Read Online Her Wicked Sin by Sarah Ballance - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Ballance
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wife.”
“And yet so fortunate she just happened upon you.” Rebecca said, her eyebrows drawn and voice mocking in nature.
Lydia tensed, but Henry answered easily. “Good fortune, yes, but so near our home it seems most likely she would have been the one to happen upon me first.”
Thomas nodded his agreement, his eyes affixed to Lydia.
Rebecca looked from her husband to Lydia and fisted her hands in her skirts, though her taut regard melted into a cloying smile. “I have heard the Abbot children are poorly.”
“I am sorry to learn the news. Have the Abbots sent for me?”
“You were mentioned,” Rebecca said sweetly. “Perhaps you might check in soon.”
“Very well then.” Lydia forced a gracious nod and found herself exceedingly grateful when Henry sensed her cue and began to turn Willard.
Thomas, whose attentions Lydia felt heavily during the exchange, tipped his hat. “Fare thee well, Neighbor.”
“Fare thee well,” Lydia murmured. She barely heard Henry’s parting words as he urged Willard toward home.
They were several paces away when Henry asked, “Doest the Goodman covet my wife?”
“Thomas is a good man. I believe he is true.”
“Perhaps his intentions are merely untested.”
“And they will verily remain as such. The penalty for such misplaced affection is death.”
Henry’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Your innocence startles me, wife. Verily, those who sin are capable of deceit. Few adulterers will throw themselves in confession before the magistrate.”
“What are you saying?”
“There are many layers to man, and the truth is most often far below the surface.”
Lydia said nothing, allowing his words to linger until such time as they arrived at her rear porch. There, she slid from the pillion and, once on her feet, took the reins.
Henry dismounted and, testing his weight with a bend of his knees, smiled. “Better already.”
“Perhaps, but you have not yet attempted to walk,” she said, waiting as he removed the saddlebag. “I’ll see to Willard.”
“And I will attempt a suitable show of thanks,” Henry said with an exceptional smile.
Heat furnished Lydia’s cheeks. Hoping she had not shown herself to Henry, she turned quickly and led Willard to his quarters. There, she removed his tack and put him away for the eve. She then made quick order of her chores, adding wood to the porch for ease of capture during the late hour. By the time she filled the water buckets, she had nearly calmed, though she knew she would find herself flustered again in short order.
Henry had that effect upon her.
Though smoke from the chimney gave way he had started a fire, she was most surprised to see he had begun a pottage.
“You do not mind?” he asked upon observing her attention to the beginning stew. “I found only root vegetables and have taken them sparingly.”
“Of course not—rather, I am most grateful. I am just surprised to find you preparing the evening meal. How is your leg?”
“A bit difficult, but it will soon be well.”
“And then…what of you?”
He drew his gaze from the pot over the fire, then followed the path of his scrutiny to cup her face with both hands. “It is my honor to stay in your company for as long as it remains your will.”
“But your family… verily your mother will fear for you as she does your lost brother. And this marriage! It is not sanctioned by your father. What of his insistence you marry well?”
“I have married far beyond his expectations,” Henry said, fingertips sliding to trace her cheeks, then her neck.
“But I am not of wealth,” she protested, shivering under his touch.
“Yet you have made me rich beyond my greatest aspirations.”
His words left her without speech. Never had she known such kindness, and his soft assurances weakened her.
“What is it?” he asked. He studied her with such thoroughness she wondered if he did not see her every thought.
“You said man has many
“And yet so fortunate she just happened upon you.” Rebecca said, her eyebrows drawn and voice mocking in nature.
Lydia tensed, but Henry answered easily. “Good fortune, yes, but so near our home it seems most likely she would have been the one to happen upon me first.”
Thomas nodded his agreement, his eyes affixed to Lydia.
Rebecca looked from her husband to Lydia and fisted her hands in her skirts, though her taut regard melted into a cloying smile. “I have heard the Abbot children are poorly.”
“I am sorry to learn the news. Have the Abbots sent for me?”
“You were mentioned,” Rebecca said sweetly. “Perhaps you might check in soon.”
“Very well then.” Lydia forced a gracious nod and found herself exceedingly grateful when Henry sensed her cue and began to turn Willard.
Thomas, whose attentions Lydia felt heavily during the exchange, tipped his hat. “Fare thee well, Neighbor.”
“Fare thee well,” Lydia murmured. She barely heard Henry’s parting words as he urged Willard toward home.
They were several paces away when Henry asked, “Doest the Goodman covet my wife?”
“Thomas is a good man. I believe he is true.”
“Perhaps his intentions are merely untested.”
“And they will verily remain as such. The penalty for such misplaced affection is death.”
Henry’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “Your innocence startles me, wife. Verily, those who sin are capable of deceit. Few adulterers will throw themselves in confession before the magistrate.”
“What are you saying?”
“There are many layers to man, and the truth is most often far below the surface.”
Lydia said nothing, allowing his words to linger until such time as they arrived at her rear porch. There, she slid from the pillion and, once on her feet, took the reins.
Henry dismounted and, testing his weight with a bend of his knees, smiled. “Better already.”
“Perhaps, but you have not yet attempted to walk,” she said, waiting as he removed the saddlebag. “I’ll see to Willard.”
“And I will attempt a suitable show of thanks,” Henry said with an exceptional smile.
Heat furnished Lydia’s cheeks. Hoping she had not shown herself to Henry, she turned quickly and led Willard to his quarters. There, she removed his tack and put him away for the eve. She then made quick order of her chores, adding wood to the porch for ease of capture during the late hour. By the time she filled the water buckets, she had nearly calmed, though she knew she would find herself flustered again in short order.
Henry had that effect upon her.
Though smoke from the chimney gave way he had started a fire, she was most surprised to see he had begun a pottage.
“You do not mind?” he asked upon observing her attention to the beginning stew. “I found only root vegetables and have taken them sparingly.”
“Of course not—rather, I am most grateful. I am just surprised to find you preparing the evening meal. How is your leg?”
“A bit difficult, but it will soon be well.”
“And then…what of you?”
He drew his gaze from the pot over the fire, then followed the path of his scrutiny to cup her face with both hands. “It is my honor to stay in your company for as long as it remains your will.”
“But your family… verily your mother will fear for you as she does your lost brother. And this marriage! It is not sanctioned by your father. What of his insistence you marry well?”
“I have married far beyond his expectations,” Henry said, fingertips sliding to trace her cheeks, then her neck.
“But I am not of wealth,” she protested, shivering under his touch.
“Yet you have made me rich beyond my greatest aspirations.”
His words left her without speech. Never had she known such kindness, and his soft assurances weakened her.
“What is it?” he asked. He studied her with such thoroughness she wondered if he did not see her every thought.
“You said man has many
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