Read Online Provocative in Pearls by Madeline Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Madeline Hunter
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recent discovery of Verity did not bother him. Colleen was another matter. She had been instrumental in arranging the marriage, and possibly the most distraught when Verity disappeared. She had indeed mourned, for the girl she had come to think of as her new sister. But then, Colleen had some practice in mourning, and perhaps it just came naturally to her now.
He pulled out a clean sheet of paper and considered how to write the next letter. He had promised to inform no one of Verity’s discovery while they were in Essex, but he had concluded at dinner that he still needed to communicate with her trustee, Mr. Thornapple.
Thornapple and he did not have the best history. Last spring it had become apparent that someone had hired an investigator to look into Verity’s disappearance. Hawkeswell had assumed Bertram was behind it, only to learn it was the trustee. Since that runner had asked insinuating questions about the missing bride’s new husband, the only conclusion was that Thornapple suspected the worst.
He composed his words carefully, and presented his inquiries to Thornapple as merely more of the same, and the result of renewed curiosity about Verity’s settlement now that there was a chance a new inquest would be held.
Her reference to Mr. Travis had been startling. It had been a mistake, perhaps, to take Bertram Thompson’s word that he, Bertram, managed that business, and to agree that he should be left to do so with a free hand after Verity married. Now it appeared that not only did Bertram not truly manage the mill, on a day-to-day basis, but he did not even know the details of the invention that made the mill so profitable. Only Mr. Travis did. And Verity.
Hawkeswell completed his letter, sealed it, and set it aside. He lay on the bed. The cool night breeze flowed over him, heavy with the scent of the sea. It was sinful to waste such a pleasant night by sleeping.
Not that he expected to sleep easily. First he would have to listen to his baser instincts remind him that a lovely young woman, to whom he had a legal right, lay in another bed not far away. Then he would have to conquer the physical response to that notion, and terminate the speculations it provoked.
If he believed her to be as unmoved as she tried to pretend, the possibilities would not be so compelling. He knew women too well to be fooled, however, and it was very hard to keep his promise when Verity’s eyes and sighs reflected an arousal that she insisted on denying.
The reasons for that denial had been explained, but he suspected there was more. More to her reasons for hoping he would still agree to seek an annulment—and he was sure that was her game here. More to her reasons for running away in the first place. Maybe more reasons for not wanting this marriage to begin with.
His letter to her trustee would clarify some things about that business her father established and grew. They were details that may have been explained two years ago, but that had escaped him because he had not listened well enough.
That had been pride’s doing. He would be glad to receive her significant income from the mill, and elated to get the large amount amassed while she was underage, but he had not really wanted to know anything about the mill itself. Now, he suspected, it was time to find out what he had neglected to learn then.
A sound penetrated his thoughts. It came in the window, as a shuffling sound not far away outside. It sounded as though an animal was on the building. Curious, he rose and went to the window.
His eyes adjusted to the night. The sound came again, from that tree that grew close to Verity’s window. He peered hard, and made out a dark form stretched between the high branches closest to the building and the sill of her chamber window.
The form moved with a swinging motion, and disconnected from the building. A tiny gasp of joy whispered on the breeze.
He could hardly be surprised. He had challenged her to climb down that tree.
He pulled out a clean sheet of paper and considered how to write the next letter. He had promised to inform no one of Verity’s discovery while they were in Essex, but he had concluded at dinner that he still needed to communicate with her trustee, Mr. Thornapple.
Thornapple and he did not have the best history. Last spring it had become apparent that someone had hired an investigator to look into Verity’s disappearance. Hawkeswell had assumed Bertram was behind it, only to learn it was the trustee. Since that runner had asked insinuating questions about the missing bride’s new husband, the only conclusion was that Thornapple suspected the worst.
He composed his words carefully, and presented his inquiries to Thornapple as merely more of the same, and the result of renewed curiosity about Verity’s settlement now that there was a chance a new inquest would be held.
Her reference to Mr. Travis had been startling. It had been a mistake, perhaps, to take Bertram Thompson’s word that he, Bertram, managed that business, and to agree that he should be left to do so with a free hand after Verity married. Now it appeared that not only did Bertram not truly manage the mill, on a day-to-day basis, but he did not even know the details of the invention that made the mill so profitable. Only Mr. Travis did. And Verity.
Hawkeswell completed his letter, sealed it, and set it aside. He lay on the bed. The cool night breeze flowed over him, heavy with the scent of the sea. It was sinful to waste such a pleasant night by sleeping.
Not that he expected to sleep easily. First he would have to listen to his baser instincts remind him that a lovely young woman, to whom he had a legal right, lay in another bed not far away. Then he would have to conquer the physical response to that notion, and terminate the speculations it provoked.
If he believed her to be as unmoved as she tried to pretend, the possibilities would not be so compelling. He knew women too well to be fooled, however, and it was very hard to keep his promise when Verity’s eyes and sighs reflected an arousal that she insisted on denying.
The reasons for that denial had been explained, but he suspected there was more. More to her reasons for hoping he would still agree to seek an annulment—and he was sure that was her game here. More to her reasons for running away in the first place. Maybe more reasons for not wanting this marriage to begin with.
His letter to her trustee would clarify some things about that business her father established and grew. They were details that may have been explained two years ago, but that had escaped him because he had not listened well enough.
That had been pride’s doing. He would be glad to receive her significant income from the mill, and elated to get the large amount amassed while she was underage, but he had not really wanted to know anything about the mill itself. Now, he suspected, it was time to find out what he had neglected to learn then.
A sound penetrated his thoughts. It came in the window, as a shuffling sound not far away outside. It sounded as though an animal was on the building. Curious, he rose and went to the window.
His eyes adjusted to the night. The sound came again, from that tree that grew close to Verity’s window. He peered hard, and made out a dark form stretched between the high branches closest to the building and the sill of her chamber window.
The form moved with a swinging motion, and disconnected from the building. A tiny gasp of joy whispered on the breeze.
He could hardly be surprised. He had challenged her to climb down that tree.
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