Read Online Saving Persephone (The Haberdashers Book 4) by Sue London - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sue London
Ads: Link
the crickets having gone silent for the night. He heard a sniff. Imogen. Not in the room, but somewhere close. He rose to investigate.
She was standing on the tiny balcony off the sitting room.
He called to her quietly from the door, not wanting to startle her. “Imogen?”
She looked over her shoulder, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, her gaze returning to the darkened vista. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
He drew closer and caressed his hand over her silk-covered shoulders. “All right. Then I won’t worry about it.”
After another few moments she turned to lean into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
They stood quietly for some time until Robert finally asked, “What is it that I’m not worrying about?”
She pulled away and shook her head.
Robert had already considered five tactics for how to make her tell him before he asked himself why he wanted to know. Why he felt he needed to know. The simple truth was that Imogen was in pain and he wanted to make it stop. The realization made him back up a step. There were few people he cared about. If pressed on the point, there were only two, really, and they were both related to him by blood. There was no reason for him to be invested in this woman. She was a lovely distraction, nothing more.
However, his silence seemed the tactic to loosen her tongue. “My grandmother died.”
That confused him. “When?”
She looked up at the moon and took a deep breath. “Tonight.”
What she said was, if not completely impossible, at least entirely improbable. “How do you know?”
She smiled and shook her head again. “You wouldn’t understand. She and I are alike. Were alike. We had a connection.”
Beyond the essentially disturbing idea she was suggesting, Robert was concerned about why he cared at all. Why he still wanted to pull her to him and soothe her grief. He withdrew into the house. “Don’t stay out long, you’ll catch cold.”
* * *
Imogen awoke with the sun streaming into the bedroom. Alone. It felt strange not to have Robert nearby. She smiled to herself, thinking that they only had this one day left, as they would need to travel tomorrow. Perhaps, once she found him, she could convince her lover to spend this final day in bed as well. She dressed, humming to herself and thinking that she could use Robert’s help with her stays and ribbons. Of course, if she called him up now, he would only want to remove them all. As she was starving, she opted to do the best she could with her dress and meet him downstairs for breakfast.
Once downstairs she still didn’t see Robert. The housekeeper was in the kitchen.
“Where is Mr. Bittlesworth?”
“Oh, good morning, love. Left early this morning, he did. Said to tell you the carriage was here for you to take whenever you like, today or tomorrow. He just took his horse, he did, so the men will pack up his things for him.”
Imogen opened her mouth but found that she couldn’t make a sound. Closing it again, she nodded and turned back to the dining room, sitting heavily on one of the chairs. This. This was why she so seldom shared the truth of her gifts with anyone. They either disbelieved her and derided her for foolishness, or avoided her like the plague. It helped little that there were so many charlatans in the world, people with fake claims of talents. Or that she was often lumped with the mystics, with their abstract ideals and off-putting beliefs.
It was just as well, she supposed. She had been concerned about him forming an attachment, and obviously that was no longer a concern. Having lost her appetite, she went upstairs to pack.
Chapter Fourteen
Once back in London, Robert focused on assessing how things had changed since he left. He spent a solid fourteen hours interviewing agents, reading reports, and making his own careful, and coded, notes about his conclusions. It
She was standing on the tiny balcony off the sitting room.
He called to her quietly from the door, not wanting to startle her. “Imogen?”
She looked over her shoulder, surreptitiously wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, her gaze returning to the darkened vista. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
He drew closer and caressed his hand over her silk-covered shoulders. “All right. Then I won’t worry about it.”
After another few moments she turned to lean into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
They stood quietly for some time until Robert finally asked, “What is it that I’m not worrying about?”
She pulled away and shook her head.
Robert had already considered five tactics for how to make her tell him before he asked himself why he wanted to know. Why he felt he needed to know. The simple truth was that Imogen was in pain and he wanted to make it stop. The realization made him back up a step. There were few people he cared about. If pressed on the point, there were only two, really, and they were both related to him by blood. There was no reason for him to be invested in this woman. She was a lovely distraction, nothing more.
However, his silence seemed the tactic to loosen her tongue. “My grandmother died.”
That confused him. “When?”
She looked up at the moon and took a deep breath. “Tonight.”
What she said was, if not completely impossible, at least entirely improbable. “How do you know?”
She smiled and shook her head again. “You wouldn’t understand. She and I are alike. Were alike. We had a connection.”
Beyond the essentially disturbing idea she was suggesting, Robert was concerned about why he cared at all. Why he still wanted to pull her to him and soothe her grief. He withdrew into the house. “Don’t stay out long, you’ll catch cold.”
* * *
Imogen awoke with the sun streaming into the bedroom. Alone. It felt strange not to have Robert nearby. She smiled to herself, thinking that they only had this one day left, as they would need to travel tomorrow. Perhaps, once she found him, she could convince her lover to spend this final day in bed as well. She dressed, humming to herself and thinking that she could use Robert’s help with her stays and ribbons. Of course, if she called him up now, he would only want to remove them all. As she was starving, she opted to do the best she could with her dress and meet him downstairs for breakfast.
Once downstairs she still didn’t see Robert. The housekeeper was in the kitchen.
“Where is Mr. Bittlesworth?”
“Oh, good morning, love. Left early this morning, he did. Said to tell you the carriage was here for you to take whenever you like, today or tomorrow. He just took his horse, he did, so the men will pack up his things for him.”
Imogen opened her mouth but found that she couldn’t make a sound. Closing it again, she nodded and turned back to the dining room, sitting heavily on one of the chairs. This. This was why she so seldom shared the truth of her gifts with anyone. They either disbelieved her and derided her for foolishness, or avoided her like the plague. It helped little that there were so many charlatans in the world, people with fake claims of talents. Or that she was often lumped with the mystics, with their abstract ideals and off-putting beliefs.
It was just as well, she supposed. She had been concerned about him forming an attachment, and obviously that was no longer a concern. Having lost her appetite, she went upstairs to pack.
Chapter Fourteen
Once back in London, Robert focused on assessing how things had changed since he left. He spent a solid fourteen hours interviewing agents, reading reports, and making his own careful, and coded, notes about his conclusions. It
Similar Books
