Read Online The Lie and the Lady by Kate Noble - Free Book Online Page B

you.”
    â€œI prefer to think of it as practical,” she replied. “All the work . . . for all those years . . .”
    Yes, all the work, for all the years that they had both done, to keep their livelihood, well, alive . . . they could have sold the burned-out husk of a windmill ages ago. They would have gotten a fraction of its worth, but it would have been enough to keep his mother comfortable for the rest of her days. And he could have earned his living elsewhere.
    But he hadn’t wanted to.
    He’d wanted to work the mill. Own the mill. As his father had before him.
    And it was about to happen for him. He was about to finally have the mill up and running again.
    And now, the Countess of Churzy was standing in his churchyard, threatening to . . .
    To what, precisely?
    What is she doing here?
    Then a thought—thrilling and desperate—bloomed in his mind.
    Was she here for him?
    â€œWe should pay our respects to Sir Barty,” his mother was saying. “Back from his tour of the Continent—he thought he would be gone much longer. But I knew it was foolishness—I told Barty he was going to end up lost in the first city he arrived in and spend three weeks turned around. Then he’d come home because the ship he sailed on was the only thing he knew how to find. I bet he gave Mrs. Dillon and Jameson a heart attack each.”
    Turner nodded absentmindedly. He was trying to keep his eyes on Leticia, trying to see if his Letty would give him some clue as to the reason that she was here . . . other than the pale face and still expression.
    If she was here for him . . . that would change everything.
    â€œOf course I didn’t expect him to come home toting some lady bride, but Barty has always managed to surprise me, even when we were young.”
    â€œWhat?” Turner asked, his mother’s voice finally breaking into his thoughts.
    â€œHis fiancée. A countess of some kind. It was all over town yesterday.” His mother eyed him. “And you’ve been staring at her for the past few minutes.”
    Turner felt something odd hit his chest.
    If he didn’t know better, he would have likened it to a cannonball.
    â€œShall we go in? It seems the vicar is finally going to start the service.” His mother pulled him gently toward the church doors. “We’ll greet Sir Barty and Miss Babcock after—and meet Sir Barty’s bride.”

    â€œI PUBLISH THE banns of marriage between Sir Bartholomew Babcock of Helmsley and Lady Churzy, the Countess of Churzy,” the vicar droned. “This is the first time of asking. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it.”
    Turner could have ripped the bushy red sideburns off the vicar’s head. The way he said it, as if there was nothing to it at all! I publish the banns of marriage . . .
    As if there was no thought of objection from anyone! How could there possibly be? Sir Barty was a landed gentleman, the most landed in the area in point of fact. Who he took as his bride would not warrant a peep in the church. Not even from the ladies in town who were staring daggers into the back of Leticia’s head. (Why were they staring daggers? Oh hell, had she already managed to offend them somehow? The ladies of Helmsley were a notoriously closed circle, and anything outside of the town was treated as suspect. He remembered when Harold Emory left to join the navy. It was feared he would come back with flippers. Hell, Turner himself was still treated with distance since he had become so “citified” in London, and his mother since the mill stopped working . . . But this digressive train of thought was neither productive nor on point, so Turner shook it off and returned his mind to the cause of his seething rage.)
    It had been six months