A Perfect Secret by Donna Hatch Read Free Book Online Page A

summarily dismissed. The hopelessness that had seized her and held her captive since she lost her baby—the same hopelessness that had spurred her to attempt to end her life—faded as she gazed upon Christian. Time had not completely erased her love for him.
    From the way Christian glared at her, whatever affection he once felt for her had died.
    She moistened her lips, searching for something to say to him. She focused on the black armband he wore. The newspaper had reported the passing of the Earl of Tarrington and of the succession of the title by Christian’s brother, Cole, several weeks earlier. “I’m sorry about your father.”
    He nodded. A new, decidedly haunted expression crept over his expression. As if catching himself in a moment of vulnerability, he straightened, pinned her with a hostile glare. “My sister-in-law had some clothes brought in for you.” He made a loose gesture toward another part of the room. “Now get up and go back to your husband.”
    She gaped at the hardness of his tone. Where was the artistic dreamer she’d known and loved?
    He continued barking orders at her. “I’ll order a carriage and have them take you back to Wickburgh’s manor.”
    Send her back! Alarm raced through her body and she shot to an upright position, ignoring the pain of her mysterious bruises, and held out her hands in supplication. “Please don’t send me back.” Her voice sounded helpless, pleading, pathetic.
    He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “Or I could simply return you to the river. Unless you’ve changed your mind about killing yourself?” Eyes so blue and pale that they appeared to glow fixed upon her, accusation shining clearly through.  “I admit, I never really knew you—obviously—but I never would have thought you capable of suicide. That’s despicable even for you.”
    She deserved that. She really did. But his open hostility raised her hackles. He had no idea what she’d suffered. How dare he be so self-righteous and judgmental! Clearly she’d been right; if he’d learned of her father’s mutiny, he would have been horrified and rejected her. He probably would have marched down to the admiralty and personally reported her father.
    Fisting her hands in the counterpane covering her, she threw open the gate controlling her fury and flung at him the word his brothers taunted at him throughout his childhood. “Yes, well, it must be difficult being so perfect all the time.”
    He stiffened at her use of the word ‘perfect.’ Good. She had his attention.
    She drove in the barb deeper. “Clearly your only flaw is having to live among us flawed mortals who make mistakes.”
    With narrowed eyes, he leaned forward. “ ‘Mistakes’ is hardly the word I would use for what you did.”
    “You know nothing!” A sob tore out of her. She deserved his hatred, his judgment; she’d told the lies to earn it. Yet the full sharpness of his bitter anger stabbed her like a twisting blade. He had no idea what she had suffered, nor why she’d done it.
    He leaped to his feet like a restless tiger, turned on his heel, and strode to the door. “Go home.”
    He wrenched open the door and nearly trampled a maid carrying a tray. With a yelp, the maid staggered back, nearly upsetting the dishes. He caught her tray with one hand while steadying the girl with the other.
    The maid gulped in a breath, eyeing Christian’s hard set mouth and flushed face. “F-forgive me, sir. I-I brought yer breakfast, Miss,” she stammered, glancing at Genevieve desperately.
    Christian dragged his fingers through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. Stepping back, he blew out his breath. “Sorry, Ann.”
    He gestured for the maid to enter. With another wary look at Christian, the poor maid sidestepped him, giving him a wide berth, and entered the room.
    Genevieve sucked in a breath, and blinked back hot tears welling up in her eyes. “Thank you,” she managed, glancing at the maid.
    She braced her hands on