In the Spinster's Bed by Sally Mackenzie Read Free Book Online Page B

He’d been mad with lust. His bollocks had been on fire.
    “I brought it on myself. As you pointed out, I am married. My behavior dishonored you and it dishonored me.”
    “And I should have stopped you at once.” She finally looked at him, though her eyes didn’t rise above his chin. “The truth is, as I’m sure you’ve realized, I am not indifferent to you, William. But I will not be your whore or, if you prefer the more polite term, your mistress. I will not come between you and your wife.”
    That was impossible. If she ever read the gossip columns, she’d know there was nothing between him and Hortense but animosity.
    No, that wasn’t true. There were vows, weren’t there? He’d given his word before God and man, and while most of the ton would laugh to think anyone would honor such promises, Belle was not one of them.
    Was he?
    In many ways, he felt as if he owed Hortense nothing more than his disdain. She had taken his happiness, his pride, and his hope for a family. But his honor?
    Only he could strip himself of that.
    “I should be going.” Belle gestured at the letter. “And you should read that. Mr. Wilkinson was quite intent on delivering it to you promptly.”
    “Very well. Wait a moment and I’ll escort you.” He broke the letter’s seal. Likely Morton was writing to tell him again that his father was upset about Hortense’s behavior.
    “That’s not necessary. You’ll want privacy to—oh, William, what is it?”
    He saw Belle’s hand on his arm, but he hardly felt it.
    God.
    He should have expected this, given the life Hortense was living, but it was still a shock.
    “It’s my wife. She’s been in an accident. She’s not expected to survive.” He crumpled the letter in his hand. “I must leave for London immediately.”
     
     
    “I’m so sorry. Can I do anything to help?”
    William’s face had gone white. The poor man. Much as she’d spent the last seven months wishing his wife would magically disappear, she didn’t really want anything to happen to her.
    Well, perhaps she did, but she knew that was not well done of her.
    William stuffed the crumpled letter in his pocket. “No. Yes. I suppose so. Could you tell my students their lessons are canceled for the foreseeable future?” He snorted. “That will be a cause for rejoicing. I’m sorry to say there are no budding Bachs in Loves Bridge.”
    “I’m not surprised. I believe Mr. Luntley was on the verge of despair more than once. Of course I’ll tell them. Have you a list?”
    “I can write the names down for you.” His voice was brisk. Obviously his thoughts had already moved on to his journey. “My next lesson isn’t until tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Come along to the Spinster House, then. I’ve got pen and paper there.”
    She had to hurry to keep up with his long, rapid strides, but she didn’t ask him to slow his pace. The Spinster House was just down the hill and across the road. She could run that short distance if she had to.
    It would be the first time he’d been inside it since that terrible night.
    She’d spent the months since avoiding him. At first she’d thought it would be impossible—Loves Bridge was a small village—but fortunately he’d been just as determined to avoid her.
    Does he love his wife? He must have loved her once. He’d married her.
    Poppy met them at the door. She rubbed against William’s leg as if to comfort him while he jotted down the names of his students. Then he bent and patted her absently as he handed Belle the list.
    “Thank you for taking care of this, Belle. I’m sorry to burden you with it.”
    “It’s nothing. I’m happy to do it.”
    She wasn’t certain he heard her. He was frowning, and his eyes had a distant look. He nodded, and then he was out the door and down the walk.
    “Safe journey! I hope you find your wife much improved.” He raised his hand in acknowledgment but didn’t pause. In a moment he was out of sight.
    She sighed, closed the door, and