The Ideal Wife by Mary Balogh Read Free Book Online

the crumb and sending it off to a more legitimate resting place.
    “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said kindly. “Would you be more comfortable if we left? Come, we will stroll along the street until you have regained your composure.”
    He tucked her hand through his arm as they walked, and Abigail, feeling firm muscles beneath the sleeve of his coat and smelling the same cologne he had worn the day before, was glad that they were walking side by side so that he was not looking constantly into her face.
    She doubted that she had ever felt so humiliated in her life.
    And the man was to be her husband the next day. The very next day! That meant that she was to have one more night in her bed at Mr. Gill’s, and then a wedding night—with the man who walked beside her, drawing female glances with every step he took.
    And he was marrying her because she was quiet and sensible and good-natured and because he wanted to be free of managing females.
    She was very tempted to turn to him without further ado and tell him the truth. All of it, down to the last sordid little detail. Even that one detail that no one else on earth knew except her—not even Boris. She should do so. After all, she would not be able to hide everything for the rest of a lifetime, certainly not the truth about her character.
    But she thought of the long journey into Sussex and a disapproving Vicar Grimes at the end of the journey. And she thought of Bea and Clara and their unhappiness with their Great-Aunt Edwina and the dreary prospects that awaited them when they grew up. And she thought of all the clothes being made up in Madame Savard’s shop and of all the parcels and bandboxes lying in the earl’s carriage at that very moment. And of being a countess and comfortable and secure for life.
    She held her peace.
    It was already well into the afternoon. His lordship had a pressing appointment, he explained, and must return her to Mr. Gill’s. He was to be busy for the rest of the day. He would take her up the following morning and they would go to the church together. The gown from the modiste’s should be delivered in plenty of time.
    “Is there anyone you would like to accompany you tomorrow?” he asked as he was handing her out of his carriage. “To witness your marriage?”
    “Yes,” she said. “I have a friend here, the children’s governess. Miss Seymour.”
    “Then I shall take you and Miss Seymour up tomorrow morning,” he said, smiling at her. “You will feel more comfortable to have a friend with you.”
    “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
    And she watched in fascination as he took her gloved hand in his and raised it to his lips. No man had ever kissed her hand before. She wondered if it was normal to feel the kiss all along her arm and right down her body and both legs to all ten toes. She found herself thinking of wedding nights again, and turned hastily to enter the house.
    Gracious, she thought as Edna, the Gills’ maid, opened the door for her and she saw as she stepped into the hallway both Mr. and Mrs. Gill waiting there for her, their faces wearing welcoming and identical smiles. Goodness gracious. She did not know his name. She was to marry him the next morning, and she knew him only as the Earl of Severn.
    She smiled in some amusement, and the smiles on the faces of the Gills grew broader. Mrs. Gill came toward her, both hands outstretched.

    T HE E ARL OF S EVERN really did have pressing business, business that he thought might well keep him busy for the rest of the day and part of the night too. He had to settle with Jenny and take his leave of her.
    He would spend a few hours with her before breaking the news, he thought. He might as well enjoy her favors one more time before his wedding the next day.
    She came hurrying across the room to him when the manservant he had hired for her showed him into her parlor. She wrapped bare arms about his neck and raised her face for his kiss. Her eyes were dreamy. Jenny could