The Redemption of a Dissolute Earl by Julie Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

Drew moved
to advance, but Roberts held out a barring hand. “’Tis nothing a
lord such as you will wish to see.” The coachman glanced over his
shoulder and into the carriage before turning back to Drew. “I
believe the lady is dead. You needn’t expose yourself.”
    Drew shoved the man’s well-meaning hand
away. “Let’s check the poor soul before you declare her departed to
the maker.” Drew moved past the grumbling coachman, grasping the
lamp as he did so. He leaned into the carriage and held the lamp in
front of him. The light flickered and danced across the dark space
creating misshapen figures and a distorted shadow across the body
of the woman. She lay still in death, a shiny gun resting on her
lap. Drew carefully removed the gun and set it on the coach
floor.
    As he stood and really took a good look at
her, his heart lurched in pity as the light from the lantern shone
on her fine silk gown, her creamy, slender hands, her luxurious red
hair, and the swell of her high breasts. She was young by all
appearances.
    How wrong and sad to die alone and in fear.
Drew swallowed and moved the lamp to view the woman’s face.
Disbelief stole his breath until horror exploded into a
blood-curdling cry. He dropped the lamp, lunged into the carriage,
and grabbed Charlotte, pressing her cold body to his chest.
“Charlotte,” he heard himself moan, her name becoming a tortured
chant as grief threatened to swallow him.

 

    “Char,” Drew cried out again, burying his
head against her neck.
    “Yes?” came a muffled reply. Drew jerked
backwards and stared through the shadowy darkness into Char’s
face.
    She wrapped her arms around her midsection.
“I must have fallen asleep.”
    Asleep? He couldn’t form a coherent
thought past that one word. Shaking, he fell into the seat beside
Charlotte and groped until he found her hand. Though she flicked
his fingers away, he clasped her hand firmly in his. “You’re
alive.”
    “It appears so,” she said.
    “I thought you were dead.” He could not keep
his voice from shaking.
    Edgeworth leaned into the coach, lamp in
hand. “Clearly, she’s not,” he drawled. “You never have been very
observant, Hardwick, old boy.”
    Drew snatched the lamp out of his cousin’s
grasp and waved him away. “Go sit in the carriage, Edgeworth . We’ll be there directly.” Edgeworth opened his
mouth as if to retort, glanced from Charlotte to Drew, and nodded,
backing out of the carriage.
    Needing reassurance that Char was indeed all
right, Drew slowly removed her glove and rubbed his fingers gently
over the top of her hand. Her skin was cold, but now that his head
was clearing and logical thought was returning, he could detect a
faint warmness that signaled life. Her life. He hadn’t lost
the only person he had ever loved to death―only marriage to another
man.
    Drew’s fingers curled tightly around her
small, delicate bones. Bones that should be protected at all cost
at all times by her husband. Rage exploded inside of Drew. “Where
the bloody hell is Salisbury?”
    Char frowned and tried to tug her hand away,
but Drew held tight. “How should I know?” she said, tugging again. “Drew.” There was an unmistakable warning in her sharp tone,
but he didn’t damn well care. This could be the last time he ever
got to feel her softness, caress her, be so near to her, and he was
not going to give up the moment until he was in danger of losing
his bollocks from frostbite.
    “Char.” He brought her hand to his lips and
pressed a soft kiss on her flesh.
    A small gasp escaped her. “You mustn’t do
that,” she whispered.
    He knew he shouldn’t touch her, but knowing
she was right fueled his anger. “Because of your husband?” he
snarled.
    “No.” She snatched her hand away, and he
forced himself not to reach out and grab her hand once again.
Instead, he handed her glove to her. He wouldn’t dishonor her
again, though the need to touch her was a physical ache twitching
in every