Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) by Michelle Willingham Read Free Book Online Page A

being gone for so long.
    Her husband, Henry, reached over and took her hand. The ceremony had begun, and Beatrice tried to put aside her sadness. There was much to be thankful for. Not only had Amelia been rescued by the Earl of Castledon, but it seemed that the pair of them were well matched. Her youngest daughter was talkative and often gushed her feelings. At first, Beatrice had worried about the earl being too quiet and stern. Instead, he appeared charmed by Amelia, and he spoke his wedding vows with sincerity. His bride looked up at him with shining eyes, and in them, Beatrice saw the promise of love.
    She was happy for them—truly she was. And yet, the tears in her eyes were not only a mother’s tears of joy. They were also tears of grief that another daughter was lost, unable to share in this moment.
    Henry squeezed her fingers in a silent reminder of their own wedding day. He was trying to reassure her, to offer his support. Even so, she was numb inside. Despite a week of searching, there was no trace of Margaret or the Highlander, Cain Sinclair.
    Once, she had trusted Sinclair, believing that he, of all people, could keep Margaret safe. He would move Heaven and earth on her behalf. But he, too, had disappeared. He could be dead, for all they knew.
    Beatrice’s imagination conjured up all sorts of horrid visions, of her daughter being left alone, lost with no one to help her. She frowned at the thought, then dimly became aware that the wedding was over. The guests were clapping, and she forced herself to do the same.
    “You look despairing,” Henry whispered in her ear, as they stood from their chairs. “Try to smile for Amelia’s sake. I believe this will be a good marriage.”
    She forced a false smile onto her face, offering a congratulatory embrace to her youngest daughter and her new husband. They went into the dining room, where a wedding feast had been prepared for all of the guests. Her other daughters, Victoria and Juliette, were getting food for their children, and Beatrice saw her chance to slip away for a good cry.
    She hurried up the stairs, hoping no one would see her. As soon as she closed her bedroom door, she gave in to the tears. But her solitude was short-lived, for Henry had followed her upstairs.
    “It’s expected for a mother to cry at a wedding,” he said slowly. “But this is about Margaret, isn’t it?”
    She tried to dry her eyes with a handkerchief and waved him away. “Go back and celebrate with our girls. I just need a few moments to myself.”
    Henry ignored her, coming to sit upon the bed beside her. “It’s going to be all right, Beatrice. We will find Margaret, no matter how long we have to search.”
    She didn’t look at him, so afraid that he would try to console her. Sure enough, he reached out to touch her face. “Dry your tears and come back with me.” He leaned in, and she turned her face at the last moment so his kiss caught her cheek instead of her lips.
    “Later,” she said.
    He stared at her and warned, “Don’t shut me out, Beatrice. I know how you’re feeling.”
    She knew she was being hurtful to him when he was trying to comfort her. But for so many years her husband had been away at war. The distance and time had forced her to be more independent, to rely on no one but herself. And ever since he’d returned, it was like being married to a stranger. For over twenty years, Henry had known the old Beatrice, who couldn’t manage an estate or do much more than ladylike pursuits. He knew nothing of the woman she was now, one who had fought to save her girls from poverty. One who now realized that she was no longer a silent statue in her marriage.
    She had a voice of her own, opinions of her own, and she needed Henry to recognize that.
    “You have a duty to our wedding guests,” he reminded her, “as their hostess. If you busy yourself with the necessary tasks, you won’t think of Margaret anymore.”
    She gaped at him. “Do you honestly believe