Unveiling Love by Vanessa Riley Read Free Book Online

head?  
    Pretending nothing was wrong was her suit, not his. Offering her kindness and sad looks couldn't change anything. Her eyes stung but they were long dried of tears. Keeping the babe safe in her bosom was her only job and she failed. Why did she let horrid Cynthia work her into a frenzy? Why did Amora believe she could walk a block in the dark without her nightmares chasing her?
    She dropped her head into her hands and pushed at her sorry temples, trying to force the memories from her brain. But they were with her. Always would be.
    Maybe she should just tell Barrington of her disappearance as Cynthia put it.  
    If she'd blurted it out after all these years, what would Barrington say?  
    Could he understand the terror of being dragged from Papa's orchard? No, he'd think her foolish for painting so far from Tomàs Manor, away from her mother's watchful eye.
    And if he'd known, the shame would've forced him to abandon Amora, never marrying her. Maybe it would have been best if they never wed. It had to be better than continually disappointing him.  
    Than losing his child.
    Her heart hung low. Those dry eyes sprung a new droplet. The truth would send him to "willing arms". Marriage wouldn't prevent it. A difficult wife, one with lies, would give him ample excuse.
    She rubbed her sleeves. Her skin suddenly chilled thinking of Cynthia in Barrington's arms, bearing him a babe. No. The cold truth had to remain a secret.
    A knock echoed from outside her bedchamber.  
    Her breath caught. Barrington? She straightened and tugged the remaining papers from her tresses. "Come in."
    The door opened. It was only Mrs. Gretling.
    Relief and disappointment battled within Amora's lungs. Relief won.
    Tartan skirts flapping, her housekeeper brought a basket of linens and snowy chemises to the closet and began moving one muted frock and then another. "Mrs. Norton, it's so good to see ye up."  
    "I thought it about time to move about. Next, I'll try being useful." She bit her lip. No need to affirm her sad state.
    Mrs. Gretling traipsed closer and offered one of her I-pity-you looks with her scrunched up sherry eyes. "It's Thursday. Would you like to go with me to the hospital?"
    "What?" Her pulse pounded as visions of a high table and tight leather straps crossed her mind's eye. She lowered her shaking hands to her lap. "I don't…"
    One silvery eyebrow rose higher on her abigail's long face. "I meant the Foundling Hospital, ma'am. You usually go with me."
    Oh, the abandoned children, the poor orphans. Amora blinked a few times and waited for her pulse to return to normal, whatever normal was. "I can't see a precious babe someone gave away." She shook her head. "I'm not ready."
    "Maybe next week." She set down the basket and wiped her hands on her thick apron before fluffing Amora's spiraling locks. "Hurry, you can have breakfast with the master."
    Stunned, she clasped Mrs. Gretling's hands to stop her primping. "Mr. Norton's not at court?"  
    "No, he's been having his breakfast here most days.  
    Fishing a ribbon through Amora's tresses, she pinned up the chignon. "I think he liked the pattern you two set before. Oh, listen to me run on. Go see him."
    Mrs. Gretling took up her empty basket, then shuffled back through the doorway. "He's devoted to you, you know."
    The door closed, leaving Amora even more confused. Barrington kept at their routine, even with no baby?
    No, there had to be another reason. Maybe she should find out. After smoothing her dark gray, almost black muslin bodice, she took step after step until she crept to the other side of her door.  
    With a glance, she gaped at the stairs leading below to the first floor and then the one to the upper levels and attic.
    What would he say when he saw her out of her bedchamber? Would he measure his words and offer a dutiful kiss on the forehead, one meant for his poor sick wife? What if he were just waiting for her to be strong enough to tell her he didn't, couldn't love her