Winter's Edge by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page B

and left early, Willy apparently didn’t make an appearance until Past noon if he could help it, and Molly Was doomed to her own frustrating company.
    She went to the closet, loolting through her wardrobe. Within minutes her disgust was even stronger.
    Those expensive clothes were absolutely lovely, but they were as ill-suited for her as gold lame on a child.
    She went out on the landing and called to Mrs. Morse.
    “Have we got an old trunk anywhere?”
    “What in the world are you doing, Mrs, ~/inters?” She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a dust rag in one capable hand.
     
    “Cleaning house, just like you,” she replied smartly.
    “Have we got a trunk anywhere?”
    “Should be one in the back of your closet,” Mrs. Morse answered, curiosity alight in her face.
    “Do you need any help?”
    “I can handle it,” she said, heading back in to discover an old-fashioned steamer trunk, large enough to hold even Molly Winters’s extensive wardrobe. Working at a leisurely pace, she loaded it with almost every conceivable piece of elegant clothing. Patrick must have been using understatement when he said she loved to spend money. It was a good thing she apparently had plenty of it. The stuff in the closets and drawers must have cost a fortune. Sudden guilt swamped her. Surely there was some deserving charity in town that would love something a bit better than rags.
    She kept very little: a number of subdued cotton sweaters, a blessed second pair of worn jeans. Out went the gold-threaded caftan, the black satin sheath with the neckline down to there, the turquoise silk lounging pajamas. Whether she liked it or not, she was really a T-shirt and jeans type, and dressing up in sophisticated clothes would only make her look more ridiculous. And make the situation that much worse.
    What situation? she asked herself suddenly. There was no answer. Only the instinctive knowledge that she wanted to be beautiful. Was she fool enough to care what her bad-tempered husband thought? If she harbored any warm emotions in that direction she would be wise to forget them quickly. Her life was a tangled mess, and she had absolutely no idea how things had gotten that way. She sighed as she shut the trunk on the expensive, unsuitable clothes.
    There wasn’t much left. Several drawers full of lace underwear that she’d lost her heart to, those itchy nightgowns, and the sweaters and shirts. And one very beautiful eyelet and cotton dress of pure white. The woman Molly had begun to think of as her predecessor didn’t seem to go in for simple things like this, and she wondered if it had actually belonged to someone else. For the time being she could wear it if the occasion demanded a dress, which seemed unlikely. From what Patrick had said, it seemed as if she were to be kept in total seclusion. Until her memory returned, Molly thought she might prefer it that way.
    She glanced down at her clothes. Sooner or later she would find out how to get hold of her money. She’d need to buy at least a few new things—she couldn’t spend all her time in two pairs of faded jeans and a few sweaters. Then again, maybe she could. After all, who was she trying to impress? If it was Patrick Winters, it was obviously a lost cause.
    “I’rE GOT A TRUNK full of clothes up there.” Molly walked into the kitchen.
    “Have you any idea where I could send it?”
    Mrs. Morse looked up from her luncheon fixings in surprise.
    “Send it?” she repeated blankly.
    “Yes.” Molly reached out and snatched a piece of sliced carrot.
    “I
    don’t want them anymore. They’re not at all my style. “
     
    “I was wondering if you’d ever learn that.” She offered her another carrot.
    “I’ll have Ben take care of it for you when he comes in for lunch.”
    “Ben?”
    She looked at her oddly.
    “My husband,” she said after an uncomfortable silence.
    “You’ve only known him since you were sixteen.”
    Molly shrugged with embarrassment.
    “Will lunch be