A Perfect Secret by Donna Hatch Page A

miss?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “What’s that?” Ann gestured to her hand.
    Genevieve glanced down at the forgotten lily. “This is for you. To thank you for your excellent care.” Although a small, neglected place in her heart cried out at giving up the flower Christian had given her, she didn’t dare keep anything as a reminder of what he once meant to her. And she had nothing else to offer Ann for her kindness.
    Ann’s face lit up. “Oi, how lovely. Thankee kindly, miss.” She drew a deep breath and then tucked it behind her ear. “Shall we dress ye fer dinner?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    Dinner. With the earl. Genevieve quailed at the thought of facing the earl again. He’d brought a new threat, a new danger. He was arrogant and powerful, too much like her husband. The idea of remaining in this house with such a man left her alternating between crippling fear and a savage determination to protect herself.
    She’d endure dinner. Then, as soon as the house fell quiet, she’d flee before the earl turned her over to Wickburgh.
    Ann lit the lamps and helped her wash and dress. This time, Genevieve didn’t stop Ann as she coiled her hair into an elegant upsweep, leaving soft tendrils to brush against the sides of her face. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone. And she’d be gone before the night was over.
    She squelched the image of Christian’s face arising in her mind. It could never be. She hadn’t quite received the forgiveness she’d hoped to find from him, but at least he seemed to have softened toward her. Perhaps she’d mended some of the hurt between them.
    As the maid arranged the folds of the creamy gown, Genevieve produced a smile despite her heavy heart and gestured to the gown. “It’s a perfect fit, just as if it came from the modiste. Thank you, Ann, it was most expertly altered.”
    Ann bobbed a curtsy. “’Twas my pleasure, milady.” She stepped back. “Oi, miss, yer beautiful, ain’t ye?” She cleared her throat. “Er, that is, aren’t you? My lady tells me I must speak proper if I am to become a lady’s maid.”
    Genevieve touched the girl’s hand. “You’re doing a fine job.”
    As she left the room, she raised her head, vowing never again to be a victim. She would prove to the world, and herself, that she was strong. Until then, she’d pretend to be strong.
    Genevieve headed for the drawing room where the family gathered before dinner. Voices from the front parlor drew her attention. One voice was frighteningly familiar. Frissons of fear flitted down her back.
    “My wife is insane and she needs help. She may still be out there, confused and alone.”
    Her heart leaped into her throat and strangled her. Blind with panic, she froze. “No. Oh, no. No, no, no.”
    “My lady?” A footman hovered in the corridor, his livery impeccable, but he wore a mildly distressed expression despite his training.
    She couldn’t speak or move or breathe. He was here to take her back. Back to misery.
    Strong? No. She wasn’t strong. But she would not become a victim ever again.
     

CHAPTER 9
     
    Standing in the study, Christian fisted his hands and tried not to glare at Lord Wickburgh as he spoke of the woman Christian had once thought he loved.
    Wickburgh toyed with his walking stick. “She was out of her mind with grief over the loss of our unborn child. I fear the strain has driven her mad.”
    Wickburgh had changed little in the year since he and Christian had fought. Like most peers, he bore an air of arrogance, yet there was a hard set to his mouth and he stared at them through flat, soulless eyes that conjured images of a vampire.
    Christian suppressed a shiver. How had Genevieve been so foolish as to marry him?
    “I regret I never had the pleasure of meeting your wife,” Cole said smoothly. “And I wasn’t aware you’d returned to the area or I would have paid a call upon you.”
    “We’ve only been here a short time and her health has been