Unveiling Love by Vanessa Riley Page B

could fit within her palms. In the blackness, she couldn't discern the objects, but he wouldn't hurt her like the others, not without a fight.
    "Stop it, Amora."
    The swish of a match strike sounded and set a wall sconce ablaze.
    She squinted as a cold hard knot filled her middle.  
    Barrington scraped at the gravy clinging to his jacket, chestnut brown on his stark onyx tailcoat. "What has gotten into you?"
    Light-headed, Amora rose from her corner and scanned the littered dining room. A spent candleholder and smashed fruit covered the mahogany hardwoods. Splattered walls framed Barrington's 6' 2" limbs. The pale silver paper treatment now bore drippy dark splotches. A piece of potato slipped down to the floor like an oozing snail.
    Barrington shook his head and pivoted away from the long table to yank the bell pull.
    Mayfair. She was at Mayfair, their London townhome. A puff of relief fled her mouth as she tugged on the itchy neck frill of her gown.
    "Answer me." The measured tone contrasted with his tight grip on his collar. He stripped off the tailcoat but even his cravat held stains. A portion of his short cut charcoal colored hair held a dollop of potatoes. He brushed it out with his wrist. "Amora?"
    "Sorry." She rounded the dining table and rushed toward him. With a napkin from their spoiled dinner, she sponged his shoulder. "I thought you were ..."
    "A burglar?" He grimaced. "I come home late and this is what I get."
    Balling the cloth, she reached up and wiped the tip of his nose. Splatter even dotted his spectacles. Yet the plains of his face were smooth, seemingly devoid of emotion. Where was the man who held her yesterday as if he were desperate for her love?  
    The monster took that too.  
    What was next, her sanity?  
    Her eyes stung. "The candle must've gone out while I waited for you."
    He wrenched the napkin away. Noisy air fled his nostrils.
    His lips pressed together as he thumbed a smear of brown from his cheek. "I understand. All is well."
    How could it be? She looked down at the cluttered floor. The sketch she made from spent coal ash, the first drawing in years laid in a pile of broken plates. Destroyed, ruined like their dinner, she couldn't give it to Barrington now.
    He must be so tired of her excuses, her nightmares. She sighed. She was tired too.
    Barrington lifted her chin. "Was it another dream about the two months you were abducted?"
    How did he know how long? She hadn't told him.  
    He pulled her closer. "You can tell me. I won't judge you."
    Chrysanthemum scent hovered in his cravat and along his waistcoat. The tart, Cynthia Miller had been in his arms, whispering her sordid gossip.  
    Bunching up her collar, she backed away. He went from loving Amora straight to Cynthia. Did they compare notes and laugh at her?  
    How foolish she was to believe things would change by telling him the truth. Everything had become worse. His wife, the liar, was enough to send him to willing arms.
    He scooped wasted vegetables and beefsteaks onto a shard of the broken Wedgewood. His knuckles tightened about the fragment as if he hid anger. "Well if not tonight, then, when you are ready."
    With a shrug, she stepped behind Barrington away from the strong arms that should enwrap her and chase away her fear. No, she couldn't admit to being scared and give additional fodder to his mistress confidante. She stooped and picked up broken plates.
    Mrs. Gretling marched inside wearing her tartan robe, her graying auburn hair filled with curl papers. "What happened here?"
    The housekeeper neared on all fours and took the sharp pieces of china from Amora. Her soft cherry eyes misted. "Don't hurt yourself, Mrs. Norton. I'll have this all cleaned up. Nothing like a good sleep to set things right."
    The portly woman was so protective. But nothing would set things right, ever.  
    Barrington neared and lifted Amora to her feet. "Rest. I'll assist the housekeeper."
    What could she say after pummeling him with beefsteak, and