Page 56 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“Mr. Chambers?”
“I beg your pardon, but I have news that is most troubling to report.”
“Go on. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”
Reassured, he continued. “A few days ago, your wife dropped some letters in the post box. I thought I had managed the correct postage, but somehow, I blundered, and the letters were brought back. I beg your pardon, My Lord.”
“Don’t make yourself uneasy, man. Return the letters to my Lady and if she still wishes them all put in the post, you can work it out together.”
Mr. Chambers looked most relieved. “Thank you, My Lord!”
“On second thought, just give them to me and I will discuss it with her presently.”
“Very good, My Lord.” Chambers handed the three letters to Ewan and returned to his desk.
The Marquess glanced at the letters he held in his hand. He expected to find them addressed to the General or Mrs. Oliver or even his own mother. Instead, he found himself reading the addresses of the Royal Academy of Physicians, Guy’s Hospital in Southwark, and St. Bart’s Hospital at the London City Wall. Disbelief egged him on.
Impatiently, he ripped open the seal of the first letter, quickly scanning its contents. At the bottom of the page, in a crisp and even hand, the letter was signed ‘H. Oliver Clark.’
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, knowing full well what he was looking at but unable to believe his eyes.
She did not,he thought in disgust,she would not.
But he knew very well that she would and that she did.
Chapter 22
Henrietta sat at the edge of the bed and patted her side, trying to feel out what was wrong. Every breath she took made her gasp and the half-corset she wore was doing nothing to help matters.
Swollen intercostal muscles and acute tenderness would suggest a broken or bruised rib. Shortness of breath would perpetuate my conclusion.There was nothing to do about injuries like that, except wait for them to heal all on their own.
She looked up as Ewan stepped through the doorway to her side of the apartment. A smile tugged at her lips. He looked handsome, his hair swept forward over his forehead. She was about to open her mouth to tell him about the bruising, but he beat her to it.
“When were you going to tell me aboutthis?” he asked curtly, pulling a letter from behind his back. “And here I was, thinking that you and I were making some sort of progress with our honesty towards one another.”
Henrietta froze. “Is that… is that my letter, Lord Marquess?”
“That depends. Do you mean the one that you sent to the Royal Academy of Physicians, or the one to St. Bart’s, or the one to Guy’s Hospital? Need I go on?”
She stood sharply, a jolt of pain rippling up her side. “You had no right!”
“As your husband, I had every right.”
“And hereIwas, thinking that you and I were unlike other married couples—that I might have some autonomy within my marriage to you. You promised me as much, did you not?”
“That autonomy does not permit you to indulge in deception, Henrietta.” His eyes narrowed. “You have deliberately attempted to fool these individuals. H. Oliver Clark—does that ring any bells for you?”
She shrugged. “That is my name, is it not?”
“You know very well that they would presume you to be a man, if you wrote to them in such a manner.”
“And if I were to write to them as I am, as a woman, do you honestly believe that they would consider me? I have been here before, my Lord Marquess. I was veritably laughed into submission by their previous responses.” She stood her ground, wishing the pain would subside. Her brow was drenched in sweat already. “A small lie would do nobody any harm, yet it would provide me with a great deal of opportunity. Do you know how many proverbial doors have been slammed in my face, my Lord?”
Her words seemed to silence him.
“Well, let me tell you.Everydoor.”
“That does not excuse these unlawful actions, Henrietta.”
