Page 59 of Harpy of the Ton
“Do you remember my name?” the Beast asked.
She stared at him, then shook her head.
“Lawrence,” he said. “It’s Lawrence. Notthe Beast.”
Heavens!Could he read her mind?
“Bella, love, it’s time to get up,” he said. “You’ll not get your chores done if you spend the day idling on the sofa.”
Chores.That hateful word again!
He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “You needn’t look so worried,” he said. “I’ve written you a list.”
She rose, and his gaze settled on her dress. Her cheeks warmed at the flare of desire in his eyes.
She snatched the paper and read it. “Clean the kitchen, wash the windows, stoke the fire…”
Was he jesting?
“Oh—I’ve forgotten to include the mending,” he said. “You tore your petticoat when you had your…accident, and we can’t afford a new one.”
“Don’t I have another?”
For a moment, she saw discomfort in his eyes. “We lost your clothes when we came here,” he said. “But don’t worry—Ned’s niece has said she’ll give you some of her old gowns. Isn’t that kind of her? And she’s going to ask around for donations. Mrs. Gleeson’s always collecting.”
“Who’s Mrs. Gleeson?”
“The vicar’s wife. She’ll see you right.”
“Am I to be subjected to the charity of others?” she asked. “Do you mean to humiliate me?”
“Bella, love,” he sighed, “folk hereabouts are being very kind. We’re outsiders, and they owe us no favors. Let’s not make enemies before we’ve made any friends. You never complained about taking charity when we had nothing.”
“We have nothing now!” She gestured about the parlor. “Just look at this…hovel!”
“It just needs a clean and a tidy-up,” he said. “You’ll know what to do.”
“But I’ve never done any—”
“Yes, you have, love, and you’ve never complained about it before.” He gestured to the list. “I’ve done what I can to help.”
“By writing instructions for me to do all the work!” she cried, curling her fingers around the list. “Why shouldIdo it all?”
“Because you’re my wife,” he said. “But I tell you what—I’ll take the children to school before I start work. How’s that?”
She glanced at the piece of paper. “Take the children to school? That’s not even on the list.”
“I didn’t think I’d have to remind you aboutthat.”
“Then you’ll come back and help with this?”
“You can’t expect me to dowomen’swork. How will I put food on our table if I’m to be fancying about the house making a fool of meself? Talk sense, woman.”
“Talk sense, woman!” Jonathan echoed, and he burst into laughter.
Tears stung Bella’s eyes, but she bit her lip to stem them. The last thing she wanted was to further her humiliation by crying in front of them—despite the provocation.
Her husband—Lawrence—met her gaze, and for a moment, she saw tenderness in his eyes. Then he blinked and the amusement returned.
