Page 37 of A Marriage Most Convenient

Edmond woke to the rounded backside of his wife nestled against his body. Things had changed between them the night before. He’d been such a damned fool. Depriving each of them of a real marriage. That ended today.

He needed to tell Charlotte the truth about Jack, about their compromise, and about his feelings. She deserved to know. He would tell her everything today.

He ran a palm up her bare thigh, and across the curve of her hip.

She stirred, arching back into him.

Oh, to be able to touch her freely. Everything about her body felt custom-made for his hands, his mouth, his cock. She belonged to him. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and nibbling at the back of her neck.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice sleepy. She rolled towards him, exposing one pert breast.

He had no sooner sucked that nipple into his mouth, then a knock came at their bedchamber door.

“What?” he growled.

“Master Edmond, my apologies in disturbing you.” The valet’s voice came from outside the door. “But mistress Charlotte’s sister is here and it seems to be urgent.”

“Frannie?” Charlotte sat upright.

“We’ll be right down,” Edmond said. He helped Charlotte from the bed and rubbed her arms. “I’ll ring for your maid. You go and get dressed in your room and we’ll meet downstairs. All will be well.”

Fifteen minutes later, they both stepped downstairs to find Charlotte’s younger sister pacing the foyer of their townhome.

“My apologies for waking you so early,” Frannie said. Her eyes darted in Edmond’s direction, then back at her sister.

“Is it Papa?” Charlotte asked.

Frannie nodded, her eyes wide and glassy.

Charlotte closed her eyes, and Edmond’s heart lurched in his chest. The conversation he intended to have with his wife would have to wait. Her family needed her, which meant she’d be needing him.

“I’ll ready a carriage,” he said.

“There is no need, Edmond,” Charlotte said. “There is nothing anyone can do.”

He reached out and cupped her elbow. “I’ll escort you both. And I will be there should you need me.”

“Perhaps when we get there, Frannie, you could give Edmond a tour of the gardens,” Charlotte said.

Something was clearly amiss, but Edmond wasn’t certain what it was. He knew one thing though—his wife was keeping a secret. And she was visibly nervous about him discovering it. All she’d ever said was that her father was ill, but that was the extent of the details she’d given. It was much like what he would tell someone about his own mother’s illness.

One thing Charlotte needed to understand though, was that she was his now. His to care for and his to protect. He’d be damned if he’d be sent out to the gardens during whatever played out inside the Reed townhome.

After the carriage stopped, he assisted Charlotte and her sister to their feet, then placed his hand against the small of Charlotte’s back as they made their way up the front steps. The paint on the black door was in need of a new coat, and mortar between the bricks had crumbled in places.

He knew the Reeds were struggling for money. He also knew that Charlotte and Frannie did much to keep that truth from becoming fodder for the gossip mill. But that wasn’t what tonight was about. He felt certain.

She eyed him when they got to the door, and he reached around her waist and squeezed her side. “Whatever you think I can’t handle, you’re wrong. You’re my wife now and that means your family is mine. I’ll protect them as well as I protect you.” He kept his eyes on hers until he saw her release a shuddering breath. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, effectively pulling away from him.

Perhaps she’d resigned herself that he was going to be here, but she wasn’t sharing anything of her own accord.

They entered the home and heard loud voices from a room down the corridor. Charlotte didn’t bother looking at him again. Instead she stormed forward, directly into whatever upheaval awaited them. He followed Charlotte and her sister.

“Rutherford, please, you’re going to hurt yourself. Or me,” a woman’s voice pleaded.

“Father, you really must sit down,” a young man’s voice said. “You are going to take a tumble and bump your head.”

They reached the doorway, and Edmond could see that the disturbance was in her father’s study. Her father was standing on top of his desk, waving a walking stick. He wore a dressing gown and sleep cap, and looked as if he weighed no more than a teen boy. Thin, wiry white hair stuck out from his cap and it appeared he hadn’t been successfully shaved in quite some time, as he had patches of white stubble along his jaw and chin.

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