She glanced towards one curtained window where feeble daylight had yet to struggle through. It was difficult to know what time it was, but the shadows beneath her eyes suggested she slept poorly anyway and for the first time a spark of pity surfaced. Honora must have had a difficult time since her husband left and doubtless before that, too—but that was none of his concern. Whatever befell Frank’s discomfiting, unfriendly widow was none of his business, no matter how beguiling her countenance.
‘There’s a spare bedchamber upstairs, first room on the left. As you’re here you may as well make use of it. You’ll be more comfortable in there than in my parlour.’
He offered a short bow of thanks and she accepted it with a wordless dip of her chin before turning away, retrieving the pistol from the floor as she went. She moved with such purpose and dignity the idea of feeling sorry for her seemed suddenly misplaced, until she paused at the door and looked back, the tired resignation in her face sending a jolt through Isaac he didn’t understand.
‘Goodnight, Lord Lovell. I hope you sleep well—and don’t forget to extinguish those candles. I need them to last until spring.’
Copyright © 2020 by Joanna Johnson
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ISBN-13: 9781488065972
Wedded for His Secret Child
Copyright © 2020 by Helen Dickson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Wedded for His Secret Child Page 24