Free Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath Page A

asked.
    Henry dropped his gaze to his nanny’s skirt pocket, the one where she kept the stick that he was to tell no one about, and shook his head.
    The man laughed. “Good lad. I think we’ll get along.”
    The man was tall, like Henry’s father had been. They were all supposed to wear black now that Henry’s father had died, but the man was wearing a dark purple waistcoat. Henry wondered if he should tell the man about that rule.
    The man pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled the seat, folding his arms over the backrest. Henry had never seen anyone sit like that. He was certain it was the wrong way to sit, but Miss Tuppin didn’t whack the man. Maybe she was afraid of him.
    â€œDo you know who I am, Henry?”
    Henry nodded, then shook his head. He sort of knew. The man upset his mother, but he’d also lifted Henry’s mother into his arms with a great deal of care. And he’d looked at her as though he liked her as much as Henry did.
    â€œMy name is Jack Dodger. You may call me Jack.”
    â€œSir, I don’t mean to interfere, but that’s not proper and he’ll develop bad habits,” Miss Tuppin said. “He should call you ‘Mr. Dodger.’ And if I might be so bold, you should call him ‘Your Grace.’”
    â€œYou’ll find, sweets, I’m not one for rules and have quite a few bad habits of my own.” He looked at Henry the entire time he spoke. “You and I have that in common. I don’t like rules either. Your father asked me to serve as your guardian. Do you know what a guardian is?”
    Henry shook his head.
    â€œIt’s the person who protects you. If anyone ever hurts you, all you have to do is tell me and I will see to it that the person never harms you again.”
    Henry shifted his gaze to Miss Tuppin. Her mouth was set in the hard line it always was when she whacked him. He looked back at Jack.
    â€œI’m sorry your father died,” Jack said.
    â€œIs your f-father dead?”
    â€œProbably. The truth is, Henry, I never knew my father. So, you see, we have something else in common. Neither of us has a father.”
    â€œWill he c-come back?”
    Jack arched a brow. “Who? Your father?”
    Henry nodded.
    Jack suddenly looked sad. “No, lad, he won’t. But he’s asked me to take care of you, so if there’s anything you need—” He started to rise.
    â€œA puppy!” Henry blurted.
    The man stopped. “You need a puppy?”
    Henry nodded quickly.
    Jack winked at him. “We’ll see about that.”
    He walked out of the room. Henry looked at Miss Tuppin. Her gaze was on the door, and she was chewing her bottom lip like she was thinking about something very hard.
    â€œEat your porridge, Henry.”
    Even though the porridge was slimy, he did as he was told, because her hand had slipped into her pocket.
    Â 
    Olivia stretched beneath the covers. She still had a headache, her throat had become raw, and her eyes felt gritty. The laudanum had helped her sleep, but it hadfailed to relieve her of the symptoms of mourning. She wondered how long they would linger.
    Then the lethargy wore off and she remembered the horror of discovering the terms of her husband’s will. She sat up abruptly and held her aching head. Her hair tumbled around her. When had she loosened it? Had she gone to bed without braiding it? Then her gaze fell on her hairpins, lined up neatly on the bedside table.
    Only, it wasn’t her bedside table. God help her, it wasn’t her bed.
    With mounting horror, she glanced around the room. Her husband’s bedchamber.
    Before last night, she’d only ever come in here once, a silly attempt to seduce her husband when he’d failed to come to her bed for more than a year after Henry had been born. She’d thought perhaps he wasn’t aware she was fully recovered from birthing and could return to her wifely