Free Trust Me by Natasha Blackthorne

old
earl, had been one of the most powerful Tory forces in the House of Lords.
Jon’s father had been expected to follow in his footsteps. Grandfather’s power
and money had virtually assured Gerald Lloyd of a seat in the House of Commons.
But he hadn’t the force of personality or personal discipline to carry it off.
He had debauched himself into an early grave before Jon had been placed in
trousers.
    And that failure had
sealed Jon’s fate as a young man. Grandfather had decided that this son born of
his failed second son would also fail at politics and therefore decreed that
Jon would enter divinity school.
    But Jon had not
wanted to be a clergyman any more than he had wanted to be a politician. He had
chosen to defy Grandfather and become a warrior instead.
    Now, all the great
wars had been fought and won. And Jon was an earl with a seat in the House of
Lords.
    How that must gall
Grandfather.
    There was some joy to
be found in that.
    Before, Jon had taken
part in the House of Lords in the same way he partook of everything that had
come with his inheritance of the earldom. He had attended those debates and
votes that he found entertaining.
    A soft sound drew his
attention. He looked up. Anne had awakened. She sat leaning towards the window,
with her eyes focused on the greyish mass on the horizon that was London.
    “Good afternoon,
beautiful,” he said.
    She didn’t turn, she
just kept staring out the window and gripping the seat.
    Perhaps she had not
heard him over the sounds of the carriage.
    “Anne,” he said,
louder this time. “Why don’t you come over here?”
    He waited. No
response. He touched his boot to her shoe. “Anne.”
    “What?” Her
distracted voice held tension.
    Jon had long been sensitive
to other people’s emotional cues. It had proved necessary growing up in a house
filled with underlying tension and underhanded conflict. It had served him well
in the Dragoons when leading his men. Such sensitivity had also served him well
with women, for purposes of seduction.
    However, he was not
used to feeling such cues right down to the pit of his stomach. Anne’s least
pain was his own and it had been that way from the start to some degree. But it
became more so the longer and better he knew her.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.”
    Jon’s jaw tensed.
“I’ll ask once more, what’s troubling you?”
    “I am quite all
right.” She turned and gave him a smile that was too bright. It didn’t match
her eyes. Eyes that held deep shadows.
    He gently pried her hand
off the seat. Then he stripped her glove off and touched her fingers. They were
ice-cold.
    His frustration
increased to a breaking point but he took a deep breath and forced his voice to
be soft. “Anne, I’ll ask once more, and this time, don’t be evasive. What’s the
matter?”
    “I have told you
already, nothing is wrong.”
    His every nerve
bristled with an impotent sort of energy to fix the situation. But who could
make a woman speak if she would not? He tapped his fingers on his knee.
    They were about to
face a most straining scenario. They had to present her to Society as a stable
and whole young woman.
    And truth was, she
still suffered from the after-effects of the accident. She was emotionally
fragile, shy and adorably, maddeningly knotty-headed.
    It was up to him to
guide her
    How could he help her
cope with her fears and anxieties if she wouldn't share them openly with him?
How could he anticipate how she would react to things around them if he didn’t
know what was on her mind?
     
    Jon’s impatience
reverberated on the air, electrifying Anne’s every nerve ending. Sometimes his
emotions, especially when he was attempting to suppress them—as he was now—,
proved too powerful for her.
    And right now, her
own emotions were overwhelming her as it was.
    If only there was a
way to have a moment to herself. Just some breathing space. But there wasn’t.
She glanced out the window again. Her throat seemed to seize