Free As an Earl Desires by Lorraine Heath Page B

The entire time you were reading it to me, I
wondered if perhaps Dickens had met the old Sachse and was truly
writing about him.”
    â€œHe may well have been, but you’ll not
turn me away from the subject at hand. I don’t understand why
you insist on keeping your good works a secret?” Not only
from him, but apparently from everyone else as well, based upon
what he’d overheard.
    â€œBecause it’s a private part of me, a
bit that I own. The last remaining remnant of who I thought I would
be.” She sighed. “Makes me sound as though I belong in
a mental asylum…as though I am a looking glass that has been
shattered, and various shards reveal different sides to the same
thing.”
    He thought her description was probably more exact
than she realized. And he wondered if once shattered, a looking
glass could ever again be as it was before or would it forever
carry the marks that revealed it had once been handled without
care.
    He’d championed her before Spellman,
he’d kissed her, he’d struck a bargain with her that
would provide her with a modest income, but he’d failed truly
to reach her, to earn her unfettered trust. He eased farther into
the room, reached into the box of children’s items, and
pulled out a skate.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she asked.
    Searching for the woman in the
tower . Smiling, he turned to her. “Have you ever gone
rinking?”
    She looked positively horrified. “Of course
not.”
    He considered her attire. Her dress accentuated her
narrow waist and slender hips. He wondered if her smallness was at
all responsible for her being unable to give his predecessor an
heir.
    â€œGo change into something that doesn’t
fit quite as snugly.”
    â€œAre you mad?”
    He laughed. “Probably.” He took a step
toward her, she took a step back. He strove not to take offense.
He’d caught glimpses of a woman who intrigued him, like
looking through a kaleidoscope, where each turn revealed another
facet to the piece. He wanted to know every aspect to her.
“When was the last time you laughed?”
    â€œI frequently laugh.”
    â€œWith joy?”
    She furrowed her brow. “Is there any other
kind of laughter?”
    â€œCruel laughter. Sarcastic, harsh. The
saddest of all is when people laugh to hold back their
tears.”
    â€œWhy must you always qualify
things?”
    â€œSo you can’t remember the last time
you laughed with pure joy.” He stated it as fact, not inquiry
as he was beginning to learn that she found a way to redirect
questions when she didn’t particularly like the impression of
her that the answer would provide.
    â€œOf course I remember.”
    â€œShare the moment with me.”
    She held his gaze as though daring him to accept
the moment she was going to reveal. “I laughed when I
discovered the old Sachse was dead.”
    He imagined that she expected him to exhibit shock
at her revelation. Or perhaps pity. The words were delivered in her
usual icy manner. And he wondered if she’d mourned her own
passing of innocence with laughter. He smiled because he knew it
would unsettle her. “Just as I suspected. It’s been
years since you’ve laughed with joy. So come on. Change your
clothes so we can head to the park.”
    â€œArchie, we’re too old to
skate.”
    â€œNonsense, it’ll be great
fun.”
    â€œShopping is fun.”
    â€œWe’ll do a bit of that afterward if
you like, but for now hurry along.”
    â€œArch—”
    â€œGo along now.”
    She gave him one final glare before flouncing out
of the room as though she wasn’t at all happy with his
demands, but he suspected before the morning was finished,
he’d have her glad that she’d joined him.
    Lillian returned with several footmen in her wake.
She directed the servants to carry the packages to the waiting
carriage, then gave the set