Free A Love Laid Bare by Constance Hussey

someday,
perhaps. Supposing, of course, that he ever forgave her and a time
came when he no longer hated her.
    Did he hate her? Hate was such a strong word.
Frances absently ran her fingers over the rough material of the
bag. She did not hate him, had never done so, even when faced with
the unmistakable evidence of his infidelity. Forgiveness is
another matter, isn’t it, Frances? You think you have put it aside,
accepted infidelity as something to expect in a marriage? What will
you do if the affair continues?
    Truth to tell, she did not know.

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    The post chaise had arrived. Frances was so informed
as soon as she descended the stairs into the lobby. Charles Reede
was there to greet her and escort her to the door.
    “Mrs. Blake is outside, with Flora and Nancy—and Lord
Halcombe, who appears rather impatient, although I believe you are
beforehand of the appointed time.”
    “Halcombe will be anxious to leave as early as
possible, since he intends to make the journey in one day,” Frances
said. A post chaise. He had realized the larger vehicle was needed
to accommodate all of them. Was he planning to ride in the chaise,
or drive his curricle? Frances felt a moment of dread. Please
heaven, let it be the curricle . Spending an entire day in such
close proximity with her husband was not anything to wish for.
    “You’ve a long day ahead and I hope for everyone’s
well-being Flora sleeps much of the way,” Charles said. “I am
surprised you will be taking the time to call on the dowager
Halcombe.”
    Frances gave him a quizzical look. “The truly amazing
thing is that the dowager agreed to see us at this hour. Leticia is
inclined to stay abed of a morning.”
    “Like you, I don’t suppose the earl gave her any
choice.” Charles halted just outside the entrance, turned to face
her, and enfolded both her hands between his. “I admit to some
uneasiness with this entire situation. I want your word that you
will enlist our aid should the circumstances become untenable.”
    The warmth in his eyes was shadowed with concern.
Frances felt her throat close.
    “I promise. Thank you,” she whispered. She disengaged
from his grasp and hurried toward the chaise. Halcombe waited by
the vehicle, watching as one of the hotel footmen assisted Nancy
inside. Flora was jumping up and down with excitement. Frances
suspected that without Aunt Olivia’s tight grip, the child would
dash over to the horses.
    Her mood lightened by her daughter’s enthusiasm—and
by the sight of the curricle parked behind the chaise—Frances
greeted Halcombe agreeably, lifted Flora, and undaunted by her
husband’s stony silence, smiled at her aunt.
    “Say good-bye to Auntie, pet.”
    Flora leaned forward and placed a sloppy kiss on
Olivia’s cheek. “Bye-bye. Kiss?” She tilted her head and waited
expectantly.
    Olivia smiled and returned the child’s kiss. Flora
giggled, and taking advantage of this good humour, Frances handed
her up to Nancy.
    Annoyed at the impatience evident on her husband’s
face, Frances suppressed the urge to invent some kind of delay, and
after giving her aunt a brief hug, allowed the footman to hand her
up the steps. Once seated, Frances leaned out the open door. “Thank
you for everything,”
    Aunt Olivia’s face was almost as stolid as
Halcombe’s. “Write to me,” she said briskly. She gave the earl a
pointed look and walked quickly to where Charles Reede waited with
commendable patience—and the special smile he reserved for
Olivia.
    Frances smiled to herself. Aunt Olivia was a
fortunate woman. This long visit with Charles’ family might be what
was needed to bring her aunt to acknowledge what she surely must
suspect—that she loved Charles. Now if Charles could bring himself
to the point, they might be planning a wedding by the end of the
summer. Frances certainly prayed so.
    She put Flora on her lap so she could watch the
passing scene. Smelly and clamorous as the city was, it was