Free The Earl's New Bride (Entangled Scandalous) by Frances Fowlkes

The true relief will come in the identification of the source behind your aches.”
    He almost laughed. He knew damn well what contributed to his continual discomfort, and that could not be fixed. No cure existed for the wounds of betrayal and heartache. At least none he was willing to try.
    Regardless, he took the two proffered leaves and chewed them, swallowing their bitterness. He reveled in the immediate deliverance, as the roar dulled into a whimper.
    She slipped by him, lowering herself to the spot where she had previously stood, and retrieved a tea cup. “It is no longer steaming, but the tea is the same blend from the night prior. It should allow you to rest. But again, the relief is only temporary. It will not heal the wound.”
    “And nothing will,” he said assuredly. “But I shall take your remedy all the same and thank you for your…foresight.” He set his candle down on the path, his fingers touching hers as he lifted the cup from her hands.
    A jolt shot up his arm, tiny pricks of awareness lifting the hairs on the back of his neck.
    Lady Henrietta took a step back, as though she, too, had felt whatever had sparked between them. Clasping her elbows with her hands, she whispered, “One needn’t be gifted with prophecy to discern your discomfort and guess where you might go to seek amelioration.”
    “Oh?” Had his pain been so easily detectable in the course of their evening obligations? He thought he had hidden it rather well. Hell, he had even laughed at one of Satterfield’s jokes.
    “You appeared somewhat distraught at dinner, and afterwards at tea, you…you continually touched your finger to your temple.”
    His eyes narrowed. She was far shrewder than he originally devised. “And those actions denoted I might require your assistance?”
    Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “To those who can discern them, yes, I suppose they do.”
    “You must find me terribly predictable, Lady Henrietta.”
    Her eyes widened. “Not at all. You had me completely surprised at dinner.”
    “Did I?” He lifted his brows, despite the pain still lingering in his head. “You were the one who contradicted the marquess, correctly verifying the weight of the frog.”
    “I did,” she said slowly. “Though I-I-I did not believe you would select me as your companion of choice.”
    He choked on the warm, honey sweetened tea.
    “Too sweet?” she asked.
    “No.” He gulped down the remainder of the tea and held the cup at his waist. Had she been privy to his earlier decision? Or had he been so obvious in his selection of Miss Saxton, that she had cause to question his change of mind?
    Was that why Satterfield had been so relentless in his pursuit of Lady Henrietta? He thought Simon indifferent to her charms?
    Of course Simon was indifferent. With her silky black hair and extraordinary beauty, she was not an option for his wife.
    And he was a goddamn, lying idiot. He did not need both eyes to appreciate the delicate features of Lady Henrietta’s heart-shaped face. Or the low cut of her gown revealing the tops of two full breasts pressing against the lace-trim.
    And neither did Satterfield.
    “I fear I am far more predictable than you believe, my lady. I am only too honored to take the eldest daughter of my predecessor on a stroll about the grounds. Who else to better guide me about the estate?”
    “Oh. Yes, of course.” Her gaze lowered to the stone path. “I-I-I shall see you tomorrow.”
    …
    Henrietta started up the darkened path, her ivory-colored slippers clicking over the moss-covered stones.
    Lord, did she honestly believe he had selected her based on her intelligence? Or a desire to learn something from a woman? One who had assisted him on more than one occasion, who had clearly shown her competence in such areas?
    She was a naïve fool.
    He had acted out of kindness, nothing more. She was the eldest daughter of his predecessor. An obligation. Someone familiar with the property and best able to