Free Miss Marianne's Disgrace by Georgie Lee Page A

attention from sliding down and increasing the fury reddening her cheeks. ‘Except you took what I told you about my mother and twisted it into a tale to amuse dairy maids and hack drivers.’
    â€˜I took something you’ve been ashamed of and made it into something you could be proud of. I thought you’d be pleased.’
    â€˜You were wrong.’ She glowered at him like a schoolmarm ready to switch a naughty student, except she was the kind of woman who filled a young man’s fantasies, not his nightmares.
    â€˜No one will see you in Lady Matilda, or think her story has anything to do with yours. I hid it too well.’
    â€˜Of course they will, especially when they realise we’re acquainted with one another.’ She whirled around, her blue dress fluttering about the curve of her hips as she marched to the door.
    â€˜Miss Domville, wait.’ She didn’t stop, but took hold of the wrought-iron handle. He couldn’t let her go. ‘I won’t publish the story if it troubles you so much.’
    She released the handle. It dropped against the door with a thud as she turned to him, as astonished by his offer as he was. ‘You won’t publish it?’
    â€˜I won’t make money off your unease.’ Even if he lost everything else, his word and his honour would still be his, he’d make sure of it. ‘In fact, you may keep this copy of the manuscript.’
    He held out the journal to her, his grip tight on the paper as the full weight of what he’d volunteered to do settled over him.
    She returned to him and took the story out of his outstretched hand. ‘And your original copy? How do I know you won’t send it to your publisher after I leave?’
    â€˜I’ll burn it, now, so you can be sure.’
    â€˜You’d do such a thing, for me?’ She clasped the journal to her chest and for a moment he was jealous of the book resting against her soft curves.
    â€˜Yes.’ He picked up the stack of loose pages and tapped them twice against his palm, hesitating before he tossed them into the grate beside him. The gesture burned him as much as the flames did the parchment. Lady Matilda’s story had been a godsend after months of nothing. Now he was no better off than before. ‘It was never my intention to betray your trust.’
    She watched with him while his words turned to ashes. ‘Then why did you write it?’
    â€˜Because, until the day you came here, I hadn’t been able to write a single useful word for months. With the exception of Lady Matilda’s story, I still can’t.’ He looked at her, noting how the light from the rising flames consuming the manuscript reflected in her clear eyes. He’d hidden his failing from everyone, from his mother to Mr Berkshire. It was a relief to finally admit it someone.
    â€˜I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.’ Nor did she offer to let him publish her copy of the work. He wouldn’t ask her either. He’d made a pledge to her, and he would keep it, as he had all the others he’d made to himself, his mother and to Leticia’s memory, no matter how much it hurt.
    â€˜It’s all right. I’ll write something else.’
    She flicked a glance at the wads of papers scattered around his chair. ‘How?’
    That’s what I’d like to know .
    Warren watched the flames die down, their new fuel spent. Miss Domville’s playing had bolstered him like Leticia’s encouraging letters used to do when he’d written in the semi-darkness of the ship. The influence Miss Domville’s playing had exerted over his creativity had left with her. In the last few days, since finishing Lady Matilda, he’d tried everything he could think of to reclaim it, even hiring a young man from the village church to play while he’d worked, but it hadn’t been the same. There’d been something about her presence, as at Lady