Free Darke London by Coleen Kwan

I was before…”
    “But I didn’t know what you looked like before.” He chafed her frozen fingers between his two broad palms. “And besides, it’s what lies beneath the skin that counts. It’s how a woman conducts herself that’s more important than any fleeting beauty.”
    Several moments passed as she gazed at him before she slipped her hand free. “That is true, and in that regard I haven’t conducted myself well either. I should not have allowed you to kiss me, Julian, and I should not have allowed myself to enjoy it so much.”
    His heart leaped before the rest of her words sunk in. “What do you mean?”
    The delicate bone structure of her face stood out in stark relief as she clenched her jaw. “I mean, it was wrong of me to allow such intimacies between us because I’m not a free agent.” She held his gaze. “You see, I am already married.”

Chapter Six
    “Married?” Julian shrank away from Nellie. His frozen rictus could not have been more horrified if she’d sprouted a second head. “Who are you married to? Surely not…” A vein pulsed in his perspiring brow. “For the love of everything, tell me you are not married to Thaddeus Ormond.”
    “N-no,” she choked out. “Not Sir Thaddeus, but his son. I am married to Phillip Ormond.”
    His eyes darkened to black, fathomless pools. He wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his forehead. “Phillip Ormond. I see.” Hauling in breath, he swung away and stalked over to the brandy bottle on the sideboard. The clatter of glass against glass sounded unnaturally loud in the hushed sitting room. “May I pour you a drink?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
    She nodded and took the tumbler he proffered with hands that shook uncontrollably. Reckless, she swallowed an incautious gulp, wincing as the brandy lit a fiery streak down her throat.
    “You told me your name was Nellie Barchester.”
    The accusation in his statement made her bite her lip. She smoothed down the skirts of her dress as she fought to regain her self-control. “I’ve only been married a few weeks. I—I haven’t yet become accustomed to using my married name.” In truth, there was much about married life she hadn’t grown accustomed to. Being called Mrs. Phillip Ormond had been the least of her concerns.
    “So. Are you going to tell me how you came to be married?”
    He stood away from her, his expression austere, his entire bearing hard and distant. Her heart sank. Until then, she hadn’t realised how much she’d counted on being in Julian’s good graces, but now his forbidding countenance chilled her to the core, causing the words to stutter out of her.
    “Yes,” she whispered, clasping her tumbler of brandy. “I shall tell you everything…”
     
    The asylum where Nellie and her father lived took a variety of patients. Some were clearly deranged and lived permanently at the asylum, but others were suffering only temporary lapses, and departed once they recovered.
    One day Phillip Ormond was brought to the asylum. For several weeks he’d been staying at a nearby inn, until his increasingly unsettling behaviour and mounting unpaid bills had resulted in an altercation with the innkeeper. He’d suffered a nervous collapse, and the irate innkeeper had summoned the constable, who’d promptly bundled him off to the asylum, keen to be rid of the problem.
    From the first day, Nellie was drawn to the young man. She was nineteen, had spent most of her life at the asylum, and had little experience with personable gentlemen. That he was a gentleman was evidenced by his unblemished face and smooth hands, his soft, springy curls, his finely tailored clothes and boots, and the leather-bound books of poetry in his luggage. The fact he appeared not to have a penny to his name was neither here nor there. Nellie found herself spending many hours at his bedside, mopping his fevered brow, tucking in his sheets, spooning mutton broth into his mouth. She daydreamed about who he was and what