A Husband's Wicked Ways Read Free Page B

except for the great battles in which the English fought, such as Trafalgar, which were reported in detail. Reports of Moore’s gallant and horrendous retreat and stand at Corunna were only just making it to the English newspapers. But if what the colonel had told her was true, herhusband’s presence there would have been covert and his death would not make it to the regularly published lists of the killed and missing.
    Frederick . She looked down at the unopened letter in her hand. She had to open it, yet she dreaded doing so. She knew absolutely that its contents would turn her ordered existence on its head. She wanted to pretend that this afternoon had never happened, put it out of her mind completely, and simply resume her customary life with Franny, with her friends, with the conventional, gentle social round.
    Aurelia stared unseeing at the paper in her hand. It was the life she and Frederick had accepted as their due. Quiet, comfortable, lacking for nothing, bringing with its serene pleasures the customary obligations of privilege. A life lived by everyone they knew, lived by rules and expectations that were bred into them from birth.
    But Frederick had not lived that life. He had pretended to do so, but he had been someone else, someone she didn’t know at all. And he had been prepared to sacrifice his marriage, fatherhood, the friendships of a lifetime. His wife. And for what? To live underground as a spy. Dead to everyone who knew him, who loved him. Had he given a thought to his wife and child when he’d made that decision? Had he intended to come back to her if he survived the war?
    A surge of hurt-fueled rage washed over Aurelia at this monumental deception her husband had practiced upon her. All the while he had been plotting his dangerous and exciting life, she had been plodding along on the established tracks and expecting to do so until her death.
    Her reluctance to open the letter vanished. It was sealed with wax imprinted with Frederick’s signet ring, which she still held tucked into her palm. She slit the wax impatiently with a fingernail and opened the sheet. Her head swam and her eyes blurred as she gazed at the sheet crammed with line after line in that flowing familiar handwriting. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she swallowed convulsively. It was as if Frederick was in the room with her. She could see his smiling green eyes, his full mouth, the long, gangly length of him. He never looked perfectly groomed, something was always slightly awry with his attire. And if she ever pointed it out to him, he would simply laugh. She could hear that laugh now, a light, cheerfully dismissive chuckle that told her he had more important things to consider than his appearance.
    And she knew full well now what those important things were. Not estate matters, or hunting issues, or any of the trivial pursuits that occupied his fellow country gentlemen. No, they were dangerous secrets, secrets that had led to his death. And in her hand now were his words, finally truthful words coming from beyond the grave.
    My dearest Ellie…
    A childish treble in the hall made her jump, then hastily fold the letter, pushing it into the shallow pocketof her skirt. Franny was back from her schoolroom day with Stevie Dagenham at the Bonhams’ house on Mount Street. Aurelia and Cornelia had decided it made good sense for the two children to share a governess until Stevie was sent away to school. He was seven, and Cornelia was fighting a battle with his grandfather the Earl of Markby to keep him at home at least until he was ten. She had Stevie’s stepfather on her side, and Harry had made a point of ingratiating himself with the earl, so Cornelia was hopeful. The shared governess was an arrangement that suited the children and their mothers, keeping the two households in close touch.
    “Morecombe…Morecombe…where’s Mama, I have to show her something.” Franny’s insistent voice brought Aurelia back to the present reality.