Page 47 of Married to the Lord

“Henry, you do not need to apologize further.” Especially if it meant him speaking of his brother. His apologies sounded sincere and even if she could not fathom what sort of sensitive matter would keep him away all night or why he could not tell her of it, she would really rather forget the whole matter. It had been too embarrassing and horrible and disconcerting.

“You really are a wonderful girl,” Henry said. “I’m lucky no one decided to snap you up whilst I was gone.”

Augusta ignored the slightly patronizing tone and concentrated on keeping her expression neutral. The last thing he needed to know about was her and Miles and their silly kisses. The brothers had always been close and she would never wish to be responsible for ruining their relationship over what had to be just a big mistake.

Well, two big mistakes.

Nearly three.

“Henry,” she began but any thoughts of trying to talk openly with him fled when she spotted a gentleman walking along the country path that met the road just ahead. Although,gentlemanwas a bit of a stretch. She had not seen Mr. Jenkins since the day Miles had punched him and for that she was grateful. What was he doing here, near her house, she did not know, and nor did she wish to.

“Perhaps we should just walk...”

Mr. Jenkins waved a hand in greeting. “Miss Snow.”

Her stomach sank. Henry would be nothing but polite and she could not think of a reason to ignore him without explaining about the rumors and her silly attempt at trying to get Henry home. Henry introduced himself to Mr. Jenkins and the men briefly conversed but Augusta could feel Mr. Jenkins’s gaze upon her. The flicker behind his eyes felt predatory, as though she were some delicate prey that he wished to put between his teeth and snap the neck of.

She cast her gaze behind him, focusing on the ancient oak tree that had been there for likely hundreds of years. How she envied that tree with its strong roots and firm trunk. She felt more like a seed, blowing on the wind, her future being dictated by the breath of others. If she had half the strength of that tree, she would stomp her feet, declare that Mr. Jenkins was a scoundrel and that she was indeed still angry with Henry.

But, no. She had none of it. Instead she forced a polite smile and listened to them discuss her and her marriage to Henry, all the while suffering under Mr. Jenkins’s predatory stare.

She finally loosened a breath when Mr. Jenkins bid them farewell and she and Henry continued their walk back to the house.

“Seems a decent chap that Jenkins.”

“I do not like him one jot,” she muttered.

“Pardon?”

Augusta bit down on her bottom lip. “Oh, nothing.”

Lord, if only she were not such a coward.

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