Page 72 of If the Slipper Fits
Anna frowned and considered where the beginning of her tale might be. The arrival of Angelique into her life seemed as good a place as any.
“After several years as a widower, Father remarried an apothecary whose shop he frequented. Her name is Angelique LeClare. A striking woman, tall, dark haired. He took a fancy to her on sight. I thought it a good thing. He’d mourned mother a long while.”
“Fair enough.”
“Angelique began to personally deliver the herbs and powders father requested. A particular friendship developed between them. An engagement ensued, and, soon after, a wedding.”
“How did you feel about them marrying?”
She gave a one-shoulder shrug and suppressed a shiver. The bath water had gone tepid. Cold seeped into her bones with each passing minute. Eventually she’d have to get out. Having never found herself in such a situation—naked, in a tub, in the company of a man—she wasn’t exactly sure how to broach the subject. Best to stay submerged a bit longer.
“He’d been terribly forlorn since mother’s death. He was utterly devoted to her. Mother would not have had it any other way.” She chuckled, remembering how her father had doted on her mother who always seemed to take his adoration as her due.
“Explains a few things,” Caden muttered.
“Beg pardon?”
He raised his brows and sent her a guileless grin. “Nothing important. Go on.”
She sniffed, and continued. “Angelique’s presence seemed to lighten his spirits. It wasn’t as if she tried to parent me. I was twenty when they wed, after all. My life went on as usual, at first.
“Then, for some reason, she let our housekeeper go. She claimed she wanted to see to the cooking and cleaning, only…most of the time, those duties fell to me. Especially when, after a nearly year of marriage, my father took ill.”
“How do you mean?”
“He became distracted. Confused. Clumsy. It soon became evident he had developed an ailment, but I’d never seen anything like it. Angelique claimed to have knowledge of it, and assumed his care. Nevertheless, his condition declined rapidly. He went from virile, to bed-ridden in a matter of months. One day, he simply didn’t wake up.
“It all happened so fast. I hadn’t considered what would befall us after his death. Certainly we’d never been poor, and I assumed he would have seen to me in his will. But…” She shook her head. “After meeting with father’s solicitor, Angelique sat me down and informed me we were penniless. She said my mother’s jewels had been sold off to pay father’s debts. I hadn’t known he had any significant debts.”
Caden leaned forward in his chair, gaze intent. “I’m confused. You told me your husband had left you penniless after stealing your inheritance, or something to that effect. Now you’re saying you had no inheritance to speak of.”
“If you’ll let me finish? You’re jumping ahead. And, Caden?”
He studied her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yes?”
“The water is quite chilly.”
Several seconds passed. “Shall I hold the towel for you?”
She blinked, unable to tell if he teased her. “No, of course not. Just…er…close your eyes?”
“Of course,” he agreed easily. He leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out before him, arms folded over his chest.
She peered at him. He sat very still, eyelids closed, silent as a church mouse. The bland expression on his face proclaimed him bored beyond measure.
Feeling unaccountably deflated by the notion, she rose, water sluicing down her body. Goosebumps fanned over her skin as the chill night air enveloped her. She climbed over the edge of the tub, grabbed the towel the maid had provided, and scrubbed the rough white cotton over her skin.
Something made her pause. She squinted over her shoulder at Caden.
He had not moved one iota as far as she could tell. She sniffed and resumed drying herself with the small linen.
Apparently he could care less she stood naked not ten feet away from him. He clearly no longer desired her. She could blame that entirely on his learning she’d married Baron Bolton. Only, hadn’t he pushed her away mid-kiss not once but twice, prior to learning about Bolton? Maybe he hadn’t liked how she kissed. Maybe her inexperience repelled him.
She wound the towel around the length of her hair, squeezing out the moisture.
Whatever the reason, it was clear his attraction for her had waned. Even so he remained chivalrous to a fault. Rather than toss her out on her ear when he found her crawling out of the luggage hold, he secured her a chamber, a hot meal, and a steaming bath.
“Finished?” He sounded irritated. Probably he was anxious to get to the end of her tale.
