Page 80 of The Earl She Once Saved

“Am I?”

“Oh, yes. A house of this size requires a man’s attention.”

Verity felt the old anger stir. It was almost a relief.

“Edgeworth has managed quite well without it.”

“Of course,” Celestine beamed with politeness. “You have done admirably.”

The compliment landed exactly as Celestine intended: a kind word given to a woman whose usefulness was about to end.

“But it must be a comfort to have him here now,” Celestine continued. “Particularly in your … unusual position.”

Verity’s back went straight. Celestine’s expression softened with false concern.

“A married woman must be ever so careful.”

The clock ticked.

“Careful of what?”

“Why, appearances of course.” Celestine lowered her voice, though there was no one else in the room. “Rafe is generous. He thinks nothing of what others may make of his kindness. But the county notices everything.”

“Yes.”

“And with your husband still living …”

There it was, that scandalous suggestion that went beyond a mere marriage to the brother of one’s deceased husband. Verity tasted metal.

Celestine tilted her head. “Surely I need not remind you.”

No.

No one ever needed to remind Verity that Roland lived. The knowledge had occupied every room she entered for years. It sat beside her in church, followed her through village lanes and whispered behind her at assemblies.

Married.

Abandoned.

Unavailable.

Something shook loose inside her. It was not merely anger at the insult. It was the thought of Celestine upstairs in Rafe’s room, Celestine’s hand where Verity’s had rested against his face, Celestine receiving the look Rafe had given her in the hall, when he said he believed she might mind if he were hurt.

The feeling was hot, sudden and humiliating.

Jealousy.

Verity rejected the word.

Celestine had nothing she wanted.

Nothing.

Verity met her smile. “You need not fear for Lord Edgeworth’s reputation.”

“I did not say I feared for his.”

The needle entered cleanly. Verity felt it. She did not permit herself to bleed.