The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,29

he said, and the weight of that pressed down on him. “Do not worry yourself.”

She pivoted and faced him fully. “This is me you are talking to, Rhys. I might not have to worry, but I can see your concerns written on every line of your face. Unburden yourself. Tell me how bad this truly is.”

He cleared his throat. When she stared up at him like that, her green gaze steady and true, he felt as though he could tell her anything. He wanted to tell her everything. She was a siren that way, calling him to her.

“The House of Leighton is not a poor one,” he said slowly. “But we are not the richest, either. I will not lie and tell you that this will not…change things for me.”

Her expression softened and she reached for him, tracing her fingertips across the top of his hand. “I am more sorry than I can express. You didn’t deserve this, Rhys. None of us did.”

“Deserve or not, it is mine to carry and I will carry it,” he said, catching her hand and folding it between his own. Her fingers flexed against his palm and it sent a shot of awareness through him. And peace. When she touched him there was peace, even in this gathering storm.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Her voice was soft because they were so close. He stared down into her beautiful face and saw a thousand ways she could comfort him. All of them went against the rules they had put up, the walls they had erected a few days before.

“I would like you to carry on with Kenley,” he said. “Here in Bath. I will take care of the debts on the house and cover of all the expenses.”

She withdrew her hand from his. “Oh. I see.”

Her tone was suddenly flat, and he wrinkled his brow as she paced away from him to stand at the fire.

“You don’t want to stay in Bath?” he pressed. She didn’t answer. “When I came into the parlor earlier, I overheard that you had received a letter from your father.”

She jolted as if she’d forgotten and dug into her pelisse pocket for the note. “I was distracted. But yes.”

“I know it is complicated with your family,” Rhys urged gently.

“That is a polite way of saying it,” she said. “Let me read what he has written.”

He watched as she broke the wax seal and unfolded the papers. It was not a long letter, that was apparent from the scratched-out words he could see on the paper, even from a distance, but she stared at it a long time. When she finally shifted her gaze to him, there was no color left in her cheeks.

“He is…he’s coming here today,” she stammered. “Without warning, without invitation. He says he will be here at two and it is…”

Before she could finish, there was a light chiming from the clock on the mantel. Two dings. And, as if conjured by the devil himself, at the same time there was a loud, insistent rapping on the front door down the hall.

Chapter 9

Pippa couldn’t feel her arms. That had always been one of the many physical manifestations of the anxiety her father caused her. When he was angry, when he was cruel, it was as if it sank beneath her skin and caused a reaction in her body.

She had no doubt he would be cruel today. Their last interaction, that letter she’d received in London, had been the worst one ever. She didn’t want to repeat it in person. But what choice did she have?

His voice boomed in the foyer—he was shouting at Barton, demanding he see her.

“I will ascertain if Mrs. Montgomery is in residence, sir,” Barton said, his voice muffled and far away.

“She’s in bloody residence and I will not wait.” Mr. Windridge’s steps pounded as he walked, Pippa assumed, into the front parlor to wait.

Pippa bent her head, cheeks burning that her father would bring that cruelty down on her poor butler’s head. She couldn’t look at Rhys, not right now. Not ever again, perhaps.

But of course he didn’t not allow that. He moved toward her and his finger slid beneath her chin. He forced her to look at him, be centered by the soft blue of his gaze.

“I am coming with you,” he said. “You won’t be alone.”

Her legs almost went out from beneath her at that statement. She had felt so alone all her life. Even with others, even