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was something he never wished to repeat. Not ever.

He looked at the woman walking next to him. Would she abandon him in the same way? He’d only known her a day, but his gut told him she wouldn’t. Perhaps he could tell her the truth, the whole truth, and she’d understand. He never shared the details of his disease, to do so might be refreshing. Or humiliating. And that’s what held his tongue.

They continued to walk, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. Once back at the cottage, they found dinner on the stove, the maid having returned to the main house for the evening.

Austin gestured for her to sit. “Tonight, I serve you.”

She started, her face infusing with a pink blush that made her look even more vibrant. “That won’t be necessary. It’s my job—”

He pulled out her chair. “I insist, my lady.’

She sat, carefully arranging her skirts, smoothing the fabric. He loved her hands. They were delicate and as beautiful as the rest of her, long tapered fingers touching everything with such a gentle brush. He reached for her hand and felt the callouses on her fingers and palm from all the work her father had made her complete.

His thumb skimmed across the rough skin. “You cooked for him, obviously. What else?”

She looked down at their joined hands. “I…I cleaned. When he was too ill to get out of bed…” Her tongue darted out and she licked her lips. “I would take care of him.”

“Is he ill? Other than his drinking?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He didn’t exactly share with me. Mostly, he treated me as though I were a nuisance.”

Austin suppressed a growl of irritation. Like he needed any more evidence the man was a fool. “And how did your mother die?”

Gabriella shook her head. “I’m not entirely certain. My father said she was ill, but one day she seemed perfectly healthy and the next day…she was gone.”

Her fingers tightened against his and Austin kept a blank expression on his face as her eyes lifted to meet his. Because that didn’t sound good at all. Something seemed suspicious about her mother’s sudden death. But it would do little to alarm Gabriella now. He needed to know what sort of man he was dealing with.

He knew her father was scum, of course. He’d callously tossed his daughter to the fattest purse without even a backward glance or a single look of concern.

But if Gabriella’s mother had died under odd circumstances…

He needed more information.

With that in mind, he let his wife’s hand go and made his way into the kitchen to serve up dinner.

After they ate, he’d decided it was time to take a trip into the village.

Chapter Eight

Austin made his way back to the village, his thoughts on Gabriella. He’d left her curled in the chair again, her anxious eyes following him to the door. She hadn’t openly disagreed with him as he’d announced he had a brief errand to run in the village, but her gaze had taken on a haunted look. Still, she’d given a silent nod and settled in the chair next to the fire.

He’d determined to return as soon as he could.

He didn’t mean to worry her. In fact, he was leaving her to keep her safe.

It didn’t take him longer than a quarter hour to return to the village and make his way into the tavern. He saw Mr. Winston seated at the center of the bar with a large ale in front of him, along with several empty glasses. Austin pulled his hat lower on his head and headed to the back of the establishment instead. He was here to observe. Ask questions of others if he could.

A large hand shot out, stopping his progress. “Mr. Melrose,” Mr. Sharpe said, releasing him. “I’m surprised to see you here with a new bride at home.” The accusation in the words was evident.

But Austin realized, Sharpe might be just the man to get him started. “It’s because of Mrs. Melrose that I am here.”

Sharpe’s mouth turned down. Austin had likely irritated the man by reminding him that it was Austin and not himself who’d married her. “May I sit, Mr. Sharpe?”

The man gave a single nod, and Austin sat, his back to Mr. Winston.

“You’re here because of Gabriella. What about her?”

Austin raked a hand through his hair. “Any man who so callously tossed his daughter away is not a man I trust.”

Mr. Sharpe’s eyes lit with understanding. “You’re right to worry. Winston is not only a drunk and a gambler, he’ll cheat any way he can. I’ve seen him sell the same piece of property three times at least. In addition, there is suspicion that he mur—” Mr. Sharpe stopped, his jaw snapping shut. “I’m saying too much. Odd. I’m not usually a talking man.”

Austin shook his head. “It’s all right. The more you say, the more you help her. If I’m to keep him out of her life, I need to know what I’m up against.”

Mr. Sharpe gave a single nod as he settled back in his chair, staring at Austin. “Will you take her away from here?”

“Soon,” he said.

“Good.” Mr. Sharped took a swig of his ale. “The further she is from that scoundrel, the better.”

Had he just gotten some measure of support from the large butcher? “I’m glad you approve. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

Mr. Sharpe leaned forward. “Make sure your union with Gabriella is ironclad. I told you, he’s a swindler. And make sure to protect any assets from him. He’s deuced smart, I’ll give him that.”

Austin gave a grim nod. “Anything else I should know, Mr. Sharpe?”

Mr. Sharpe leaned closer, his voice dropping low. “Gabriella’s mother died from a fall down the stairs. But a month later, the coroner had a nice piece of land that had once belonged to Winston. It’s made people suspicious. There’s some that say…”

Austin understood. And he’d learned what he’d need to. “Thank you, Mr.

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