So in Love Read Online Free Page A

stitches. Every time she’d taken needle to fabric, the result had been a disaster. One of her more inventive—and kind—governesses had only smiled and said that the tiny little spots of blood adorning her needlework appeared like small flowers. Only later,and quite accidentally, the same governess determined that she couldn’t see well enough to sew.
    But Mademoiselle Danielle had disappeared just like a succession of governesses, none of whom could adhere to her father’s severe requirements that she be educated like a Jesuit while being as charming as a courtesan. The jeweler summoned by her governess had likewise been banished by her father, the glasses Jeanne needed to see properly to be taken out only when there were no visitors to their home and no chance of anyone seeing her wearing them.
    Heaven forbid that the daughter of the Comte du Marchand have any flaws.
    Donning her nightgown, she removed her glasses once more and washed her face and hands. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she prepared for sleep. Her ritual was one she’d begun at the Convent of Sacré-Coeur. There, the nuns had expected obedience, some outward manifestation of her inner faith. They could not know, of course, that she had none left. But she’d pretended, just in case curious eyes were looking at her through the grille set in the middle of the thick oak door. Now she folded her hands in front of her, her lips resting at her fingertips. Then she breathed her prayer in an inaudible whisper.
    Please, let me die tonight. Let my heart cease beating, and my breath still. Please, do not let me see the dawn.
    Tonight, however, the imploration did not come as quickly or as easily as a day ago.
    She knew that there would come a time when she would be called upon to face the consequences of her actions. There would be no mercy for her, no explanation that she could possibly make, nothing that she could say that would expiate her guilt. But she’d not expected that day to be this one or the judgment to be from the one man she’d always loved.
    If she were a more courageous woman, she’d marchdown the stairs at this moment and ask permission to address Douglas in private. She would tell him of those months when she waited for him and he never came, and how cowardly she became. She would confess, more completely than she ever had to a single soul, how much she regretted what happened next.
    Not even God could ever truly forgive her. But it might be a relief to have it over, to simply say the words to Douglas.
    I am guilty of murder.

Chapter 3
    D ouglas took leave from his host with less haste than he desired but probably more than was polite. The longer he listened to Hartley, the more aggravating the other man became, and when Hartley’s comments returned to Jeanne, Douglas found himself growing even more annoyed. By the end of the night he was envisioning planting his fist squarely into Hartley’s nose.
    He dismissed his carriage, choosing instead to walk home on this damp and foggy night. He needed time to think, but before he turned the corner, Douglas glanced back at Hartley’s home. A prosperous three-story brick structure, it appeared inviting with its lighted windows glowing yellow against the night.
    His gaze lifted to the third floor. She was there, readying herself for bed, no doubt. Or sitting at her charge’s bedside. Were those the duties of a governess? Or did she relinquish the care of the child to a nurse and dismissed all thought of him until morning? He realized his knowledge of governesses was paltry.
    When he’d thought of Jeanne, it was either with irritation or sadness—irritation that Fate had taken her far from his punishment, and sadness that he’d been such a fool in the first place.
    Now, however, he felt only hatred, an emotion so strong that it energized him. He wanted to retrace his path to Hartley’s door, demand entrance, and push his way past the manservant. He would make his way up three flights of stairs