“Of course not,” he assured her.

  “It was nice of you to come in person. I will certainly relay your message.” She turned from him.

  “Wait.”

  Lady Acker glanced back. “Yes?”

  “I need to speak with Miss Mirabelle, do you know where I might locate her?”

  Lady Acker tilted her head and studied him.

  “Don’t be cruel, Julia,” Mrs. John Trent said from the top of the stairs. “My husband took Geneviève to your shipping offices a short while ago.”

  She was probably there to demand if he had located her mother’s items.

  “She wished to speak with you before she left,” Mrs. Trent added.

  “Left?” Where was she going?

  “Yes, she is sailing to the Caribbean in the morning.”

  His heart stopped. Geneviève was leaving him? Going halfway across the world? Why?

  He didn’t bother to ask the two ladies but quickly uttered a “good day” and bolted out of the townhouse. He had to find Geneviève and talk some sense into her. But what if she was gone from there already? He could spend the rest of the day and night going from one place to another in search of her. But he wouldn’t stop until he found her. There was no way he was going to allow her to board a ship and leave him.

  Chapter 30

  “Mr. Bridges has left for the day,” the man named Jones advised.

  Her heart sank and Geneviève turned to John. “I suppose we should return home.” If he wasn’t here, why hadn’t he called on her? Had he dismissed her so easily?

  “You can give me direction for the delivery,” Jones said.

  She blinked at him. “Delivery?”

  “Yes. I assumed you had come about your mother’s crates.”

  Her heart lightened knowing they had been found, but why hadn’t Bridges told her? “Have them delivered to the house on Henrietta Street. He knows the direction.”

  “Very good.” Jones nodded. “Is there something else I could help you with?”

  Yes, tell me where Bridges has gone off to because I would like a word with him, but Geneviève did not say that. “No thank you.” Turning, she left the warehouse, John by her side, and emerged into the sunlight.

  “Why didn’t he tell me my mother’s things had been found?”

  “I am sure he had a good reason,” John assured her.

  “What reason? Did he wish to avoid me?”

  John placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. “I am certain that is not it.”

  She hated that tears welled in her eyes, but she was heartbroken. Bridges hadn’t bothered to contact her in days and he had found her mother’s belongings. Did he dislike her so much now? Was he still so angry? Had he even ever loved her?

  She wouldn’t even have the chance to tell him goodbye, not that it probably mattered to him.

  John handed her a handkerchief when she sniffed. “Do you love him so much?”

  Geneviève nodded, unable to speak as the tears began to flow.

  “Why don’t we look for him? Perhaps he is at home.”

  “No!” She shook her head with a vengeance. “He could not be bothered to visit me and I am not going to track him down like some infatuated schoolgirl.”

  “It is far more than infatuation,” John said quietly.

  “Not that it matters.” Geneviève straightened her spine. She would not waste tears over Bridges anymore. She now knew what kind of man he was and it was best that she learned now before it was too late and they were married. “I would like to leave him a note, however.”

  “We can have a letter delivered,” John assured her.

  “No. I want to leave it in his office.” She turned and marched back into the warehouse. Jones was nowhere to be found and the other workers were busy with their tasks. It didn’t matter. She knew where his office was and she marched up the stairs. John trailed after her.

  Geneviève paused when she pushed the door open to his office. “Goodness. He still has not hired a secretary.” Though not as bad as it had been the first time she had been in here, Bridges desk was still piled with papers. How did he manage to get anything accomplished? There were boxes stacked at the back of the room, ones she recognized from the work she had done for him. He hadn’t put anything away yet.

  Pulling off her gloves Geneviève marched around the desk and took her spectacles from inside of her reticule.

  “What are you doing?” John demanded.

  “I can’t leave him a note in this mess. He might not find it for a year.”

  “You shouldn’t go through another man’s desk,” John warned.

  “That is too bad.” Geneviève settled into the seat. “I am going to organize this for him whether he likes it or not. Then I will leave my note and be gone.” She picked up the documents and began organizing them in the same manner as she had done before. John sighed, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I believe we have discussed that it isn’t proper for you to rifle through a man’s papers or rummage around his desk.”

  Geneviève’s heads snapped up at the sound of Bridge’s voice.

  He hadn’t missed her! And she looked even lovelier than she had the first time he had come across her going through his documents. Her intelligent grey eyes blinked at him above the gold rim of her spectacles.

  “If you would see to this task, I would not have to.”

  He sauntered into the room. “I haven’t had time.”

  “Nor have you hired a secretary.” She pursed her lips and continued organizing his papers.

  He tilted his head and studied her. Despite his arguments that she would be a distraction and it was dangerous, this is where she belonged. “I don’t intend to.”

  She jerked her head up. “If you don’t, you will have more disorder than before, and within a year.” Geneviève pressed her hands against the top of the desk and stood. “Furthermore, why didn’t you tell me that you found my mother’s belongings?”

  “I tried,” Bridges defended, though he loved when was riled like this. It made him want to kiss her all the more.

  “I didn’t receive a note.”

  “That is because this afternoon I tried to call on you first at Acker’s, then Benley’s, only to be told you were here.” He stepped further into the room. “I should have known you wouldn’t simply wait but set about organizing my office.”

  “Someone needs to.”

  A grin pulled at his lips. “I know.”

  “Then what do you intend to do about it? You can’t wait too long or the secretary you hire will walk out on the first day.”

  “I told you, I don’t intend to hire anyone.”

  Her mouth fell open in what he assumed was surprise and he walked around the desk, noting John Trent for the first time. So much for pulling Geneviève into his arms and kissing her until she had lost all sense. “Trent, I did not see you.”

  The man pulled away from the wall and chuckled. “I gathered as much.”

  “Well, at least she didn’t come here alone, again.”

  Geneviève narrowed her eyes on him and pursed her lips. He should be careful not to anger her further, or she would walk out and he then where would he be? Wasn’t she leaving for the Caribbean with the first tide? At least she thought she was but he had different plans.

  “I’ll leave you two to discuss Bridge’s need for a secretary and wait by the stairs.”

  With her half-brother out of the way, Jonathan could do as he wished, almost. Jonathan made his way further around the desk until he stood behind it.

  Geneviève turned to face him. “You cannot continue on without a secretary. You don’t have time to see to all of this yourself.” She gestured to the stack of documents upon his desk.

  “I know,” he agreed.

  “Then why aren’t you going to hire a new secretary?” She asked with exasperation.

  “Because,” he leaned in and kissed her, quickly and chaste. “I intend on offering the position to my wife.”

  Geneviève pulled back and blinked at him. “Wi…wife?”

  “Yes,” he answered her stunned question. “If she is willing of course. I have it on good authority that she isn’t the type to sit around and gossip and shop all day.”

  “You still wish to marry me?” she asked quietly as if confused or she didn’t quite believe him.

  “Of course, I can’t allow you to go on holiday, visiting the Caribbean. You are needed here, after a proper wedding trip of course.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. Good God, he hoped he hadn’t made her unhappy. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Was she still going to leave him? “Are you upset?”

  She shook her head, a smile blossoming on her face as tears leaked out of her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

  Jonathan pulled Geneviève into his arms and kissed her.

  Her arms wound around his neck as they deepened the kiss.

  “You should probably ask her again so that there is no confusion,” John called out. Apparently, he could hear their entire conversation. “One should never assume the lady in question is going to agree to marriage no matter how much you kiss her or she kisses you back.”

  Jonathan chuckled and pulled away. He looked deeply into Geneviève's grey eyes. “Miss Geneviève Mirabelle, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife and partner?”

  “Yes,” she cried and flung her arms about him once again. “Oh, Jonathan, I do love you.”

  He laughed, holding her close. “And I love you.”

  Thank you

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you for reading LADY CONCEALED, the eighth book in the Tenacious Trents Series. For more Tenacious Trents, see links to the full series below. If you'd like to keep up with my books, new releases, and other news there are many ways to follow me.

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  Excerpt ~ A Tenacious Trents Wedding (A Second Epilogue)

  (Book #9 of the Tenacious Trents Series)

  © Copyright 2015, 2018 – Jane Charles

  All Rights Reserved

  April, 1815

  Rose Trent, Dowager Countess of Bentley, dabbed at her eyes as Geneviève Mirabelle began her walk down the aisle. She looked absolutely stunning in the sea blue satin gown with a gossamer overdress of soft green, trimmed with tiny pearls. Geneviève had not wanted anything so fine, or expensive, and insisted her best dress would do for the occasion, but Bentley ordered otherwise.

  Clayton Trent, Earl of Bentley, the bride’s half-brother, was in charge of this day. The fine wedding at St. George’s, the wedding breakfast, though a luncheon in this case, and a ball to follow, were not because he favored Geneviève over his other three, half-sisters, but for the single purpose of sending a message to the haute ton. And, it all was about to begin with the exchange of vows.

  He’d even paid the fee for a special license, all so the marriage could take place today, on an already busy day for the Mayfair parish church, at two in the afternoon.

  Mr. Jonathan Bridges waited for his bride, formally dressed in long, dark trousers, a black frock coat with claw hammer tails, and a silver and black striped waistcoat. His white cravat was expertly and intricately tied, and the smile on his face was evidence of the happiness he felt upon seeing his bride. The love in his light brown eyes when he looked at Geneviève was almost painful it was so beautiful.

  Nobody had ever looked at Rose the way Bridges looked at Geneviève. Or, the way any of her stepsons looked at their wives. It was also long past the time that anyone would. She wasn’t a young woman any longer and the last of the children was about to be wed.

  Rose lowered her head and chuckled to herself. None of them were children any longer. In fact, the only ones she’d known as children were the Trent brothers: Clayton, Jordan, Matthew, and John, though Clayton was only a few years younger than her. She’d been closer to his age than his father’s on the day she married. Despite the five years that separated them, she’d become Clayton’s stepmother when he was only ten.

  Even though this was a cheerful day, and she was genuinely happy for Geneviève, Rose experienced a bit of melancholy as well. What was she do to with herself now? The boys never really needed her, though they cared for her, and took care of her after their father died, the girls no longer needed her guidance either.

  A sigh escaped and Rose hoped that the others thought was due to the emotion of the wedding, but it was more because of her memories. So much had happened since her husband died. A day Rose would never forget because it brought relief, not sorrow. Though it was proper to go into mourning, and she retired to the country which was the respectable thing to do, not a single tear was shed for the man who had married her when she was but fifteen and he was five and thirty. The former Earl of Bentley was a cold, cruel man, and as horrible as it may be to admit, which she never did to anyone, she was glad to be rid of him. Only one good thing came from their marriage and that was Madeline, their daughter.

  If only the secrets could have been buried with him. Secrets that she’d become aware of when Madeline was only fourteen. The secret that his second wife, Adele, was not dead, but very much alive, living in Paris with Bentley’s first daughter, Julia. Rose had kept that secret because of the shame it would bring her daughter. She didn’t care so much about society learning that her marriage wasn’t valid, but she’d not stand by as the ton painted her daughter, Madeline, a bastard.

  It all worked out in the end, however, for Madeline had fallen in love and married Lachlan Grant, Marquess of Brachton. Before the two ever exchanged vows, Brachton had known the truth, and accepted Madeline as his wife, not giving a fig about the circumstances of her birth. That was all Rose had ever wanted – for her daughter to be settled and content.

  She glanced to her left, and at the young woman she’d birthed so many years ago. Her very own joy and bliss in a nightmare of a marriage. From the first moment she’d held her daughter, Rose finally understood why a wife endured her husband’s attention when required because the end reward of a beautiful child was well worth the price.

  By the next spring, Adele had been located, as had Julia. The family soon discovered that the reason Adele had run away in the first place before Bentley sent her to Paris, was because she was expecting another child and refused to have it raised near the father. Having known Bentley and his quick temper and preference for the switch, Rose could not blame the woman for risking life and limb to be away from the man. Had she been older and more secure, she might have had the strength to do the same. Unfortunately, fear guided Rose’s actions and responses most of the time since she’d grown up in a home similar to the one Bentley ran. Rose learned at a very young age that it was best to remain out of sight when her father, and later her husband, was in a temper and did her best to protect those younger than she. The moment her husband had taken his last breath was the moment she fully relaxed for the first time in her life. It was probably no different than what a man felt upon stepping outside of prison after many long years.

  The pregnancy Adele successfully hid from Bentley was that of twins, Hélène and Geneviève, the bride. Rose had grown closest to Geneviève. But, none of them needed her now. They had lives and husbands to watch after them and Rose had nobody of her own. Which was well and good, she supposed, as she had no need for a husband as Clayton had seen that she was financially secure. But, what was her purpose to be now? What was to become of her if she had no one to mother?

  Perhaps it was good that she and Ada, Dowager Viscountess Acker, were taking a trip in the morning. They’d originally intended to depart for the Caribbean six weeks ago, along with Geneviève, but her stepdaughter’s betrothal halted those plans. Ada still insisted on traveling and thought a holiday in Edinburgh would not be remiss and Rose’s family was in full agreement. So, tomorrow she would depart on a ship provided by her newest son-in-law. Perhaps it was exactly what she needed at this moment. Her life had always been guided by others. From her father telling her what to do, then a cruel husband, and then her concern for her children. This was the first time in her life that she was able to do something for herself without fear of consequences.

  Rose lifted her chin and smiled. Juliette and Hélène stood beside the bride, while John and Brachton served as witnesses beside Bridges. This chapter of her life might be closing, and an adventure was exactly what she needed. She was free and there was no reason why she couldn’t be happy too. Her smile grew broader. She was a widow with means, no need for a gentleman, and at that moment, Rose decided she was going to finally enjoy herself to the fullest extent.

  Historical Romances by Jane Charles

  The Tenacious Trents

  Compromised for Christmas

  A Misguided Lord

  A Perfect Gentleman

  A Lass for Christmas

  A Reluctant Rake