The Marriage Truce. Ann Cree Elizabeth

was the day after tomorrow. There was still time.

      Dev returned from London in the early afternoon of the following day. Most of the house party had gone off on a picnic and Henslowe was closeted with his agent, which suited him. He had no desire to speak with anyone, not even Jessica.

      Not that he’d had a problem procuring the licence. He yanked off his leather gloves and tossed them on the dressing table. No, the damnable document was safe in his pocket. The document he’d never intended to see his name on again.

      He dropped his coat on the bed and paced to the window. The sun shone brightly, the hills rolling away. In the distance he caught a glimpse of Monteville House. His stomach lurched with a nervousness he had not felt for an age.