A Lady Never Surrenders Read Free Page B

a letter there asking him questions concerning the house party. Until I get responses, I should stay close to town rather than returning to Manchester on a probable wild-goose chase.” He glanced to the marquess. “With your lordship’s approval.”
    “Whatever you think is best,” Stoneville murmured. “Just keep us apprised.”
    “Of course.”
    Taking that for a dismissal, Jackson headed out the door. He had another appointment this afternoon, and he had to stop at home to pick up the report his aunt was transcribing. Only she could transform his scribbles into legible, intelligible prose. If he left now, he might have time to eat before—
    “Mr. Pinter!”
    He turned to find Lady Celia approaching. “Yes, my lady?”
    To his surprise, she glanced nervously at the open door to the library and lowered her voice. “I must speak to you privately. Do you have a moment?”
    He ruthlessly suppressed the leap in his pulse. Lady Celia had never asked to talk to him alone. The singularity of that made him nod curtly and gesture to a nearby parlor.
    She preceded him, then stood looking about her with uncharacteristic anxiousness as he entered and left the door open, wanting no one to accuse him of impropriety.
    “What is it?” he asked, trying not to sound impatient. Or intrigued. He’d never seen Lady Celia looking unsure of herself. It tugged annoyingly at his sympathies.
    “I had a dream last night. That is, I’m not sure if it actually was a dream. I mean, of course it was a dream, but…”
    “What’s your point, madam?”
    Her chin came up, and a familiar martial light entered her gaze. “There’s no need to be rude, Mr. Pinter.”
    He couldn’t help it; being this close to her was doing uncomfortable things to him. He could smell her perfume, a tempting mix of … whatever flowery things noblewomen wore to enhance their charms.
    Her charms needed no enhancement.
    “Forgive me,” he bit out. “I’m in a hurry to return to town.”
    She nodded, taking his excuse at face value. “Last night I had a dream that I often had as a child. I don’t know if it was because we’d been working in the nursery, or Annabel and Maria were discussing…” When he raised his eyebrow, she steadied her shoulders. “Anyway, when I used to have it, it seemed unreal, so I assumed it was only a dream, but now…” She swallowed. “I think it might also be a memory of the day my parents died.”
    That caught his attention. “But you were only four.”
    “A few weeks shy of five, actually.”
    Right. She was twenty-four now, and the murders had happened nineteen years ago last April. “What makes you think it’s a memory?”
    “Because I heard Papa making an assignation with a woman to meet her at the hunting lodge.”
    A chill coursed down his spine.
    “In the dream, I assume it’s Mama, but even there she doesn’t behave right.”
    “In what way?”
    “Papa used to call Mama ‘ mia dolce bellezza ,’ and she would blush and tell him he was blind. Well, in the dream the man called the woman ‘ mia dolce bellezza ,’ and she got angry. She told him she hated it when he did that. Don’t you see? She probably resented being called the same thing he called his wife.”
    “I don’t suppose you could tell who she was from the voice.”
    She sighed. “Unfortunately, they were both whispering. I only know it was Papa because of the ‘ mia dolce bellezza. ’ ”
    “I see.”
    “If it really happened, it means Mama somehow found out about Papa’s assignation. That’s why she asked Benny not to tell Papa where she was going. Because she wanted to catch him and his mistress in the act. And whoever Papa was going there to meet arrived first and shot Mama.”
    “Then when your father showed up, she shot him, too?” he said skeptically. “Now that she’d ensured that her lover was free to marry her?”
    Lady Celia’s expression turned uncertain. “Perhaps Papa was angry that she’d killed Mama. Perhaps