A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) Read Free

appreciate his lack of attention to her when she was attempting to ensure they both had a pleasant time.
                  He gave his low, self-deprecating laugh, “I’m so sorry, my dear. I’m being a boor, I know. It is just that this is the same route that I took travelling to West Wimpleford last year and being in the same vicinity is provoking memories, not all of which are happy ones, I fear.”
                  She was confused by this admission, for in her estimation the town should have no unpleasant associations. As far as she knew Underwood had successfully solved the mystery of Miss Greenhowe’s missing diamonds and had, in doing so, released the man charged with stealing them from his convict status in Australia.
                  As soon as he observed her puzzled expression, Underwood realized that he had made an error in voicing his unhappiness. At the time he had, of necessity, kept the worst aspects of his adventures from his loving wife. She did not know that he suspected that he had been fed poisoned tea – he could not be sure because it transpired that he had already been dosed with arsenic in Hanbury a few days before, but nevertheless he had been exceedingly ill. What was not in doubt was the attempt on his life by a highwayman who had aimed his flintlock pistol directly at Underwood and ordered him out of the stagecoach. It was at this point that Underwood’s life had been saved by a mysterious widow, who had shot the brigand before he had time to injure the shocked Underwood. This had all been kept from Verity for her own peace of mind, but now, by his own stupid introspection, Underwood had very nearly given the game away.
                  He had two choices. He could confess all to his wife, but in doing so he would have to admit that he had deceived her in the first place and had then maintained that deception – not a particularly promising beginning to their time away from home. Or he could find some way to convince her that he was bothered by the journey for some other reason. In the end it was this option which he decided was the least troublesome.
                  “I refer, of course, to the annoyance of never having discovered the identity of the young widow I told you about, whom I met on the stagecoach, but who disappeared into the crowds with her maidservant before I could discover her name.”
                  “But the trouble is, my dear, you never really did tell me about her. Why is she of such interest to you? Was she so very beautiful? Did you ...” she faltered, reluctant to voice the suspicions which beset her, but then she squared her shoulders and resolved to go on with her questions, determined to have the matter aired once and for all. If Underwood had misbehaved, she felt she would rather know about it and then decide what she intended to do with the knowledge.
                  “Did I what?” asked Underwood tensely, wondering if George Grattan or Jeremy James Thorneycroft had given away his secret and he was about to be treated to one of Verity’s rare but scathing reproaches.
                  “Did you have a flirtation with her?” asked Verity, the hint of distress hovering on the edge of her voice and tears gathering in her eyes, suddenly fearful that his actions had been rather more than merely flirtatious.
                  Underwood, immensely relieved that he had not been betrayed by his friends, laughed out loud, “Most certainly not. Whatever gave you that idea?”
                  Verity was cross that she had been mocked when she was feeling so very vulnerable, “I don’t see why you should find that so amusing,” she said tartly, “You have shown a remarkable degree of obsession for a woman whom you claim means nothing to you.”
                  “I’m not obsessed with the wretched woman,” he replied, aware that he had