Death Wears a Mask Read Free Page A

at all well,” Milo answered with a perfect ease. “We’ve met once or twice at social events.”
    â€œI was certain someone told me that the two of you were quite good friends.”
    An awkward silence descended like a veil over the table, and I felt suddenly cold. A sad sort of sinking feeling that I had not experienced as of late seemed to hit me squarely in my chest.
    It seemed Mr. Harker was the only one at this dinner unaware of the fact that this entire conversation was extremely uncomfortable for everyone, excepting perhaps Milo, who remained completely unruffled in the face of Mr. Harker’s clumsy interrogation.
    â€œI’m afraid you were misinformed,” he replied smoothly.
    â€œYes, but…”
    â€œThis crème anglaise is quite delicious,” Mrs. Vivian Garmond said suddenly. It was almost the first word I had heard her speak at the dinner table. So calm and natural was her delivery, however, that her deflection seemed the normal course of conversation.
    â€œYes, it’s wonderful,” Mrs. Douglas-Hughes put in. “The entire meal has been lovely.”
    Conversation ensued again as the guests sent their compliments to Mrs. Barrington’s chef, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. I had no wish to air out the difficulties of my marriage before a room full of strangers.
    Everyone went on as though nothing had happened, though I saw Lord Dunmore looking in my direction, a vague expression of amusement on his features.
    Mrs. Garmond was sitting directly across from me, and when she looked at me I thought I detected something like understanding in her expression.
    I was curious about Mrs. Garmond, for she did not seem to be on particularly friendly terms with any of our fellow guests, let alone our hostess. If anything, it seemed that Mrs. Barrington had avoided her throughout the evening. I had noticed, however, the way her dark eyes followed Lord Dunmore when he wasn’t looking. I could not help but wonder if there was some sort of connection between the two, although I had also noticed that the viscount had not glanced at her more than once or twice throughout the course of the meal.
    What Milo thought about the incident with Mr. Harker I didn’t know, for I studiously avoided his gaze. Though he was not technically responsible for my current embarrassment, it was not the first time his conduct had subjected me to a dreadfully uncomfortable moment, and I felt no inclination to be gracious in the face of Mr. Harker’s implications. I was all too aware of the plausibility of the story.
    As to the question of the true nature of his acquaintance with Mademoiselle Renault, that was something I didn’t care to ponder at the moment. There would be time enough for that particular discussion in the privacy of our home.
    I forced the issue from my mind, determined to think instead of Mrs. Barrington’s puzzling request that I observe her guests. As I wondered what could be so mysteriously noteworthy about someone seated at the dinner table, I had no way of knowing that Milo would soon be the least of my worries.
    *   *   *
    THE LAST COURSE finished, we stood to move back to the drawing room for coffee. Mrs. Barrington came to me as we entered the room, distress evident on her features, and spoke in a low voice. “You must forgive James his faux pas, Mrs. Ames. He’s always saying the wrong things.”
    â€œIt’s quite all right, Mrs. Barrington. You needn’t apologize.” The less said about it the better, in fact.
    She shook her head. “He doesn’t think before he speaks. It’s always been an unfortunate habit of his. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s a sweet boy, but so gauche at times. I’m sure he didn’t mean to imply that … I’m sure your husband isn’t … well, most of the time, James doesn’t even realize that he’s said anything