Leslie Lafoy Read Free Page B

with big, dark eyes. Big dark eyes that were bright with irritation. “You’re not taking this seriously, Mr. Stanbridge.”
    “My apologies,” he offered, sincere only in his intent to get the tale told before he was an old man. “Please continue. Three months ago you and your cousin were informed that you’d inherited buried pirate treasure.”
    With a nod, she added another bit to the slowly emerging picture, saying “Either Jean Lafitte was a deeply suspicious man or he enjoyed games. It’s not possible to tell which from the will. What is clear is that to claim the treasure, one has to follow a trail of clues to find it.”
    “You’re joking,” he accused before he could think better of it. The fire in her eyes instantly prompted him to add, “All right, you’re not. I gather the first clue is what brought you and Mignon to London.”
    Fixing her gaze on the center of his chest, she crisply went on. “As I said, the law firm in New Orleans has represented the family for generations. They know all the family secrets. As well as what’s common knowledge. Most notably, they know the kind of people we are. In what he no doubt considered an act worthy of Solomon, the family lawyer gave half the map to Mignon and half to me.”
    “A map,” he repeated, wondering how a seemingly rational woman could tell such a penny-dreadful tale with not only a straight face, but with apparent utter sincerity. “Does X mark the spot?”
    “Yes,” she replied, her voice tight, her eyes shooting daggers in the general vicinity of his heart. “Of the next clue.”
    God help him; he had to ask. “And the map is of London?”
    “I have no idea.” She paused to take a slow and dainty sip of her coffee. “Apparently Mignon thought so. She bolted with her half of the map. I had no choice but to chase after her, hoping to find and convince her that we stood a better chance of finding it if we worked together.”
    His mind clicked furiously along several strings of possibility. “And what did she say when you caught up to her and presented your argument?”
    Her complete attention shifted to the cup and saucer in her hands. Twisting the cup ever so slowly back and forth in the saucer’s indentation, she said quietly, “That she didn’t need me.”
    “Well,” Barrett drawled, “I must say that being denied buried treasure worth millions would be an excellent motive for murder.”
    She nodded, but didn’t look up. “It’s certainly a far better one than any they can fabricate for you.”
    Yes, indeed, it was. When the authorities finally got around to posing the right questions to the right people … “You’re in trouble, Mrs. Dandaneau.”
    Her gaze snapped up to his. The fire was gone, replaced by the glint of steely resolve. “No deeper than you are, Mr. Stanbridge.”
    “But eventually my name is going to be cleared,” he pointed out. “Especially when the authorities learn the reason for your cousin’s presence in London. And yours.”
    One delicately shaped brow inched upward. “Do you think they’ll believe—any more than you do—a story of a scavenger hunt for buried pirate treasure?”
    “Probably not,” he admitted, lifting his cup and saluting her with it. “Until they find Mignon’s half of the map.”
    “True,” she admitted as he sipped. “Which is going to be very interesting since you’re the one who has it.”
    Hot coffee and cold realization caught hard midway down his throat. If she was right …
    Isabella concluded that his coughing fit wasn’t life-threatening and waited for him to recover. Timing, she decided, was everything with Barrett Stanbridge. His coolly analytical—and slightly cynical—manner was fairly easy to knock off kilter if she tossed the right information at him at just the right moment. He didn’t strike her, however, as the sort of man who would let her get away with the tactic indefinitely. Intelligent and quick-witted, he’d soon come to anticipate the