Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] Read Free Page A

hid the empty grate. He sat down, relieved beyond reason.
    These days his life was equal parts a search for justice and the burden of sorrow, with only the children for relief from his dark thoughts.
    Settling into the comfort of the velvet-covered chair, Meryon stared at the embroidered fire screen and did his best to make his mind a blank.
    Minutes passed in a haze of memories that he pushed out of his mind as soon as they appeared. His brothers’ silence, knowing no words that could console him. His sister’s sadness even once she was beyond tears. Michael Garrett’s words, so atypical of the vicar he was: “God is a puzzle to me in this and faith is a weak comfort.”
    The children. He curled his hand into a tight fist. Rexton’s constant “Where is Mama?” despite being content enough with his nurse. Alicia’s crying as though she knew Mama was gone, inconsolable for days.
    All those months in France had done no more than delay a grief that he had been unwilling to face. He’d filled his days with artists, diplomats, government officials, and the occasional visit to the demimonde of Paris.
    Tonight proved that time and distance had not enabled him to forget what he’d lost.
Rowena
.
    Do not think of her. Do not let the memories in
. Even as he commanded it, he remembered one night: Rowena wearing her favorite golden evening frock, asking him to be sure that her glorious pearl necklace was fastened securely.
    Burying the memories, he crushed them into a tight ball that settled near the stone-cold place he called his heart.
    Meryon stood up. He would find Letty Harbison, give her his thanks, go home to Penn House. The children would already be abed but he could work on his bill for Parliament. He should start on the wording, list those likely to support it, and examine the calendar for a likely opening for the first reading.
    He would also see what his secretary had unearthed about Bendas and if John Coachman had anything to report after this week of spying on the old fool.
    When he was halfway to the door, someone opened it from the other side. Stepping close to the wall, out of sight, Meryon remained perfectly still, annoyed that even here he could not find privacy.
    Surely they will not stay when they see a dark room. Unless it’s a couple looking for a quiet spot
.
    Meryon had grown used to the dark. He could see well enough to make out the furniture, if not any details. He searched for another door.
    He’d sat near the fireplace and saw no door on that wall. Facing the fireplace, he identified a settee. A game table and chairs filled the other half of the room. He saw no door on that wall either.
    If it was a couple fumbling with the door latch between kisses, he would have the upper hand. No one wanted that kind of gossip spread.
    He waited, curious, impatient, and just a little amused to see who had found his hiding place.
    A woman came in, alone. Her fragrance announced her presence, roses with a hint of musk beneath, more alluring than sophisticated.
    She wore a gown of gray taffeta with an iridescent quality that caused it to glimmer in the light from the passage. A Juno rather than a fairy, the upswept hair emphasized her height. He could not see her face but wondered if it was as fine as her figure.
    Elegant came to mind first.
    Distraught second.
    She remained silent, her breathing ragged, the very air between them filled with her distress. She closed the door and leaned against it, staring at the floor.
    “Oh, Edward.” She breathed the name, then stumbled to the settee that faced the fireplace, not more than six feet from where he stood.
    She sat down, covered her face with her hands, and began to sob. Not quiet tears, but the kind that railed against fate. Lyn completely understood her barely suppressed scream of desperation.
    He recognized grief, especially a woman’s grief. She had lost a lover or a husband, perhaps not to death but lost as surely as if he had died. Each uneven breath drew