Blue Murder (Lord and Lady Hetheridge Mystery Series Book 2) by Emma Jameson

Author:Emma Jameson [Jameson, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Cozy, Fiction
Publisher: Lyonnesse Books
Published: 2013-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

As Kate elbowed her way into the thick of the guests, earning a sharp "I say!" from a stooped man with a red nose, she at last caught sight of Sir Duncan Godington—blond hair, high cheekbones and sensuous mouth. He looked like a fairer, masculine edition of his lovely half-sister—and, yes, a bit like James Bond, especially in evening dress. But Bond, at least in Kate's imagination, possessed the dispassionate stare of a professional killer. Sir Duncan, caught in a knot of stylishly disheveled young people, had gentle, even humorous eyes. As Kate watched, Sir Duncan smiled at the slender brunette before him.

Oh, yes. Sir Duncan had two smiles, Kate knew. One was famous—that sharklike grin that bared every possible tooth. The tabloids loved to pair that grin with captions like, "Sir Dunc Shows His Fangs!" But Sir Duncan's other smile was tender, both masculine and sweetly sympathetic. A smile that made many women think of a frilly white wedding dress and a crotchless black teddy, both at the same time.

But not me, Kate told herself. Never fancied the rich blokes. Cinderella snags a toff with hands softer than hers? That story always made me want to puke ...

Suddenly, she cut off that line of thought, no longer certain it was true. Discovering Hetheridge could dance had been such a welcome surprise. And hearing him introduce her with obvious pride had made her blush like a schoolgirl.

Kate glanced back the way she'd come, but Hetheridge wasn't there. He'd faded away from the dance floor, no doubt to avoid Sir Duncan's line of sight.

It's not like Tony lives off his cash, hunting foxes all day like skeevy old Roderick, Kate told herself. And as for his hands, they certainly aren't softer than …

A familiar voice cut through her reverie. "Of course I don't mind if a police officer is here. I'm having a lovely time. Perfectly at ease."

Elbowing past another knot of guests, Kate pushed forward until she saw the face of the slender brunette in that shimmering white gown. Yes. It was Kyla Sloane.

She looked beautiful, and even more like Tessa Chilcott than Kate remembered. Kyla's long, dark hair was sleek and perfect. Like Tessa, Kyla was fragile-looking, almost too thin in her glittery sheath. Though she sounded cool and intelligent, there was something brittle about the girl, especially with Sir Duncan towering over her.

"It means a great deal to Izzie and I, having you here," Sir Duncan was saying. "Don't feel obliged to hide yourself away. You've done nothing wrong."

"I know. But sometimes I feel like the perception of guilt is as damning as the reality," Kyla said. She held a toffee appletini in her hands. The glass looked sweaty, its contents untouched.

"Only to the rabbit-hearted." Sir Duncan's smile reappeared. "You are made of sterner stuff, my girl."

"Does the way he fawns over her make you want to puke?" someone asked near Kate's ear.

Kate turned, surprised to see a male after hearing those chirpish tones. A young man of about Kyla's age stood beside her.

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