The Enigma of a Widow by Linda Rae Sande

Author:Linda Rae Sande
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 15

Deductive Reasoning Returns

Meanwhile ...

Adonis paused his horse at the end of Bruton Street, half-tempted to turn back and beg for shelter from the rain. He gave a glance back to watch Lydia as she made her way into her townhouse, rather surprised at how his body reacted.

I’ve been too long without a woman, he reasoned at first, and then decided he was merely lying to himself. He had recognized his attraction to Lydia the moment he approached her in the museum. The moment he said the words that had him wincing and that immediately put her on the defensive.

I’ve been told I look exactly like him.

Or perhaps it was merely because he was standing so close to her. Close enough to sniff her perfume. Close enough to notice the soft curls at the back of her neck, and the whorl of her ear beneath her hat. Her perfect posture. Her elegance.

She wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thought in dismay. He had imagined her a hag. Imagined her a prune-faced wretch. Imagined a shrew.

But she was none of those. Damn Jasper Barrymore. Damn him all to hell!

Well, he supposed his commander was already there. As many times as he had remembered that afternoon and night on the battlefield, Adonis felt as if he were there, too.

This afternoon’s outing had certainly changed his outlook, although something niggled at him. Made him wonder. Reminded him that he needed to study details, listen for tells, and watch for incongruities. If he had any hope of securing a real mission for the Foreign Office, he needed to prove he could still perform spy craft. It had been a year since his last mission, after all.

She lied to me.

Or did she?

Having spent the day watching her townhouse from a coach a few houses down from hers, Adonis knew Lydia hadn’t paid any calls—she hadn’t left the house the entire day—but someone had visited her.

This is most distressing, he considered as he allowed the Cleveland Bay to continue a slow walk, his thought of returning to her townhouse forgotten. He ignored the ever-increasing rain as he contemplated Lady Barrymore’s answer to his query.

Why would she lie to me?

When he had asked her if Oliver Preston was a friend, she failed to mention the man had paid a visit to her just that afternoon. The man was due to marry in a few days. Why ever would he pay a call on Jasper Barrymore’s widow unless they were friends?

He blinked, considering another alternative.

Lovers?

The thought nearly made him sick to his stomach. He had spent every night for four nights in her bedchamber, though, and on none of those occasions had she welcomed a visitor to her bed.

He shook his head, realizing he was allowing his imagination to get the better of him.

Tit for tat, I suppose, he considered then. He was sure she had caught his fib. The one where he claimed to have learned of the garden party from her. Or did I simply

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