Free Quick, Amanda by With This Ring Page A

already suffered enough tonight."
    She surveyed the raw, red crease, relieved to note that it was superficial. "I have seen one or two bullet
    wounds." "You appear to have led an adventurous life, Mrs. Poole."
    "They were the result of hunting accidents. Such injuries can be quite nasty. But in this case the ball
    appears to have merely grazed you on its way past. Had it struck you a couple of inches lower-"
    "I had some warning." He turned his head to examine his shoulder. "I told you it was not serious."
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    "Any injury such as this can become serious if it is not properly attended."
    Finch loomed in the doorway. "The fresh linen and water you requested, madam."
    "Bring them here, please. Then you may fetch his lordship a clean shirt."
    "Yes, madam." Finch set the tray down on a table and hurried away once more.
    "Poor Finch," Leo muttered. "I fear he'll never be the man he once was. You have quite vanquished him,
    Mrs. Poole."
    "Nonsense. He is simply displaying common sense, which is more than I can say for you, sir."
    Beatrice put aside the scissors and reached for the brandy decanter.
    Leo looked grimly amused. "Do you need to fortify yourself for the task, Mrs. Poole?"
    "I do not intend to drink the stuff, sir. Brace yourself." She poured the spirits into the open wound before
    he guessed her intention.
    Leo sucked in his breath. "Damnation. Waste of good brandy."
    "My mother believes very strongly in the value of cleansing wounds with stout spirits." Beatrice set the
    bottle aside. "She got the idea from one of the books in my father's library. "
    "Where do your parents live?"
    "They have retired to a pleasant little cottage in Hampshire. Papa has his books and his rose garden.
    Mama has organized a school for the local village children. She is a great believer in the value of an
    education."
    "Tell me, Mrs. Poole, are your parents aware that you interest yourself in such pastimes as investigating
    murders and searching for dangerous antiquities?"
    "I have not as yet had an opportunity to write to them about my current project." Beatrice trimmed the
    linen bandage. "But I shall get around to it after I have resolved the matter."
    "I see." He watched morosely as she tied the ends of the linen. "Will they be surprised to learn of your
    activities?" "I'm sure they will understand that under the circumstances I had no choice but to search out
    Uncle Reggie's murderer and recover Arabella's inheritance."
    "Naturally. All in a day's work for a reader of horrid novels, eh, Mrs. Poole?"
    "One does what one must."
    Leo grunted and took a mouthful of brandy. "How long have you been a widow, Mrs. Poole?"
    She was startled by the question. Then she realized that Leo was no doubt attempting to focus his
    attention on something other than the pain of his wound.
    "I was married for three years, sir. I have been widowed for five."
    "At what age were you wed?"
    "One-and-twenty."
    "So you are now twenty-nine?"
    "Yes." She wondered where this was all going.
    "Damn near thirty."
    "Indeed, sir." She tugged very firmly on the bandage. He gritted his teeth and took another swallow of
    brandy.
    "Any desire to remarry?"
    "None." Beatrice smiled coolly. "Once a woman has known the metaphysical perfection of the most
    harmonious union possible between a man and a woman, once she has
    tasted the ambrosia of physical, spiritual, and intellectual communication with her true soul mate, she can
    never be content with anything less."
    "That good, was it? "
    "It was perfection, my lord."
    "Until your husband died," he pointed out.
    "Perfection can never last. But one goes on with life knowing that one has been privileged to love, as few
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    people ever are." She paused briefly in the process of adjusting the bandage. "I feel certain that you
    understand. I have heard that your own marriage was also