Free Rules of Murder by Julianna Deering Page B

he kept that promise until he died.”
    “And Mother never forgave him, I suppose,” Drew said.
    “You’re wrong there. She did forgive him. He let the rest of us run the business more and more after that and spent more time with her. She told me later that it was like a honeymoon all over again, even better than the first.”
    “That seems little enough for her to pay blackmail on all this time. Granted, it wouldn’t be good for the company if it got out, but it was years ago. I can’t imagine—”
    “There’s more.”
    Drew didn’t like the look on Mason’s face. “More?”
    “Three or four months after your father’s return, he got a letter from Paris, from the girl in the shop.”
    “I suppose it was the rest of the old story, then.” Drew turned up one side of his mouth. “She was going to have a child. And wanted money.”
    “Not just a child, Drew,” Mason said slowly. “You.”

Six
    A long with breakfast, Anna brought Madeline the news that Constance was dead. Unable to choke down more than a bite of toast and a few sips of hot coffee, Madeline got out of bed, threw on a suitably somber dress, and went to find Uncle Mason. As she headed down the front stairway, she saw Drew cross the marble floor of the entry hall and start up the stairs. He hadn’t seen her yet.
    “Drew,” she called, keeping her voice low.
    He glanced up at her and just as quickly away.
    She called again and then hurried down to him.
    “Hullo,” he said, sounding a bit dazed.
    She took both of his hands, wishing she could take him into her arms. “I’m so sorry. It must be such a shock about your mother.”
    She was surprised by the cynical smile that touched his lips.
    “Yes. Yes, it is.”
    He said nothing more, and for a moment she could think of nothing else to say.
    “Is Uncle Mason in his study?” she asked finally, and Drew nodded.
    “But the chief inspector is with him. I don’t think they’d let you see him at the moment.”
    Poor Uncle Mason. He must be heartbroken.
    She looked up into Drew’s eyes, but they refused to reveal anything.
    “Is he . . . Is he all right, Drew? This has to be terrible for him. For both of you.”
    “I suppose it is terrible. I’m a bit stunned myself. Things are never quite as they seem.”
    Puzzled, she waited for him to go on, hoped he would, but he did not.
    “Just going to look in on the newborns,” he told her, not quite meeting her eyes.
    “I’d love to see them,” she said, “if you don’t think that would upset Minerva too much.”
    “She’s always trusted me, and Nick bribes her with sausages, so I think she wouldn’t mind letting us peep in on her.”
    She went with him back up the stairs and down the hall to his dressing room.
    Minerva, a small tabby cat with very large green eyes, lay at the bottom of the cupboard, still nestled in Drew’s navy cheviot trousers. Her five kittens, their bellies round with milk, slept against her. Two of them were tabby-striped like their mother, two were marmalade, and one was, at present, almost entirely pink through its fine white fur.
    “Oh, they’re such little darlings,” Madeline whispered, and Minerva responded with a slow, smug blink of her eyes, as if it were obvious that nothing less was to be expected.
    Drew sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the little family. “It goes on, doesn’t it? Life? Look at this little blind fellow,” he said, pointing out the pink one. “Before long, he’ll be snow-white. ‘Lord, we know what we are, but know not what wemay be.’” He smiled again, that cynical little half smile. “And sometimes we don’t even know what we are.”
    She got down on the floor beside him, curling her legs under herself and slipping her arm through his, wanting somehow to comfort him.
    “Life does go on,” she said. “Even when it’s hard.”
    “There’s a mixed blessing.”
    After another moment of silence, she turned to him once more. “Drew?”
    He seemed lost in