Free Marry the Man Today by Linda Needham Page A

doing a bad job of hiding her discomfort behind a placid smile.
    "What makes you think I know Lady Wallace?"
    "Because you own the Abigail Adams, my dear, and she was a member in good standing until yesterday morning when she vanished from the face of the earth."
    She shrugged a shoulder lightly. "So?"
    "So, you withheld information from me. From Scotland Yard, from the Lord Mayor. I don't like that."
    "And I don't like your tone. Are you accusing me of some nefarious crime?"
    Of being the most cunning woman he'd ever met. Along with the most beautiful.
    But he could hardly accuse her of that.
    "My dear Miss Dunaway, since I've been asked by the Lord Mayor to investigate the disappearance of Lady Wallace, it's my duty to follow up on all clues. I've seen the hat shop where she disappeared. I've inspected the evidence found at the scene."
    "And now you're here to investigate me?" Her soft brows lifted toward her heart-shaped hairline. "Don't you think you should be investigating Lord Wallace? After all, his wife has been abducted."
    "I'll ask the questions. You merely have to answer them to my satisfaction."
    "Why? You're not a policeman. You're not from the press. Why should I have to answer your questions?"
    Because he was so deeply buried in the secret affairs of the government that he'd never be free.
    "Let's just say that I'm lending my military investigative skills to the City of London."
    "What's a soldier doing investigating an abduction on Regent Street?"
    "I'm a sailor, madam. A commandant in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, on loan to the Foreign Office. And, as such, I do whatever I'm asked to do by Her Majesty's ministers."
    "Stranded here on dry land. How sad for you." She laughed lightly, as though protected from his office by the marble walls of the Abigail Adams. "But I can assure you, my lord commandant, I can't help you. Now if you'll excus e —"
    "I can interrogate you here in the foyer, madam, or in a private office. Or if you prefer it, we can take a trip back to Scotland Yard, where, I can assure you, if the press finds you this time, they won't be interested in your thoughts on women's rights."
    She glared at him, then gave another irritated huff and stomped past him. "Very well, my lord. I'll give you five minutes."
    Or as many as he cared to take.
    He followed her lightly flouncing skirts through the foyer and into what must surely be the club room. Much like the club room at the Huntsman, only more delicately fashioned: with tall windows draped in go l d-tasse l ed brocade, sheered lightly with laced curtains. A half-dozen rose-strewn wool carpets covered the polished wooden floor, with pairs of floral upholstered chairs, elegant legged tea tables. Portraits of powerful women, Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth, the inimitable Abigail Adams above the marble mantel.
    "The club room, I assume," he said as she waited for him at the door on the opposite wall.
    "We do all our club business here." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Where we vote on important issues of the day, such as Darjeeling versus China black for the tea room. Red petunias for the urns in the drive up, or pink."
    If she wanted a piggish attitude, she could have one. "The gentlemen of the Huntsman talk about similar things. Reform Act, or no? War with Russia, or not?"
    "Single malt, or blended. Ah, the important issues of powerful men ..." She gestured into the smaller room beyond. "In here, my lord, though I know little enough about your investigation. I'm sure you'll be disappointed."
    Alone, in a small room, with the beautiful Miss Dunaway and her flashing eyes? Disappointment was impossible.
    "I'll wager that you know more than you think you do, madam. Clues often hide themselves in the midst of the faintest memories."
    "I have an excellent memory." She snorted lightly as she went directly to a large tidy desk, a daringly intimate sound between them.
    "I'm sure you do." He was positive, in fact. "Have you ever met Lord Wallace?"
    She frowned