Free Marry the Man Today by Linda Needham Page B

and pulled open the knee drawer. "Once. Have you?"
    "Not yet." Though he planned to as soon as possible.
    " When you do, be sure to ask him where he stashed the body."
    "Body?" Ross tried to look nonchalant as he perched on the edge of the desk.
    "Husbands kill their wives all the time, my lord." She sat down in the wooden desk chair and leaned back.
    "Is that so?" Though he already knew that the sorry statistic was true.
    "A wife gets in the husband's way, makes a few too many demands on his time or his money, starts forming thoughts of her own, and off she goes to the country, or to her aunt's, or to their villa in Spain, never to be seen again. Who would ever know if a man killed his wife in a fit of anger and buried the body in the stall of his favorite racehorse?"
    "You have a very pessimistic view of marriage."
    "A practical view of the facts as I see them."
    "Murderous husbands and annoying wives, madam?" Damnation, he liked the outlandish, unafraid byways of her mind. He nearly laughed. "Do you mean to say that you suspect Lord Wallace of kidnapping his own wife and then doing away with the evidence of her murder?"
    She raised her shoulders and tented her fingers, judge and jury all rolled into a single efficient package. "Just that I've heard gossip in the tea room."
    "What kind of gossip, madam?" At times it was far more reliable than direct evidence. At least as a jumping off point. Smoke and fire and all that.
    "That his lordship has the temper of a grizzly." She shrugged. "I can just imagine your interview with him, if you should decide to speak with him."
    "Can you, now?"
    "He'll be very dramatic. Declare undying love for his dear, devoted wife. Demand that you find her immediately, before scandal erupts and he finds himself embarrassed in the press and in Parliament."
    "No comment, madam." Because God only knew what she would do if he confirmed his own suspicions. Take up an investigation on her own, or with her little gang. "Now, the sooner you answer a few of my questions about Lady Wallace herself, the sooner I'll be off your property and out of your life."
    A thought that stopped him cold in his tracks. He liked standing here in her presence. She filled him up with something raw and exciting.
    Made him want to kiss her soundly. Just to see what she would do or say.
    "Go right ahead, my lord."
    Bloody hell! Had he spoken aloud?
    "Right ahead and . . . ?" He trailed off, hoping the woman would fill in the sudden blank spot in his brain.
    "Go ahead and ask your questions, sir."
    A h , that. "Yes, yes. Uh m ..." He cast about for the subject and recalled that someone's wife had gone missing. "Lady Wallace!"
    "What about her? And hurry please. I have a class to prepare for."
    "Are you studying for a class?"
    "I'm teaching one. Is that your question?"
    "Not quite." Completely off track now, Ross yanked his notepad out of his jacket pocket and flipped through to the scribble of notes he'd taken so far. He cleared his throat and turned away. "When exactly did Lady Wallace become a member' of the Abigail Adams?"
    "Exactly?" She considered the question for a moment, focusing on his mouth and then his eyes, before breathing out a sigh. "I suppose I have that here somewhere."
    By the looks of the office, the woman doubtless could put her finger on the least important piece of information in the blink of an eye.
    "Of course, she couldn't have been with us very long. The club's only been open since February."
    "How often did she come?"
    "If I recall correctly, two or three times a week at the beginning." She went to a bank of file boxes lined up neatly on the ta l l bookshelves against the wall, scanned the labels, pulled down a box and went back to the desk with it.
    "And after that?"
    She looked up at him from across the desk as she propped open the box lid. "Well, as you can imagine, his lordship didn't approve."
    Ross decided to stay put on the edge of the desk instead of standing at her side and blatantly staring at