Free Deadlier Than the Pen by Kathy Lynn Emerson Page A

situation. She had to go on. If she did not, her editor was desperate enough to create a sensational story that bore no resemblance to the truth. That was why he wanted to delay printing a first-person account of an attack on one of his own reporters. He had a bigger story in mind. A completely untrue story.

The corollary to her logic was that Damon Bathory was entirely innocent of any crime. That being the case, how could she be a party to a plot to defame his character? She had no choice but to go to Bathory, not to demand an interview, but to warn him what Foxe had planned.

In the light of a new day, even one that was a bit overcast, Diana managed to convince herself that Foxe's threat to fire her for insubordination was all bluster. She could always appeal to his sister. Under threat of Rowena's nagging, he'd surely relent, forgive Diana, and take her back into the fold.

With luck that might even happen before she became destitute.

No effort of will could quite shut out the memory of near starvation after Evan had left Toddy's company to strike out on his own -- and made a hash of it. They'd been down to their last two bits when he'd gotten into the poker game that had ended up costing him his life. Diana never had learned if he'd really been cheating. It had hardly mattered after he was shot by the disgruntled gambler who claimed he was.

Diana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Evan had not survived, but she had. If worse came to worst, she supposed she could always go on the stage. The fact that she had not an ounce of theatrical talent shouldn't hold her back. The lack of acting ability certainly had not stopped Lavinia Ross from pursuing her career.

Diana's vision of a future in which she successfully played miscellaneous maids and waiting women, the female equivalent of spear carriers, amused her enough to allow her to consume her usual hearty breakfast with good appetite. After she'd eaten, she set out for the Palace Hotel at a brisk pace, determined to get this meeting over with. She did not realize that she'd just passed Bathory, on the other side of the street and heading in the opposite direction, until he was a good distance beyond her. Apparently lost in thought, he'd taken no note of her, either.

Doubling back, Diana had almost caught up with him when he joined the cluster of parishioners entering Grace Church for morning worship. Diana followed the crowd, momentarily bemused by the notion that the man who wrote such demonic stories should attend Sunday services. Once inside, she spotted him easily, but there was no room for her in his pew. She settled into one near the back of the church, prepared to wait for the end of services to speak with him.

More than an hour later, Diana stepped out of Grace Church into an afternoon that was still overcast but not yet stormy. She positioned herself near the wrought iron fence to wait for Bathory to emerge.

He was easy to spot -- he was the only man not wearing a hat. Diana was about to call out to him when she saw him reach into the pocket of his coat and extract a small object. She had to bite back a gasp when she recognized her notebook, the one she'd lost in the alley.

Stunned, Diana ducked out of sight behind a large gentleman and his wife. Had she been wrong? Had Bathory been her attacker, after all? Had he stolen the notebook? Or gone back for it later?

Nonsense! She told herself she was imagining things. Hadn't she just reasoned everything out and decided she had nothing to fear from this man? He was not her attacker. He was the wrong shape. The man in the alley had been broader in the shoulders and much shorter than Bathory.

She hesitated too long. He left the churchyard heading away from his hotel. Her expression grim, Diana set out in his wake. She was no longer sure what she would do when she caught up with him, but following Damon Bathory seemed to have become a habit.
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*Chapter Five*

When Diana finally ran her quarry to