Free Whisper of Scandal by Nicola Cornick

shadows. For a moment Alex felt dazzled, as though he was looking directly into the sun. It was odd, he thought, for his overriding impression of Joanna had from the start been one of cool superficiality and self-containment and yet now she was all warmth and charm. It was like watching a different woman. She was shaking Mr Churchward’s hand and smiling in genuine pleasure to see the lawyer and her brittle façade was quite gone, replaced by a sincerity that seemed entirely genuine.
    This morning Joanna was dressed in a primrose silk morning gown with a matching spencer trimmed with black lace. A delicious little hat sat on her upswept chestnut curls. She looked breathtakingly pretty, very young and disconcertingly innocent. It was a smart, stylish, expensive outfit, neat as a pin and yet somehow subtly seductive. Alex, unversed and uninterested in fashion, had not the least idea why the sight of so apparently respectable a gown should have precisely the reverse effect on him and make him feel distinctly unrespectable. It covered all of Joanna from neck totoe and it made him want to uncover her, preferably immediately and in intensive detail. He shifted slightly.
    “I am surprised to see that your dog can move,” he said as the terrier trotted into the office in Joanna’s wake, the yellow ribbon in its topknot complementing her yellow silk perfectly. “I hope he has not found the exercise of walking from your carriage too onerous.”
    Joanna turned. Her violet-blue eyes fixed on Alex and she did not look pleased to see him. Her luscious mouth tightened into a deeply disapproving bow, which contrarily Alex found extremely attractive.
    “My dog’s name is Max,” she said, “and he is a border terrier and as such perfectly capable of vigorous activity. He simply chooses not to exert himself.” The dog, as though to make the point, graciously accepted a biscuit Mr. Churchward had taken from his drawer, curled up neatly in a patch of sunlight on the floor and went to sleep.
    “Mr. Churchward did not tell me that you would be here,” Joanna added. “I was not expecting to see you.”
    “I was not expecting to be here,” Alex said as he held her chair for her. “So both of us are disappointed.” He shrugged, turning to the lawyer. “As Lady Joanna has finally deigned to grace us with her presence,” he said, “shall we commence?”
    “Thank you, my lord,” Mr. Churchward said frostily. He fidgeted a little with his papers and settled his glasses more firmly on his nose. “Madam…” His voice quivered a little and Alex realized that he was laboring under a strong emotion, “may I first say how sorry, how very sorry I am to be the bearer of yet more bad news in relation to your husband’s death. When we met a yearago to discuss the distressing terms of his will—” He broke off and shook his head. “It pains me greatly,” he added, “to bring yet more trouble upon you.”
    “Dear Mr. Churchward—” there was more warmth in Joanna’s tone than Alex had ever heard from her before “—I fear you are making me nervous!” She smiled reassuringly at the lawyer though Alex thought there was an edge of anxiety beneath her assumption of ease. “You cannot be held responsible in any way for my late husband’s behavior,” Joanna said. “Pray do not concern yourself.”
    Looking from Joanna’s composed features to Mr. Churchward’s anguished ones, Alex wondered for the first time about the depositions of David Ware’s will and about the codicil, that very document that he had carried back all the way from the Arctic at Ware’s behest. He had assumed that his late comrade had left his not-inconsiderable fortune to Lady Joanna to allow her to continue to live in the lavish style to which she was clearly accustomed. That would surely have been in keeping with Ware’s character, with his honor and his sense of duty. But now, looking at the lawyer’s gloomy face—and remembering Ware’s venom toward