Free The Elusive Wife by Callie Hutton Page A

heard about it.
    Drat, this was supposed to be a simple matter!

    Jason felt uncomfortable as he walked into the countess’s bed chamber, where he assumed she had slept while in residence. If she’d already been gone for some time, then she hadn’t been here very long at all, only a couple of weeks.
    The smell of lavender still hung in the air. He didn’t remember that scent from his wedding, but then his memory of the event was nil. Jason opened drawers and closets, finding nothing, almost as if the whole encounter had been a dream. He didn’t remember her and nothing of hers remained here. Except the scent of lavender.
    He gazed around the room trying desperately to remember something that might help find her. He grimaced. Asking the staff what she looked like was beyond the pale, even for him. After taking one more glance at the deserted room, he left.
    Breakfast the next morning filled him with guilt. Lady Coventry had suffered this silence and neglect every day after he left her until she departed. What did she think about? Did she hate him, or not care one way or the other? Did he hurt her, or was she only too happy to have the title and money, and no husband to foist his attentions on her? Although, according to his solicitors, she hadn’t requested anything. Which led him to believe she must be residing in London with someone of means.

    Jason’s concentration on the column of numbers he attempted to reconcile was broken by a light tap on the library door. Mrs. Watkins entered at his bid. Jason replaced his pen in the holder, and greeted the housekeeper.
    “My lord, will you be wanting dinner at the usual time, or should I send a tray in here when you’re ready?”
    “A tray in here will be fine, Mrs. Watkins. Shall we say around six o’clock?”
    “As you wish, my lord.” She turned to go, and then Jason called her back.
    “Mrs. Watkins, ah, how did Lady Coventry get on while she was here?”
    “Oh, my lord, we are all so fond of her ladyship.” The older woman’s eyes glowed. “Truly a ray of sunshine. The tenants loved her as well.”
    “The tenants?” His eyebrows rose inquiringly.
    “Yes, my lord. She fancied going to the tenants and bringing some of Cook’s breads and sweets for the little ones. They all loved her.” She put her hands to her chest and sighed. “And the music! Oh, could she make music!”
    “Music?” He was beginning to sound like a goddamn parrot.
    “Her ladyship is a wonderful pianist, my lord. When she played, we would all stop to listen. It brought me to tears most times.” The woman wiped her eyes.
    “But the pianoforte hasn’t been tuned in years.” He frowned.
    “Oh, my lord, she tuned it herself. And she played like an angel.”
    Feeling decidedly uncomfortable with this turn of events, he nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Watkins. That will be all.”
    She inclined her head and left the room.
    So her ladyship had captivated the tenants and staff? And everyone just loved her? Then why the deuce didn’t she stay put so he could get to know this paragon? No, she went traipsing off to London, staying heaven knows where, and now he had to chase her down like a dog on the hunt.

    Three days later Jason felt confident enough in his dealings with his estate manager and the books they had gone over together to make the trip back to London. Even though he had given his staff enough leeway to discuss the missing Lady Coventry, the only thing he got for his trouble was the image of a beautiful, quiet, sensitive woman who caught the affection of everyone she encountered. And, of course, the delightful music no one failed to mention. Then he snorted, remembering the young buck who had called yesterday.
    Jason had been busy at his desk when Malcolm entered the library.
    “My lord, there is someone here asking after her ladyship.”
    Jason looked up sharply and rolled the pen in his hand between two fingers. “Indeed. Who is the caller?”
    Malcolm presented him with a calling