Free Love on Assignment by Cara Lynn James Page B

Charlotte perspired from pumping hard, but the ocean breeze cooled her off. They returned to Summerhill windblown and slightly sunburned, despite their sleeves and hats.
    â€œThat was such fun. May we play a game of croquet or tennis now?” Ruthie asked as she adjusted the bow on her middy blouse.
    â€œMaybe later, but reading comes first. Would you prefer to read on the veranda or in the nursery?”
    Ruthie rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call our playroom a nursery. That sounds so babyish.”
    â€œYes, you’re absolutely right. Pardon my mistake,” Charlotte said with a smile.
    â€œI choose the veranda. And I think I’ll get a cookie or two first,” Tim said.
    â€œAll right, but no dawdling in the kitchen,” Charlotte warned. “I’ll meet you on the back veranda in about half an hour. And remember to bring your books.”
    She watched the pair head to the kitchen before she slipped into Professor Wilmont’s study to search for evidence. The possibility of someone catching her in the act of snooping loomed large. Her every nerve vibrated, pulsing unease through her chest. But it was better to start now before the professor returned from his morning classes.
    With shaking hands she rifled through papers on his desk and opened cabinets and desk drawers. She scanned notes and writings but discovered nothing except a few dust bunnies in the far corners.
    She wasn’t surprised. A smart man, Professor Wilmont would surely lock up incriminating information to thwart a nosey person such as herself. She hastened upstairs to check his bedroom. She took a deep breath and stepped inside the large, expensively furnished room flooded with light and the ever-present salty smell of the sea. She spotted few personal items except for a gilt-framed wedding photograph displayed on the wall.
    She drew closer to examine the picture of a young Daniel Wilmont gazing adoringly at his lovely bride. The lady, who looked no more than eighteen or nineteen, had wavy hair topped with a crown of orange blossoms and a lace veil. Delicate features set in a heart-shaped face seemed to caress the unseen camera with half-closed, sensuous eyes. Charlotte was caught in the enigmatic gaze of the young woman, long dead.
    What was Mrs. Wilmont like? Smooth and sophisticated?
    Charlotte shook the musings from her mind and pulled her attention back to her task before someone discovered her in a room where she had no business. She needed to hurry. Rummaging through the bureau and chest of drawers, she found only clothes stuffed inside all in a jumble. On the far side of the room she looked through a cedar chest containing winter blankets and handmade quilts. The nightstand yielded nothing either. Peering under the bed, she noted a lone dust ball.
    In the wardrobe, vests and woolen scarves spilled over the top shelf, crowding a stack of books, scrapbooks, and photograph albums. And a hatbox. She kept listening for voices or footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied she was still alone, Charlotte pulled down the hatbox and lifted the cover. A small book labeled Prayer Journal lay on top of several dime novels and books of poetry. She opened the journal and found the name Sarah Wilmont written on the inside cover. Had she discovered gold? She took a peek.
    With no time to read now, she’d have to borrow the book. Most likely the professor wouldn’t notice its absence. She shoved the hatbox back in place, tucked the journal under her arm, and then hesitated. Was it right to read someone else’s personal account? Certainly not, but this was for a good cause, indirectly for the betterment of society. She’d return it to its proper place as soon as she glanced through it—and before the professor had a chance to notice its absence.
    Charlotte flew to her bedroom and locked the book safely inside her bureau. She collapsed in a chair and tossed back her head and breathed slowly. For several seconds