Free Heart Wounds (A Miranda and Parker Mystery) by Linsey Lanier Page B

still way up there.
    Needed to be, Miranda thought, to make room for the huge paintings along the walls. Images of ladies in fancy silk and lace gowns and bearded gentlemen in brocade on horseback in darkened backgrounds. People who must have lived centuries ago, some of them perhaps Eaton ancestors.
    They sat at the places marked for them in a boy-girl-boy-girl pattern with Lady Davinia at one end and Sir Neville at the other. Miranda found herself nearer Davinia’s end sandwiched between Lord Eaton and Lord Lovelace. Parker wound up near the other end.
    She didn’t care for that. Not that she couldn’t hold her own with the upper crust. She’d had plenty of practice doing that since she’d met Parker. But he was always so much more at ease in ritzy social situations.
    But when a door opened and delicious aromas of fancy food began to fill the room, she forgot all about her uneasiness. She remembered all she’d had all day was that awful imitation of a candy bar at the police station and started to salivate like a mad dog.
    Servants placed steaming bowls of something green in front of the guests. Miranda eyed hers carefully when it came. It had leafy things floating in it and looked a little gross but it smelled wonderful.
    After figuring out which spoon to use, she dipped it into the thick liquid and ventured a taste. Pea soup ? Zucchini? With a light kick of spice. Yum. She didn’t care what it was. She was tempted to pick up the bowl and slurp the whole serving down in one gulp.
    But since she might want some answers from these people , it was best not to offend them. She glanced over at Parker and caught him watching her with a look of amusement as if he were reading her mind.
    She knew he was glad she was eating. H e cared about things like that. And maybe if she kept her ears peeled, she’d learned something that would help with their investigation.
    While the two Lords on either side of her chatted away about the real estate business Lord Eaton seemed to own, Miranda attacked the soup and finished the whole thing just before the next dish was served.
    It was salmon. Flaky and delicate in a creamy, rich-tasting lemon sauce dotted with capers. Miranda dived in. She was halfway through it when Lionel turned to her as if he’d just noticed her. “So sorry, Ms. Steele. We do go on about our business.”
    She paused, fork nearly to her mouth and blinked at him, surprised he was addressing her. “Oh, no. That’s fine. I don’t mind.”
    His brown eyes twinkled. “Lovelace and I are on the board of a real estate firm,” he explained. “We do luxury properties. You wouldn’t be in the market for a small estate in the country, would you?”
    She decided to play dumb and innocent. “Oh, you’d have to talk to my husband about that.”
    He chuckled. “I’ll take that as an invitation.”
    On the other side of her, Lord Lovelace uttered a very British laugh. “Eaton, you’re such as salesman. Can’t you give it a rest?”
    “You never know who your next customer is going to be, now do you?”
    Lovelace shook his head. “I apologize for him, Ms. Steele. And for our weather, too. I know it’s frightful to most Americans.” How smoothly he switched to a neutral topic.
    “It’s not so bad.” She smiled before scooping up the last bite of salmon and putting it in her mouth.
    Lionel reached for his wineglass as the next dish was served. Some sort of poultry leg in a thick brown sauce. “It’s rabbit,” he whispered when he saw her staring at it.
    Miranda picked up her knife and fork and grinned as if she ate it every night. “My favorite.” She took a bite and tasted garlic, red wine and shallots over lean, fresh meat. Delicious.
    Lionel studied her for a long moment as he set his glass down and picked up his own fork. “It must be sunny in—where is it you’re from? Atlanta?”
    “Yes. It’s starting to get hot this time of year.” Unlike this conversation. She really wanted to ask him what he