Fatal as a Fallen Woman Read Online Free Page A

didn't need to look at it again to remember how the message read. Typical of the frugal woman to whom he'd given his heart, the missive contained only ten words, the maximum number she could send without paying extra: "MUST MISS DEADLINE. FAMILY MATTER. WILL EXPLAIN UPON RETURN.DIANA."
    He'd responded at once with a cable of his own, demanding details, but the reply had come from Diana's landlady, Mrs. Curran. Diana had gone away for a few days. Mrs. Curran did not know where, only that she'd left in the company of Horatio Foxe.
    "It's plain to me she doesn't care enough about your feelings to take the time to write a proper letter, even if it's only to cry off. I say good riddance. Fussing about her whereabouts is just a waste of your valuable time."
    "I thought you liked Diana."
    "I found her most entertaining as a houseguest. And she was gracious about forgiving me for that little incident in the family crypt. But I'm not certain she'd have suited as a daughter-in-law. She's an intelligent young woman, I grant you, but flighty."
    "That's rich, coming from you."
    Ignoring Ben's rudeness, she chucked Cedric under the chin, then looked deep into the big cat's eyes, which were identical in color to her own. "I believe we have established a harmony of thought."
    "You and Cedric, I presume," Ben muttered. He certainly had no idea how Maggie Northcote's mind worked. "If Diana doesn't contact me again within a day or two, I'm going to New York."
    "What?" She jerked bolt upright, dislodging Cedric, who sent a baleful copper-eyed glare in Ben's direction before stalking off in a huff. "How can you even think of abandoning your brother? Aaron needs you close by. What if infection sets in? What if he has a . . . a relapse?"
    There would be little he could do, Ben thought, but he could hardly say so aloud to Aaron's mother. His brother had been close to death, in spite of all Ben's skill as a physician. He would be convalescent for some time yet. He needed constant care and supervision, but Ben wasn't certain, now that the first medical crisis was past, that Aaron needed his older brother hovering over him every moment.
    "I won't make any decision yet," Ben promised.
    "She eloped when she married before, didn't she? That tells you something right there."
    "It tells me Diana learned from experience not to rush when making important decisions. She didn't want to make the same mistake twice. That's why she went back to New York. To think things through."
    "Well, there you are. She did her thinking and decided marrying you was unwise."
    "No." The telegram hadn't said that, and it would have, he believed, if Diana had decided she didn't really love him. "Whatever is going on, nothing has changed the way she feels about me. I know her."
    "Well, then, Ben, tell me this—what do you know about her background besides the fact that she went to work as a newspaper columnist after her husband died?"
    "Not a great deal." He gave her a hard stare. "Don't tell me you're worried about Diana's family connections?"
    "Her ancestry doesn't matter to me in the least. How could it when I am myself descended from a long line of witches, Gypsies, and vampires? But there must be something disreputable in her past. Why else refuse to talk about it?" Easing to her feet, she crossed the room to his side. Unblinking eyes regarded him with just a hint of reproach. "Ben, dear, you know I'm not one to criticize, but it seems to me that you might have thought to ask a few questions about her family."
    "Why didn't you conduct an inquisition, if you were so curious about her?"
    "Well, I didn't know then that you meant to marry her, did I? And I had a few concerns of my own at the time."
    Ben scraped his fingers through his hair, knowing she was right. Besides, on her best day Maggie Northcote was self-absorbed. She'd only have "interviewed" Diana if she'd suspected there was a sufficiently dramatic story to be tweaked out of her.
    What did he know? During their time