Samantha James Read Online Free Page A

had taken lodgings not far from the baron’s home. Several days after their arrival, Maura sat down at the wooden desk in her room, herheart thumping madly, her mind running wildly. Yet slowly, ever so slowly, she reached for quill, paper, and ink, and began to write.
    Lord Preston,
    Please allow me to convey my condolences on the death of your wife. It comes years late, I know. For that, I apologize. My own dear father, you see, has just passed on as well. In going through his belongings, I discovered a packet of letters written to my dearest father from my mother while they were courting. In her letters, my dear mama spoke of your beloved wife quite fondly—they were, it would seem, great friends when they were young.
    As I am staying in the area with my Uncle Murdoch for several days’ rest, I cannot help but think of my dear mama and your wife. I pray you will forgive my forwardness in sending you this letter, but again, please accept my condolences.
    Yours truly,
Lady Maura O’Donnell
    A coin was pressed into the hand of the innkeeper’s house boy and the letter dispatched. Thebaron might call her bluff. He might call the authorities, Murdoch warned, were he to know her claim was untrue.
    Instead the baron called on her…at tea, the very next afternoon in the inn’s tiny dining room.
    “Your mother,” he observed, casting her a look beneath the bushiest pair of white brows she’d ever seen in her life. “Gone, too, I gather?”
    “Aye,” Maura said earnestly. “I was but a girl when she died.” She had lowered her eyes, as if it were painful for her to think about. “But, oh, how she loved the rolling hills and masses of flowers in County Clare!”
    Another fact that Murdoch had unearthed.
    “Oh, aye, that she did, my Lorraine!” the baron had replied. He scratched his great droopy moustache. “I must say, I’ve always found the weather in Clare a wee bit wet for m’taste.”
    Maura laid her spoon upon the saucer. “Well, perhaps Uncle and I should journey to the south and east,” she said brightly. “My father was not one to travel far from home. But Uncle Murdoch and I have not yet decided precisely where our journey will lead us. Perhaps as the wind takes us, as they say.”
    “When do you leave?” the baron had asked.
    “We thought to leave tomorrow.” Murdoch spoke before Maura had a chance to.
    “Tomorrow! Oh, but you cannot leave so soon! Your journey—you travel at your leisure, do you not?”
    Maura cleared her throat. “Yes, but—”
    “Then stay! I have a masquerade planned tomorrow night,” declared the baron. “It would please me to no end if the two of ye would attend. It would please me even more if you would come stay at the manor with me now! I have a house full of guests already—and room for more.”
    This was exactly what Maura had wanted. Exactly as she hoped. But the baron was clearly a man of great, hearty, and welcoming demeanor, and she winced inside at her deceit. She liked him, she truly did, and lying to him was like the scraping of tooth upon stone.
    But then she thought of the Black Scotsman.
    She bit her lip. “I’ve never been to a masquerade before, Uncle.”
    Murdoch was frowning. Pretending to consider, as she well knew. “Well—”
    “Come now,” said the baron. “Never been to a masquerade! Why, almost a sin, it is, for our lovely Lady Maura to miss such an event! I implore you, stay, the both of ye now! I’ve a room full and more of costumes that you may choose from.”
    Murdoch arched a wiry brow and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Ye know I cannot refuse ye, girl.”
    The baron had let out a laugh. “Then do not, man!” He clapped Murdoch on the shoulder. “I shall send a man over for yer things as soon as I arrive home—”
    “Oh, but we are quite comfortable here for the night, are we not, Uncle?”
    Murdoch nodded. They both knew better than to appear too eager.
    It was perfect. So very perfect.
    “At least for the night of the