voice behind her.
“But, Amelia, this girl—!”
Josie frowned a little as she went to the library and the small desk she used. She didn’t really have any work to do, beyond sorting and filing copies of some of Amelia’s notes from the last day or so. Amelia was an inveterate letter writer at all times, maintaining a steady correspondence with friends all over the country, and she insisted on keeping copies of letters received
and
written for the family archives. Recent letters and notes concerned Peter’s death, of course, and Josie had been too busy to get them all filed.
Not that Amelia either asked or expected her to be working on a Saturday evening, but Josie was restless and needed to be occupied. She was worried. In many ways, Peter hadn’t exactly been an asset to the family, but his death had upset a careful balance, and the result was a great deal of tension—and suspicion.
Josie didn’t want to think that, but during the past days she had come to the reluctant conclusion that someone inside the family might have had something to do with Peter’s death. For one thing, the police seemed far more interested now than they had been initially in the whereabouts of family members the night Peter had been killed; they had returned twice during the week, polite but full of questions. And for another thing, the faces around her seemed guarded and wary when they hadn’t been before.
Even Alex …
“You surely aren’t planning to work tonight?”
Josie looked up as Alex came into the room, and after a slight hesitation placed a crystal paperweight atop a stack of Amelia’s notes. “No, I guess not. I was just restless.”
“After that little scene at the supper table, I’m not surprised. Madeline is still upset, and Amelia lost patience with her. So it’s left to Daniel to try and calm his mother down.”
“I can’t say that I blame Madeline, really,” Josie said. “To bring any stranger into the house right now would be upsetting, but Laura Sutherland? What’s gotten into Amelia? This sudden obsession with getting her portrait painted, and by an unknown artist, seems so …”
“Crazy?” Alex supplied wryly.
Josie got up and absently pushed her chair neatly back under the desk. “Eccentric, let’s say.”
Alex laughed shortly at her careful choice of words. “She’s up to something, that much is certain. So’s Daniel.”
Josie looked into his speculative greenish eyes and felt a little chill of unease. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … things are going to come to a head in this family, and soon, if I’m not much mistaken. The only question is, how many of us are going to be left standing when it’s all over.”
“You make it sound like a war.”
He shrugged, suddenly careless. “Nothing for you to worry about, sweet. Both Amelia and Daniel like you.” He reached out and took her hand, smiling. “Anyway, let’s not think anymore about that. You’re restless, and I’ve had about all of this house I can take for the moment, so why don’t we get out of here?”
“You’re on.” Josie didn’t know what he had in mind, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t want to think or worry anymore, at least for a while, and Alex was the best cure she had ever found for too much introspection.
• • •
T HE CLOCK ON his nightstand proclaimed the hour of midnight when Josie stirred beside Alex. She was reluctant to move, very reluctant, but she had never yet spent an entire night in his bed and wasn’t about to start now. Whatever he said, Josie doubted that Amelia would like her secretary and the soon-to-be family lawyer openly sharing a bed right here in the family house.
“Where are you going?” he murmured when she pushed the covers back.
“To my room, of course.”
Alex hooked an arm around her waist, hauled her easily back to his side, and shifted his weight so that he held her trapped. “I don’t think so.”
“Alex—”
He leaned down and
“But, Amelia, this girl—!”
Josie frowned a little as she went to the library and the small desk she used. She didn’t really have any work to do, beyond sorting and filing copies of some of Amelia’s notes from the last day or so. Amelia was an inveterate letter writer at all times, maintaining a steady correspondence with friends all over the country, and she insisted on keeping copies of letters received
and
written for the family archives. Recent letters and notes concerned Peter’s death, of course, and Josie had been too busy to get them all filed.
Not that Amelia either asked or expected her to be working on a Saturday evening, but Josie was restless and needed to be occupied. She was worried. In many ways, Peter hadn’t exactly been an asset to the family, but his death had upset a careful balance, and the result was a great deal of tension—and suspicion.
Josie didn’t want to think that, but during the past days she had come to the reluctant conclusion that someone inside the family might have had something to do with Peter’s death. For one thing, the police seemed far more interested now than they had been initially in the whereabouts of family members the night Peter had been killed; they had returned twice during the week, polite but full of questions. And for another thing, the faces around her seemed guarded and wary when they hadn’t been before.
Even Alex …
“You surely aren’t planning to work tonight?”
Josie looked up as Alex came into the room, and after a slight hesitation placed a crystal paperweight atop a stack of Amelia’s notes. “No, I guess not. I was just restless.”
“After that little scene at the supper table, I’m not surprised. Madeline is still upset, and Amelia lost patience with her. So it’s left to Daniel to try and calm his mother down.”
“I can’t say that I blame Madeline, really,” Josie said. “To bring any stranger into the house right now would be upsetting, but Laura Sutherland? What’s gotten into Amelia? This sudden obsession with getting her portrait painted, and by an unknown artist, seems so …”
“Crazy?” Alex supplied wryly.
Josie got up and absently pushed her chair neatly back under the desk. “Eccentric, let’s say.”
Alex laughed shortly at her careful choice of words. “She’s up to something, that much is certain. So’s Daniel.”
Josie looked into his speculative greenish eyes and felt a little chill of unease. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … things are going to come to a head in this family, and soon, if I’m not much mistaken. The only question is, how many of us are going to be left standing when it’s all over.”
“You make it sound like a war.”
He shrugged, suddenly careless. “Nothing for you to worry about, sweet. Both Amelia and Daniel like you.” He reached out and took her hand, smiling. “Anyway, let’s not think anymore about that. You’re restless, and I’ve had about all of this house I can take for the moment, so why don’t we get out of here?”
“You’re on.” Josie didn’t know what he had in mind, but she didn’t really care. She didn’t want to think or worry anymore, at least for a while, and Alex was the best cure she had ever found for too much introspection.
• • •
T HE CLOCK ON his nightstand proclaimed the hour of midnight when Josie stirred beside Alex. She was reluctant to move, very reluctant, but she had never yet spent an entire night in his bed and wasn’t about to start now. Whatever he said, Josie doubted that Amelia would like her secretary and the soon-to-be family lawyer openly sharing a bed right here in the family house.
“Where are you going?” he murmured when she pushed the covers back.
“To my room, of course.”
Alex hooked an arm around her waist, hauled her easily back to his side, and shifted his weight so that he held her trapped. “I don’t think so.”
“Alex—”
He leaned down and
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