ANNE ASHLEY - Lady Gwendolen Investigates

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Elegant yet feisty, well traveled yet innocent to the world, beautiful yet modest–prying into others' lives isn't for Lady Gwendolen Warrender.Until murder and mayhem come to Marsden Wood! And every good sleuth needs a partner. Who better than dashing master of the manor Jocelyn Northbridge? With his touch of arrogance, intelligent eyes and brooding chivalry, she knows he'll make the perfect accomplice.But soon the renowned bachelor has more than solving murder in mind. It seems Gwendolen may have uncovered her very own marriage proposal!

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Having the most beautiful sapphire and diamond ring slipped with loving care onto one’s finger does tend to dominate one’s mind.

Consequently, it wasn’t until after she and Joss had enjoyed the intimate little dinner for two, and had returned to the comfort of the front parlor, that Gwen’s thoughts returned to recent events, both happy and sad, and the promise she had made to Annie the previous day.

“Have you someone in mind to replace Mrs. Brice?”

Only for an instant did Joss’s gaze stray from the chessboard, set on the table between them, to cast his worthy opponent a quizzical look. “Hardly my province any longer, my sweet. Domestic arrangements are your concern.”

“Oh, heavens!” Gwen hadn’t for a moment considered this. “Yes, I suppose they are. Or very soon will be, at any rate.”

Lady Gwendolen Investigates

Harlequin ®Historical

ANNE ASHLEY

was born and educated in Leicester. She lived for a long time in Scotland, but now lives in the West Country with two cats, her two sons and her husband, who has a wonderful and very necessary sense of humor. When not pounding away at the keys of her word processor, she likes to relax in her garden, which she has opened to the public on more than one occasion in aid of the village church funds.

LADYGWENDOLENInvestigates

ANNE ASHLEY

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Author Note

Although it is acknowledged that the heroine of this story, being the widow of a knight, should not be addressed as Lady Gwendolen, for the novel’s title only this rule has been waived.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Were the inns in England always this busy nowadays? Gwendolen wondered, while neatly avoiding a harassed-looking ostler leading a pair of steaming horses across the crowded forecourt.

It was only to be expected, she supposed, that five years spent abroad might result in her forgetting certain aspects of life back here in the land of her birth. Not that she had ever had much experience of travel, of course…of life, even, before her marriage to Sir Percival Warrender.

Pausing in her musings, she stepped to one side, thereby allowing the stagecoach passengers to traipse unhindered from the inn and return to their conveyance. None of them seemed to notice the bitterly cold gusts of wind sweeping across the forecourt at frequent intervals. Gwen, on the other hand, had been very much aware of the unpleasantly low temperature from the moment she had alighted from her hired carriage, and drew her fur-lined cloak more tightly about her. Having lived in a much warmer climate for very many months, she had forgotten, too, just how chilly it could be in England even in March, when travel became more widespread.

The frequently inclement weather was something else she would need to accustom herself to again, she mused, as she took the added precaution of raising her hood against further cold blasts, the result of which severely restricted her field of vision. One moment she was enjoying the protection the busy posting-house’s pleasantly warm interior offered the instant she had stepped over the threshold; the next, she felt as if she had just walked into a stone-hard wall.

Almost at once a strong-fingered hand fastened itself about her left arm, just above the elbow, instantly steadying her. Some few moments later a deeply attractive and clearly refined voice eventually enquired into her well-being, but not before she had detected the muttered oath, only partially smothered, preceding the belated query. Hence, she wasn’t unduly surprised to discover, upon finally raising her head, that the face peering down at her betrayed a deal more impatience than concern.

She took a step away, the better to focus on a pair of dark eyes set in a ruggedly masculine countenance that wasn’t even remotely handsome. ‘I do beg your pardon, sir. Entirely my own fault,’ she declared, generously accepting all blame.

As she removed her cowl with a casual flick of one hand, there was, just for an instant, a marked softening about the set of thin lips, while brown eyes considered the burnished-copper highlights streaking through chestnut locks.

‘Very true, ma’am, it was,’ he agreed in the very next breath, the softer expression having disappeared so completely that Gwen wasn’t at all sure she hadn’t imagined it in the first place. ‘May I suggest, therefore, you attempt to take more care in future. Journeying about the country, even at this time of year, can prove a hazardous undertaking, without having to contend with acts of downright stupidity perpetrated by fellow travellers.’

‘Well, really!’ Gwen muttered, after he had doffed his hat in what she considered a most condescending manner and had begun to stride away in the direction of the main entrance.

Having to deal with abrasive fellows such as that was possibly something else she would need to grow accustomed to, she supposed, as she continued to watch her tormentor’s progress across the room until he had disappeared from view.

Undeniably she had had little experience of such unpleasant fellows. Her formative years, spent in a quiet country parsonage, and her marriage to a very considerate and protective husband, had certainly proved to be a shield against the more unpleasant aspects of life. All the same, she wasn’t completely unworldly. Furthermore, she had no intention of withering, like some delicate bloom touched by an icy wind, merely as a result of a little unpleasantness.

Besides which, she was not entirely alone and defenceless, she reminded herself. Even though she had no immediate family now living, and had been widowed for several months, she could always rely on dear Gillie’s loving protection and unfailing support.

Her blue eyes scanned the coffee room, seeking and quickly locating the plump figure of her lifelong companion-cum-maid. At that moment, the devoted servant just happened to be locked in conversation with a harassed-looking individual, whom Gwen could only assume must surely be the landlord. From the slight look of disappointment so easily discernible when the maid turned in her direction, Gwen guessed there was no private parlour available. Which, considering the number of patrons bustling about the inn, was in no way surprising, she decided, gesturing towards a row of settles set at frequent intervals along one of the walls.

Because the seat nearest the substantial fire was already occupied by a fashionably attired gentleman, Gwen was obliged to slip into a settle sited a little further away from the source of heat. As the seats were placed back to back, she had little difficulty hearing the gentleman talking softly to the inn’s cat, which she had noticed had been curled up beside him and, typically feline, closest to the fire.

She had absolutely no difficulty either, just a few moments later, in recognising the cultured voice that announced authoritatively, ‘My groom will have the carriage round at the door in five minutes.’

‘It’s dashed good of you, Pont, to put yourself out this way,’ the well-dressed gentleman responded, while Gwen herself took the added precaution of slipping further down the high-backed settle so as to avoid detection by the new arrival. ‘It’s a deal more comfortable travelling in a private carriage than going on the mail-coach.’

‘I’ve already told you, Merry, I’m not putting myself out,’ his companion responded, proving instantly that he wasn’t always downright rude and could evidently be quite obliging when so inclined. ‘I’ve managed to conduct my business here in Bristol speedily, as you know. And I did intend to pay a brief visit to the capital within the next couple of weeks. As well go now as later. So long as you don’t object to making that slight detour to Bath first?’

‘Not at all, old chap,’ the abrasive gentleman was speedily assured. ‘Haven’t set foot in the place since great-aunt Beatrice passed away, ten years or more ago.’ There followed a significant pause, then, ‘How have the girls settled in at the seminary?’

‘It’s still early days. Nonetheless, according to the headmistress’s letter, very well indeed…considering.’ The deep and prolonged sigh was clearly audible to Gwen who continued, unashamedly, to eavesdrop. ‘All the same, I’ll not be completely easy in my mind until I’ve seen for myself, and spoken to my wards.’

‘It was a bad business…a very bad business, Pont, especially as both girls had grown so fond of that poor governess. She was quite alone in the world, I seem to remember you saying, no immediate family.’

‘Not as far as I’m aware. I recall her mentioning she’d lost both parents when she was quite young. I do happen to know for a fact she corresponded with someone residing in the capital—a friend, I can only suppose. Naturally, I should have taken the trouble to apprise this person of what had occurred. Unfortunately no letters were found among her belongings offering a clue to the person’s identity. Which was most odd, because I know for a fact she both wrote and received a number of missives during those many months she was in my employ.’

There was no mistaking the thread of sadness in the abrupt gentleman’s voice, proving yet again that he wasn’t wholly devoid of compassion. Although a moment later Gwen wondered if she had credited him with more feelings than he possessed when he added, ‘Oddly enough, I had come to look upon her as one of those rare members of her sex—a refreshingly sensible young woman. Then she ups and does something utterly birdwitted. Takes herself into Marsden Wood, a place she well knew had earned itself something of an unsavoury reputation in recent years. Furthermore, she does so in January, for heaven’s sake! Now, I ask you, Merry, what in the world can have possessed any level-headed creature to go exploring a wood on a dismally damp winter’s afternoon? And what’s more…alone!’

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