lips parted. In her haste to keep him from troubling himself, she had made him think she didn’t like him. And she realized in that moment that it wasn’t true. She did like this man who had swirled into her life like a tornado and turned everything on its head.
“I fear I’ve offended you,” she said softly. “And I didn’t mean to. I would love a guide to London whenever you have the time or inclination. Though Mabel went on about museums with you today, I certainly pictured myself being tucked into some hidden home, only there to assist when I was needed, but if there can be more I will gladly take it.”
He held her stare for a long beat, as the serving maid took their bowls and replaced them with the main meal. Celeste might have breathed in the scents again, noticed the bright beauty of perfectly roasted vegetables, but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from her companion.
“Whatever more I can provide,” he said before he was the one to break that intense stare.
She began to eat and for a little while they ate in silence. Not uncomfortable, but not exactly companionable either. She felt a drive to fill it as the food on their plates dwindled.
“Will I…will I meet the other wives?” she asked.
He lifted his gaze. “You would wish to do so?”
She nodded. “I admit I am curious. But perhaps they would hate me. Put the blame on each other rather than on Erasmus for what was done.”
“I assure you neither of them are that kind of lady. You will meet them both, and I think you will get along just fine.”
“Will you tell me about them?” she asked, pushing her food around her plate as she tried not to sound too eager or nervous.
“If you’d like.”
“Oh yes. I hate being kept in the dark. I can imagine so many worse scenarios when left to my own devices.”
“Let me see, the first wife is Abigail. She was married to Montgomery for almost five years. She is warm and very kind. And lovely, a very pretty woman.”
Celeste felt a twinge of jealousy at that descriptor, but shoved it down because it certainly wasn’t her place. “What was her reaction when she discovered what Erasmus had done?”
“Shocked, just as you were,” he said, though his brow wrinkled slightly as if he had thoughts on that which he didn’t share as he continued, “Angry, though she handled it well. She has been cooperative. And she was instantly welcoming to Phillipa, the second wife.”
“Oh, so they have already met?” Celeste said, worrying her lip again. Perhaps she would be the odd woman out, then.
“They did, for Phillipa Montgomery was visiting London at the time of the murder.”
Celeste searched his face a bit closer. “You count them both as suspects, don’t you?”
He arched a brow. “What makes you say that?”
“I heard it in your voice.”
“You know me so well after so short an acquaintance?” he asked. “Or are you simply that observant?”
Celeste ignored those loaded questions. “Why do you suspect them?”
“Both were in London. In fact, Phillipa Montgomery was in Town rather unexpectedly,” he said. “And while both expressed surprise to hear the news about Montgomery’s behavior, that could have easily been pretended.”
“And we wives certainly have motive,” Celeste mused.
“Yes.”
“And what kind of woman is Phillipa?” she asked, mulling it all over in her mind.
“She was certainly the angriest of the three of you when she was told about Montgomery. She’s a fiery spirit and seems to feel the injustice of what was done most keenly.”
Celeste nodded. “I admit I’m very interested to meet them both. It seems we are markedly different people in temperament.”
“And in appearance. Abigail has dark hair, Phillipa blonde curls and you have those…” He cleared his throat. “…beautiful auburn locks.”
Her cheeks heated and she tried not to smile at the compliment. It was so rare that anyone told her she was pretty. It wasn’t something she valued all that highly, after all. She liked to be recognized for her mind, for her values. She had always chased away men who waxed poetic about her face. It had never sat right with her when Erasmus did so during their halfhearted courtship.
But something about the way this man said it landed very differently. In the center of her chest. Which was wrong, wasn’t it? She’d only just met him and she was supposed to be in mourning for a husband she had never loved and who had