A Lady Never Lies by Juliana Gray Page A

and meaning another, always looking at one as if one’s nose were protruding through a garden hedge. “Yes, of course. And what do you propose?”
    “The housekeeper tells me that the castle is divided rather neatly into . . .”
    “The housekeeper?” Finn asked witlessly, because he had just discovered that at some point in the past few hours, Lady Morley had removed her jacket, and she stood now before him in her plain white shirtwaist, unbuttoned at the neck.
    “Yes, a woman named Morini; she appeared directly after you left for the stables. She showed us about, and it seems that, for the time being, that is to say until Signore Rosseti can be found to set things right, our respective parties can take up residence in the castle’s two wings with very little . . . I say, Mr. Burke, are you attending me?”
    “Yes, quite.”
    “As I said, then, very little need for interaction between our two parties. Except at mealtimes, as I regret to say there is only one room suitable for dining.”
    He realized she’d stopped talking. “Very well. I suppose that will do.”
    “How generous of you,” she said. “I expect you’ll be equally grateful to hear we’ve been slaving like charwomen for hours, setting up the beds and finding your dinner.”
    He cast about for something to say. “Are there no other servants, then?” he asked finally, trying not to let his eyes stray farther downward, to discover just how far the unbuttoning of her shirtwaist had progressed.
    “What astonishing powers of deduction you have, Mr. Burke. I can well imagine how you lay those chaps at the Royal Society absolutely flat with your logic.”
    He opened his mouth to form some suitably cutting riposte (
When faced with a roomful of reasonable men, Lady Morley, instead of a single housekeeping shrew . . .
), but then his eyes broke discipline at last and caught fatally in the center of her chest.
    It was worse than he’d dreamed. The unbuttoning continued unabated down her bosom, forming a daring gap in the white starched fabric, and her skin glowed lusciously beneath in the flickering candlelight. Worse, one panel—probably in the midst of her bed-making exertions, God help him—had pulled aside to reveal the curve of a gloriously generous breast, etched by the delicate lace of her snug-fitting corset.
    Finn’s eyes shot back to Lady Morley’s face. “I . . . that is . . .”
My dear Lady Morley, I beg to inform you that your left breast is quite nearly hanging out of your shirtwaist . . .
    “Oh yes,” she said scornfully. “Most impressive.”
    . . . That is to say, your
right
breast, since it is adjacent to my left hand, and we are naturally facing each other . . .
    “Have you nothing to say at all, Mr. Burke?”
    . . . You’re welcome, of course, to tuck your splendid mammary back in its rightful place, or else I should be more than happy to assist you with the adjustment . . .
    She shifted the candle to her other hand, and as the light passed before her face he saw the drawn paleness of her skin, the violet smudges beneath her eyes.
    “Well then,” she said, into his silence, “since your grateful thanks don’t appear to be forthcoming, I’ll lead the way into the dining room, such as it is.” She turned with a broad sweep of her skirts. “I do hope I don’t step on any of your things, Mr. Burke. If I detect any crunching beneath my feet, I’ll be sure to inform you at once.”
    “You’re too kind, Lady Morley,” he choked out, following the bouncing motion of the candle as if it were a beacon. “And Lady Morley,” he ventured, as they passed from the great hall toward the mirthful sounds of a well-attended dinner table, “may I suggest that you attend to . . . that is . . . a very slight stain upon the fabric of your collar.”
    He was going to murder Rosseti, he decided. If the man ever bothered to show up.

FIVE
    A lexandra, about to launch a discussion of Aristophanes,