Death Wears a Mask (37 page)
Read Death Wears a Mask Online
Authors: Ashley Weaver
“You're rather an idiot, Milo,” I said with a smile.
“But you love me anyway,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered softly. “I love you anyway.”
“Then let's go home. I'm quite sick of the Ritz.”
“Milo,” I said suddenly, stopping him at the doorway. “I happened to overhear a bit of your conversation with Helene Renault downstairs.”
“Happened to overhear?” he repeated. There was the slightest loosening of the corner of his mouth, as though he was almost tempted to smile. I had no doubt that he was perfectly aware of what I meant by that.
“I heard you ⦠fight her off,” I said, my own lips trembling at the corners. “She's quite tenacious, isn't she?”
He smiled then, one of those smiles that made my stomach flutter. “I may not be a model husband, my darling, but I hope I am a better one than I am often given credit for being.”
And there it was, a précis of our marriage. I couldn't change who he was, not really. He would never be a sentimental, dutiful husband at my beck and call, dedicating himself to my whims. But that was not why I had married him. What I had wanted most, I now had: the reassurance that I could rely on him when it mattered most. He had, after all, just taken a bullet for me.
He opened the door for me, and we went back out into the hall just as Lord Dunmore and Mrs. Garmond came up the stairs. I noticed a significant change at once. Mrs. Garmond's face was radiant, her dark eyes glistening with happiness. Something must have occurred since last we spoke.
“That police inspector has informed me of what's happened,” Lord Dunmore said when they reached us. “Are you all right, Ames?”
“Quite all right,” Milo answered.
“I can't believe it was Barrington,” Lord Dunmore said. “I never would have suspected him.”
“Is Foster still here?” Milo asked suddenly. “I'd like a word with him.”
“Milo⦔ I began to protest, but Lord Dunmore interrupted smoothly.
“Mr. Foster has had an unfortunate accident and broke his nose.”
The gentlemen met eyes, and Milo smiled. “Perhaps another time, then.”
Mrs. Garmond turned to me. “There's one more piece of news. You'll never guess. Alexander has asked me to marry him.”
“Has he?” I asked, considerably surprised. “Well, allow me to offer my congratulations.”
“He says I have you to thank,” she said.
My brows rose. “Oh?”
“I've realized the benefits of a loving and devoted wife,” he said, with a smile and a wink. “You're a lucky man, Ames.”
“That I am, Dunmore,” Milo agreed.
“I hope you will be very happy,” I told them, and I meant it.
“I'm certain we shall be.” Mrs. Garmond smiled up at him, her face aglow. She would have her work cut out for her with Lord Dunmore as a husband, but I suspected she was more than willing to try her hand at it. Furthermore, I thought she would enjoy it immensely.
Milo and I left them and were making our way down the stairs carefully, to keep from jarring Milo's wound, when a voice rang out. “Oh, Mrs. Ames! Mr. Ames!” Mrs. Roland came up the last few steps to meet us. “How dreadful, how absolutely dreadful! Are you all right, Mr. Ames?” she asked, surveying the blood on his clothes with something very like ill-concealed glee.
“Quite all right. Thank you,” he replied with a smile.
“But you've been injured.”
“Yes, but I've learned my lesson,” he said. “And Amory has promised she will be less violent in the future.”
She stopped, speechless, and I fought the urge to laugh. I doubted that Mrs. Roland's being at a loss for words had ever happened before and was unlikely to ever happen again, so I could not bring myself to be angry with Milo for so outrageous a remark.
We took advantage of her disconcertment, crossing the foyer and going out into the night. Bright lights flashed as we stepped outside, and I realized that reporters had gathered as they began to shout questions at us. News had spread with remarkable speed. I somehow suspected that Mrs. Roland was to thank for that.
“Mrs. Ames! How did you manage to catch another killer?”
“Mr. Ames! Are you gravely wounded?”
This was the last thing we needed. I was sure we made quite a pair, me in my evening gown and Milo in his bloodstained shirt. “Let's hurry to the car, Milo.” I made a move to descend the front steps, ready to push my way through the crowd, but Milo stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Just a moment, darling.”
“What is it?”
“Let's give them something to put in the gossip columns first, shall we?” And he pulled me to him and kissed me thoroughly in the blinding glare of the flashbulbs.
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Ashley Weaver
is the technical services coordinator at the Allen Parish Libraries in Oberlin, Louisiana. Weaver has worked in libraries since she was fourteen; she was a page and then a clerk before obtaining her MLIS from Louisiana State University. Weaver lives in Oakdale, Louisiana. You can sign up for email updates
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ALSO BY
ASHLEY WEAVER
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CONTENTS
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
DEATH WEARS A MASK.
Copyright © 2015 by Ashley Weaver. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Cover design by David Baldeosingh Rotstein
Cover illustration by John Mattos
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-04637-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-4654-8 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466846548
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
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First Edition: October 2015
