“Can’t say I blame him for that,” Daphne said. “But returning to your story, how convinced are you that Arthur murdered your grandfather?”
“Not very, to tell you the truth. Arthur never struck me as the type of gentleman capable of shooting a man in cold blood.”
“I’ll still question him about the matter and see if I can ferret out the truth,” Daphne said. “But even if he didn’t murder your grandfather, he’s a danger to you. You were, after all, at the scene of the murder, and you shot Arthur, a guilty reaction if there ever was one. He might be holding a grudge about that and might have decided it’s past time you were held accountable.” Daphne rose to her feet. “But there’s only one way to find out why Arthur’s determined to find you and that’s to hear him out. Here’s hoping his story sheds some light on your case, light we can then begin using to solve the mystery of your grandfather’s death.”
“I didn’t say anything about solving my grandfather’s death.”
“I know, but with my knowing about your past now, there’s little chance that I’ll be content to leave well enough alone. You’ve been hiding under your dreadful widow’s weeds for far too long, and in my humble opinion, it’s time to uncover the truth—which will then hopefully allow you to abandon your disguise and get on with the business of living a life out of the shadows.”
CHAPTER
Five
Being a man of business, Arthur was used to being the object of unflinching stares directed his way during meetings with fellow men of business, many of whom were known as ruthless robber barons. Interestingly enough, he’d never once felt uneasy under the gazes of those men.
Being on the receiving end of an unwavering stare coming from Miss Judith Donovan, however, left him feeling decidedly disconcerted. It also left him wondering if he should abandon his desire to hire this particular agency to locate the exceedingly difficult-to-track-down Eugenia Howland because, frankly, nothing about his time at the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency was going according to plan.
Unfortunately, because he’d given his word to Mr. James W. Mason that he would make certain Eugenia’s best interests were looked after if James ever found himself incapable of personally seeing after those interests, he was going to have to see his decision through and hope the ladies of the agency would decide to take on his case.
Truth be told, having Eugenia send a bullet through his arm had not exactly left him keen to honor his word, but given the dire circumstances that were now unfolding in Montana, he felt compelledto locate her once and for all and was willing to embrace any means to discover her whereabouts, even if that meant hiring an inquiry agency that didn’t seem all that interested in securing his business.
“Would you mind if I took the liberty of sketching your face while you wait for Daphne and Eunice to reappear?” Judith asked, causing Arthur to blink back to the unsettling situation at hand, that of being watched far too intently by a lady who was apparently still determined to document his bone structure.
He summoned up a smile. “While I’m not opposed to your sketching me, Miss Donovan, I’m not sure you’ll have time to make much progress. Surely Daphne and Eunice, or rather Mrs. Holbrooke, as she told me she prefers to be addressed, will be out soon to tell me what they’ve decided.”
Judith gave a wave of a paint-stained hand. “It won’t take me any time at all to sketch you, but did Eunice really tell you she prefers to be addressed as Mrs. Holbrooke?”
“Why do I get the distinct impression you find that surprising?”
“Because it is,” Judith said before she rushed over to a table, snatched up a sketchpad and pencil, sat down in a chair, and, without another word, began sketching away.
Shifting on the hard-backed chair to get comfortable, which earned him a narrowing of the eyes from Judith, Arthur stilled and struggled to think of something to say that might have the awkward atmosphere that had settled around them dissipating.
“Have you been painting long?” he finally asked.
“Only about three years. My darling aunt left me a bequest in her will that allowed me to escape the dull life on my family farm and pursue my passion for the arts.”
“How delightful.”
“Quite.” With that, Judith returned her attention to his face again, scratching her nose with the end of her pencil. “Could you possibly try to soften your expression, Mr. Livingston? I have a certain look in mind that I’d like to capture on paper, but I need you to look more approachable.”
“I’m not certain how I’d do that.”
“Perhaps you could think of something dreamy.”
“I’m not really a dreamy sort of gentleman.”
“I’m sure you could summon up a dreamy look if you put a bit of effort into it. Simply settle your thoughts on whichever young lady has garnered your attention, or perhaps you could think of your wife if you’re married.”
“I’m not married.”
“Then think of whichever lady captures your interest the most, and do not tell me you don’t know any ladies of interest. A handsome gentleman like yourself is probably in high demand. Choose one of those ladies, concentrate on her, and for heaven’s sake, wipe that grimace you’re now sporting off your face.”
“I imagining I’m grimacing because I’m quite unused to being asked to summon up a dreamy look.”
“Be that as it may, it lends you a most unpleasant air, and unpleasant is not the look I’m striving to capture.” She lowered her pencil toward her sketchpad. “Why don’t you close your eyes? That may help you drum up an image of an appealing lady.”
The last thing Arthur wanted to do was to close his eyes to conjure up an image of a lady because the lady who would most assuredly appear was not a lady he enjoyed dwelling on, not after she’d toyed with his affections and then callously tossed him aside and married another man.
