Page 19 of A Story of Love

He thumped it onto the surface of his desk. “I received this back from Merrow two days ago. They politely declined to print it.”

Merrow was the editor of a well-respected publishing house and David’s words were like a knife to her belly.

Lori swallowed. “Another rejection.”

“Yes. But I was just getting around to giving it to Jessop first, and then Lackington if Jessop is not interested.” He tapped his fingers on Lori’s manuscript, the culmination of four years of work. “Should I bother? You could always take this along to either of them yourself—you haven’t talked to them yet, have you?”

Lori gritted her jaws. David knew that she hadn’t approached Alfred Jessop because the man was notorious in his dislike of female writers. As for Lackington, she needed somebody like David to submit her work as Lackington didn’t accept manuscripts without a recommendation.

David pushed the manuscript towards her. “Or perhaps you would like to submit it to Newman? He accepts submissions from anyone.” He smiled.

He was referring to the owner of the Minerva Press, which published sensational gothic novels.

“I could give you a letter of recommendation for Newman,” he goaded when Lori merely glared.

She chewed the inside of her cheek bloody to keep from saying something that would end their association without even a letter to the owner of the bloody Minerva Press.

David again tapped the bundle. “Well?”

You are so often your own enemy, my dearest Lori. The next time you are tempted to behave hastily, take just a moment to consider the result of your actions.

Lori clamped her jaws tighter as her friend Freddie’s voice echoed in her head.

One thousand and one.

One thousand and two.

David lifted his eyebrows, his expression one of mild amusement mixed with impatience. “I’m waiting for an answer, Lori.”

“Don’t give the assignment to anyone else. I have some other ideas about Severn that I shall pursue,” she lied.

Fortunately, David didn’t bother to inquire as to what those ideas were. “Good,” he said, his smile insufferable. “While I cannot share my informant’s identity, he has assured me that the killer was somebody Lord Perseverance knew.”

Lori’s jaw sagged. “Are you saying you know who the killer is?”

“No, I am most certainly not.”

“But your informant does? If that is the case, then why—” she broke off when his expression began to turn ugly. “At least tell me this much: are you leaning toward Lord Severn as the guilty party?”

“You won’t get me to utter those words aloud—not even in the privacy of my office, my dear.”

So, yes, in other words. Lori felt sick to her stomach at the thought.

“I take it that you are aware both Lords Percy and Stand Fast were in love with the same woman—Lady Louise Sibley—so you should look into that.”

“She is recently deceased, so I probably won’t get much out of her.”

David’s eyes narrowed at her sarcastic comment. “I wasn’t suggesting you talk to her. I was pointing out all the rumors that swirled around about the three of them. Chiefly, that Lady Louise would have married Percy if not for his untimely death.”

“I know that,” she said, unintentionally echoing his own words and drawing a frown from him. She hastened to add, “Her father was pressuring her to marry Lord Percy because he was the heir. As things turned out, she married the Earl of Moreland after Stand Fast left England.”

“Have you gathered any information about why Stand Fast fled so hastily?”

She knew that David wanted her to say that Stand Fast had been driven from England either by his own guilt or by his grandfather’s banishment—or both—but Lori refused to utter the words. And she refused to believe it, either.

“I will keep looking,” she said instead.

His lips twisted into a bitter frown. “Are you sure you are up to this?”