Chains of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

adulterer.” Lady Winstead smacked his arm with her cane. “You cheated on her.”
    “No, I did not. We’ve been on-again, off-again for years, and we’ve both made our mistakes, but when we were together, we were together . There was no cheating from either of us.” He spoke clearly and forcefully.
    “I’m glad to hear that. I hate the underhandedness of a cheater.” She rubbed his arm in apology. “You two should give it another try. Get married this time. I know it’s old-fashioned, but there’s something about standing in the eyes of God and making vows that binds you more tightly. Makes you work out your problems.”
    “She isn’t interested.”
    “Piffle. I saw her look at you. I saw you look at her. And I’m not so old I can’t feel the heat when I’m standing by a blast furnace.”
    He chuckled. “No one in his right mind would ever call you old or unobservant.”
    “Isabelle is single. You’re single. Think about it,” she urged.
    “I most certainly will.”
    “I’ve enjoyed our little chat.” Lady Winstead was leaning heavily on her cane, her usual erect posture sagging. “But as I said, since the accident, I’ve not been my usual bouncy self.”
    “Can I take you to your car?” He offered his arm.
    “That sounds lovely, but Todd said he would accompany me home.”
    “Todd.” Unspoken was Samuel’s addition of, That insignificant little worm .
    But Lady Winstead was sharp, and she heard the reaction in his tone. “He’s not worth much. I’ve never understood how one of my grandchildren could be satisfied doing nothing, but he is. At least he makes himself useful when I need an escort.”
    Samuel scanned the ballroom. Todd, of course, was nowhere to seen. One thing Samuel knew Todd could always be depended on to do was to be undependable. “Todd’s a big boy.”
    “Forty.” Lady Winstead rolled her eyes.
    “He can get himself home. Why don’t I tell your chauffeur to bring the car around?” She was going to resist, he could see, so he gave her mind a little push.
    She wavered.
    He gave another push.
    She sighed and nodded. “That would be pleasant.”
    He gestured a server over and gave him the instructions, then turned her toward the door.
    “You know,” Lady Winstead said, “my family moved from Oklahoma to California during the dust bowl. We worked in the orchards and got our educations.”
    “I didn’t know.” A lie; he had heard the story more than once.
    “By the time I met Lord Winstead, I owned my own flower store. All that youthful experience—I hesitate to call it hardship, although I guess it was—taught me how to work and the value of an occupation. Todd thinks I should pay for him when he flies with me to a party. First-class. On my nickel. I do so miss Lord Winstead on occasions like these.” She patted Samuel’s arm. “Not that you aren’t an admirable substitute.”
    “I’m delighted to assist you.” He helped her into her coat and carefully wrapped her scarf around her sagging throat. “And devastated to lose your company so soon.”
    Her bright blue eyes scrutinized him. “Such pretty manners. If I were fifty years younger . . .”
    “You’d be too young for me.” He steered her outside into the cold, windy night. “I like a little maturity in my women.”
    “Do you ever run out of the soft soap?”
    “God forbid. I’m a lawyer.”
    She chortled as he helped her into the backseat of her limousine. “Next time you’re in Boston, stop by for a visit. I do enjoy our conversations.”
    “I’m living in New York City now. . . . Let me know when you’re in town and free, so I can take you to dinner and a play.”
    She chortled again, an old-lady snort of amusement; then he stood and waved while the chauffeur drove her away.
    Sticking his hands in his pockets, he huddled his shoulders and stared out at the landscape. The scene out here resembled a bad painting; whipped by the wind, record-breaking snows grew to great drifts against