Mrs. Drew Plays Her Hand Read Online Free PDF Page A

should knock first.
    And then the bed had turned to blood when he fired at his friend, who sobbed and pleaded for mercy. His hand was shaking; his aim was off. The doctors declared his friend a lucky man. Of course, he would likely never father children now, but that had elicited only a dry chuckle from Colonel Rand as he read the letter from his solicitor over a Spanish campfire six months later. The letter had also included information about the anticipated writ of divorce, which gradually worked its way up to the House of Lords while he fought through Spain and Lady Winn fornicated through at least a platoon of former friends and relatives, his and hers. She continued to spend his money at a dizzying speed that infuriated him almost more than her blatant infidelity. He wasn't a Yorkshireman for nothing.
    The actual trial and divorce decree had ended all that. Somehow Lady Winn had the misguided notion that he would be a gentleman and let her go after a slap on the wrist. To her furious dismay, he had paraded that platoon of lovers before the House of Lords and watched without a muscle twitching in his face as they described in great detail her peccadilloes. He sat there impassively, decorated in his medals, his arm in a sling from Bussaco, a betrayed hero, while the Lords threw her to the dogs.
    But now he was a divorced man, and no one would receive him, either. He stared at the lovely window a moment longer, watching it change color as the clouds maneuvered around the noonday sun outside. I suppose I should have kept her, he thought. At least I would still be received in places where I used to go with some pleasure. I could have done like so many of my generation and taken a mistress of my own. So what if our dishonor stank to heaven?
    He lowered his glance to the altar and knew that he could never have done that. Lord Winn rose to his feet, yawned and stretched, overlooking the frowns and stares of the few others at prayer in the cathedral. The trouble was, I actually listened to the archbishop when he spoke of loving, honoring, and obeying, he reflected to himself. They were more than words or hollow form to me, thank you, Lady Winn. Damn you, Lady Winn.
    He stalked down the center aisle, his hands clasped behind his back. The glow of candles at the side altar caught his eye and he went toward it. He tossed a shilling in the poor box and lit a candle from one already burning and replaced it carefully in its slot.
    For the life of him, he could not think of anything to propitiate heaven for. His existence was over at thirty-eight, and it only remained to keep going until death eventually caught up with that reality and relieved him of his burdens.
    But as he stood there, hypnotized a little by the flames, he knew that it was a sham. He could tell his friends and family that he never wanted a wife again, but he still could not lie to the Almighty. "A good woman, Lord," he said out loud. "Someone I can trust. Is there one anywhere?"
    He waited a moment for an answer, got none, turned on his heel and left the cathedral.

Chapter 3
    To his credit, Tibbie Winslow did not stare at her as though she had lost all reason and was frothing about the mouth. He rubbed his chin.
    "Come now, little lady?"
    The words tumbled out of her. "Oh, Mr. Winslow, please let me rent this place from you!"
    He shook his head. "I could'na do such a thing, Mrs. Drew! People would think me a sorry creature to rent you this run-down pile. I am sure if Lord Winn ever visits, he'll just tell me to put a match to it. No, Mrs. Drew." He waved a hand at her and started for the manor house.
    She hurried after him, resisting the urge to pluck at his sleeve and skip beside him, as Felicity would have done. "Please, Mr. Winslow. If you can replace the windows that have broken, and just fix the roof, I am sure I can do the rest."
    He stopped to stare then. "Mrs. Drew, that's a man's work!"
    "Well, sir, I have been doing a man's work for three years and more