Prelude to Heaven Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Where?”
    The solicitor coughed nervously. “We don't know that yet, sir. As I said, these things take time.”
    “How much more time will you need?” The earl's voice took on an acerbic quality. “You've had three months already.”
    “Quite so, my lord, but we had been working under the assumption that Lady Aubry was hiding somewhere in England.”
    “The Season is nearly half over. Speculation about my wife's absence has been bandied about for weeks. To avoid further gossip, I was forced to make some paltry excuse and cancel the remainder of my time in London. I want her found, Trevalyn.”
    “We are making every effort. I will be journeying to France shortly to continue the search. There are not many places for a woman traveling alone to hide, even if she is dressed as a man.”
    The earl nodded and rose to his feet, indicating that the interview was at an end. “Find her, Trevalyn. I can't pretend she is ill and staying with my mother in Northumberland forever. As I've told you before, I don't care what it costs. As long as you are discreet, I don't care how many men you have to hire or bribe. Find her. Your family has served mine well for many years. I would hate for that tradition to be broken.”
    Martin swallowed the lump of dread in his throat and closed his case. Rising to his feet, he turned and left. As the carriage rolled down the road toward London, Martin Trevalyn knew that if he did not find Lady Aubry soon, he'd be the one cleaning out stables.
     
    ***
     
    Nigel paced across the Axminster carpet of the library after the solicitor had gone, his anger growing with every step. He reached up to touch the scar that slashed across his temple, the one everyone thought he'd gotten in a riding accident. His physician knew the graze of a bullet, of course, but only Nigel knew who had shot him.
    His eyes scanned the family portraits that hung above the recessed shelves of books. No breath of scandal had ever touched the Aubry name. Nigel met the painted eyes of his father and vowed it never would. His explanation of illness about his wife’s continued absence would not satisfy the ton’s relentless curiosity for long. Despite his mother’s cooperation, someone would be bound to eventually discover that Teresa was not in Northumberland. It was only because so many people were in London for the Season that no one had yet unearthed the fact. If he didn't find her soon, people might begin to suspect that she had actually left him.
    His gaze moved from the portrait of his father to the pair of rapiers that hung above the fireplace, their points crossed over his family coat of arms. His ancestors had defended their honor with weapons of steel, but how could he fight rumor and scandal? Wagging tongues could not be silenced at the point of a sword.
    Nigel scowled. He would find Teresa, and when he did, he'd make certain she never put his reputation at risk again.
    He thought of Trevalyn blinking behind his spectacles like a sleepy frog. “These things take time, Lord Aubry,” he mocked the fat solicitor's tiny voice. How long could it take to find one stupid girl?
    His gaze moved on to the portrait of his wife which hung to the right of the fireplace. He stared into her huge green eyes and studied her finely molded features, and before he even knew what was happening, the poker from the fireplace was in his hand. He laid a vicious gash across his wife's heart, and then another. And another. But the poker never touched her face. Not her beautiful face.
     
    ***
     
    Alexandre walked with long, impatient strides along the beach, his thoughts tumbling over themselves ceaselessly, like the waves against the rocks. He had told her no, and there was no changing his mind. As soon as she was well enough to travel, he'd give her some money and send her on her way.
    That resolve had barely passed through his mind before her words came back to him, floating on the sea breeze. I have nowhere else to go .
    He stopped