The Perfect Poison Read Online Free PDF Page A

caught him entirely by surprise.
    He supposed that, given her reputation, he had been anticipating a sleek, sophisticated lady with a façade of charm and polish that might just possibly conceal a venomous heart. Lucrezia Borgia had a certain reputation, after all.
    But Lucinda looked more like an absentminded, scholarly Titania, Queen of the Fairies. Her hair put him in mind of an exploded sunset. She had attempted to tame the frothy red curls with pins and a couple of ribbons but to little avail.
    Intelligence lit her features, transforming a face that would otherwise have been described as passable into one for which the only suitable word was riveting. He realized that he did not want to look away. She peered at him from behind the sparkling lenses of a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. Her eyes were a deep, fascinating shade of blue.
    She wore a long, many-pocketed leather apron over a plain gray gown. In one hand she gripped a pair of pruning shears. The long, sharp blades of the tool had the appearance of some bizarre medieval weapon designed to be worn by an armored knight. A number of other equally dangerous-looking implements were festooned about her person.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Shute,” Lucinda said. “We’ll take tea in the library, please.”
    Her voice was not at all fairy-like, Caleb decided, pleased. Instead of the irritatingly high tinkle of little elfin bells that so many women cultivated, her tone was warm, confident and determined. Energy radiated from her in an invisible aura. A woman of power, he thought.
    He had met other women with strong talents. They were not that uncommon at the higher levels of the Arcane Society. But something inside him responded to Lucinda’s energy in a way that was new and oddly unsettling. He had to fight the urge to move closer to her.
    “I’ll fetch the tea, ma’am,” Mrs. Shute said. She turned and went back through the doorway.
    Lucinda gave Caleb a cool, polite smile. He could feel the wariness in her. She was not certain that she had done the right thing by sending for him, he realized. Many clients developed reservations after making the appointment.
    “Thank you for coming here today,” she said. “I know you must be very busy, Mr. Jones.”
    “It was no imposition at all,” he said, mentally dismissing the long list of pressing projects and responsibilities that would otherwise have occupied his attention. “Happy to be of service.” It was certainly the first time he had ever said that to a client. He suspected it would be the only time.
    “Shall we go into the library?”
    “As you wish.”
    She untied her dirt-stained apron and slipped it off over her head. The ungainly assortment of tools and implements in the pockets clanked. He watched her strip off the thick leather gardening gloves. There was, indeed, a ring, he noticed, just as the press had reported. It was fashioned of heavy, intricately worked gold and decorated with dark blue lapis and an amber gemstone. The ring looked old and vaguely Renaissance in style. It was certainly large enough to conceal a small compartment, he thought, intrigued.
    She stopped in front of him and gave him an inquiring look.
    He realized that he was standing there, directly in her path, staring. He pulled himself together with a monumental effort of will and stepped aside to let her enter the library. When she went past him he deliberately heightened his senses, enjoying the little rush of energy that stirred the atmosphere. Oh, yes, definitely a woman of power.
    Lucinda seated herself behind a cluttered mahogany desk and indicated the chair across from her.
    “Please sit down, Mr. Jones.”
    She was defining their relationship quite clearly, he realized, amused; making it obvious that she perceived herself to be the one in command and that she intended to retain the upper hand in their association. He found the subtle, unspoken challenge as stimulating as her aura.
    He lowered himself into the chair she indicated.