The Sign of Death by Callie Hutton (i like reading .TXT) 📕

heads, and he used those occasions to remind her that she was too much like him. And then when she rejected marriage offers, he complained that she was too much like his sister, Margaret. Amy liked to think she was too much like herself. And she wanted to stay that way, thank you very much.

“I didn’t know you were coming for a visit. Why didn’t you write?” She turned to her brother, Michael, the image of her papa. They looked alike, walked the same way, used the same facial expressions, and had a similar stance. If it hadn’t been for the lines on Papa’s face and a few extra pounds he had gained over the years, they could have passed for twins. Papa had even retained his full head of hair, although it was streaked with silver.

“Michael, you too! I can’t believe you are both here.” She drew back from hugging her brother and turned to her papa. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, my dear. We’re here for Lady Wethington’s dinner.”

“Tonight?”

Papa draped his arm around her shoulders and led them to the library. “Is there more than one dinner?”

Amy shook her head, confused. “Not that I’m aware of, but I didn’t know Lady Wethington had invited the two of you.”

Aunt Margaret glided into the room. “Me as well.”

Amy swung around. “You too?”

A sinking feeling hit her stomach. Why in heaven’s name would Lady Wethington invite her entire family? She broke into a sweat when she came up with the most obvious reason. Surely William would not do something so foolish as to propose marriage in front of everyone? Lord, she felt like running to her room and hiding under the bed.

“Yes. The invitation came earlier in the week. I’m surprised that you are surprised.” Aunt Margaret looked closely at her. “Are you well, Amy? You look rather pale.”

“No. I am fine.” She tried a smile and doubted that she carried it off. She had to speak with William before this dinner tonight. Didn’t they have enough on their hands with this murder investigation without something as foolish as a marriage proposal in the middle of it all?

She turned her mind off and hurried back upstairs. Papa would never allow her to take the carriage to William’s house by herself. Yet she didn’t want to take Lacey or Aunt Margaret with her.

She grabbed Persephone, found her leash, and hurried downstairs. “I’m taking Persephone for a walk,” she called out to whoever was still in the library. She shrugged into her coat and opened the door.

And was met with a virtual downpour.

She stomped her foot like a toddler and didn’t even care if someone saw her. From the voices coming from the library, it appeared that her brother, papa, and aunt were in a lively discussion and had forgotten about her.

Sucking in a deep breath, she looked at the carriage still parked at the end of the pavement. The driver, Malcolm, was just starting to move the horses forward toward the mews at the back of the house. With a quick look over her shoulder, she raced down the stairs, dragging Persephone, who howled the entire way.

“Lord Wethington’s house, Malcolm.” She jumped in and kept staring at the front door, waiting for Papa to come barreling out to stop her.

Once they were on their way, she took a deep breath and let it out. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, all of them scrambled. She wasn’t even sure William was at home, and if he wasn’t, whatever would she say to Lady Wethington about her visit without sounding like a half-wit?

She tapped on the carriage ceiling. Malcolm slid open the small door in the roof and looked down at her. “When we arrive at Lord Wethington’s home, please drive around to the back first to make sure his carriage is there.”

The good servant that he was, Malcolm merely nodded and continued on his way, the rain dripping off the brim of his hat. It occurred to her now that Malcolm might have been parked at the front of her house waiting for Papa or Michael to go somewhere. No, she assured herself. The man had definitely been moving the horses toward the mews. She gave her full attention to the prospect of speaking with William.

The traffic had been light, so they arrived at the Wethington townhouse sooner than she would have thought. Once she was free of the carriage, with Persephone wailing in distress, she hurried up the steps. A man Amy had not seen before opened the door and gave her a slight bow.

“I am Lady Amy Lovell, here to see Lord Wethington.” Her words came out breathless from her jaunt up the steps. She stepped into the house as he moved back. “Is he at home?”

“I shall check, my lady.” He waved toward the drawing room. “If you will be so kind as to wait here, I will see.”

As he started to move away, she said, “Wait!”

Startled, the man turned back. “Yes, my lady?”

She moved closed to the man and lowered her voice. “Is Lady Wethington at home?”

“I shall check on that also.”

“No!”

His eyebrows rose. Good gracious, the man must think her a lunatic. Like all good servants, however, he merely stopped and stared at her with no indication that he thought there was anything odd about her behavior. She could picture him laughing wildly when he returned to the servants’ quarters and told all and sundry about the daft woman who had just called on his master.

“I, um … I do not wish to, um, disturb her.” She patted her upper lip with her gloved finger. Why did she always get herself into these messes?

“Very good, my lady.” He bowed again and left the room.

She paced as she waited for William to arrive. She glanced out the window, the rain still coming down in torrents, as if she should be preparing for another great flood.

At the sound of footsteps, she turned, then breathed a sigh of relief when William