A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy Wheeler (most read books of all time .TXT) 📕

out of the protective foliage, without drawing unwanted attention.

His hands dropped from her mouth and she hissed. “Bully.”  Lydia tried separating herself from his hold.

The embrace held firm. His voice inches from her ear penetrated the rising steam. “Lydia don’t be foolish. They were moving on to a different subject, anyway.”

Lydia could feel the warm puff of air at her nape. “How do you know?” Had breathing always been this hard around him?

Preston shook her gently. “Don’t think I’m completely ignorant. As you well know, I’ve also been the object of their malicious chatter. Hell, I’ve participated in a conversation or two, myself.”

A few steps returned them to the bright sunlight, causing Preston’s hair to once more shine like a gladiator’s helmet. He spun her body around and pinned her with his steady gaze. “Doesn’t matter who the narrator is. The pattern is always the same.” He held up a finger. “One, select an individual. Two, fish around for the most outrageous thing you've ever heard about them.” He added another finger. “Three, lower your voice forcing everyone to lean in. Four, drop the bomb.” Up went two more fingers. “Five, sweep up with a closing statement.” His open palm swept down like a broom.

Lydia’s eyes tracked the movement. As the Social Expert at the New York Sentinel, some of her best work had come from listening to errant tales. This had been different. Lydia shivered.

“Do you think it could be true?” Curse the hope in her voice.

His hand paused in midair, swept to her face and lifted her chin. “What? You mean your mother in a mental institution?”

She nodded.

“I don’t remember much about her death, but I think it was around the same time my mother died.” He paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Maybe Father knows something about it.”

Not terribly reassuring.

Preston goaded, “Why are you asking me, Weatherford? You’re the reporter.”

“Yes, of course. But this seems. I don’t know...possible. Why would everyone tell us she was dead? Why would she be in a mental ward?” Her damp cheek revealed unnamed emotion.

Lydia pinpointed brown flecks in his green eyes, as he focused on her dry lips.

“Whoa, don't get ahead of yourself.” His thumb wiped at the tear she hadn’t even noticed.

“Lydia, you’ve been at this awhile. How many rumors have you heard over the years?”

Hundreds. Lydia stepped back, arms across her midsection, pressing the mallet against her shoulder.

Uncle Victor told them Eleanor was dead. If it’s true, it could change everything. She met his eyes, unable to hide her confusion. “Preston, what should I do?” Her usual confidence shaken, Lydia turned to her best friend and her boss. Over the years he had remained a steadfast ally.

His signature stare indicated he was giving the question serious thought. Lydia shifted to her other foot.

He cocked his head, eyebrows lifted. “I think this situation is too close to home for you. If you want to get to the truth, you need to treat this rumor as though it’s about someone else’s family.” She searched his face. “Lydia, when you hear an unsubstantiated rumor, you have a fifty-fifty chance of proving it.” He hesitated, then added with a grin, “You have to be able to verify at least part of it, in order to publish it as fact.”

What was wrong with her? She couldn’t even crack a smile at the overused cliché.

Preston allowed her the necessary silence. Lydia studied the bucolic scene over his shoulder, pondering his words. Of course! The rumor might have been about any one of the local high society families, currently spread out across the manicured lawn, enjoying ice cream and punch.

What would I do? Investigate. I do it all the time. Glancing over her shoulder at the gossipmongers that had altered her afternoon, and perhaps the rest of her life, Lydia’s body buzzed. She lifted her chin and pressed her shoulders back. Where should I start? What do I have to work with?

Preston groaned. “I suppose we’re done here. You have that bloodhound look now.” He pried her grip from around the wooden handle. “I’ll return that.” He raised his arm and pointed his finger across the vast lawn. “Go ahead. Find out if it’s true.”

Three strides into her run, his parting words tickled her ears. “Let me know if you need my help.”

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my sisters, Terry Andrews and Sanxie Bea Cooper for all the hours and not taking things personal when it came to critiques, edits, lessons. This has been a long journey, but in many ways brought us closer than we already are. Many thanks to CJ Obray for her excellent edits, and Krysta Scott and Alicia Dean for their critiques and read-throughs. It really does take a village… for all endeavors of life. I love you all.

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Books by

Kathy L Wheeler

Rebel Lords of London

The Earl’s Error

The Marquis’ Misstep

The 7th Son

The Viscount’s Vendetta

Lady Felicity’s Feud with Christmas (Regency Christmas Kisses anthology)

The Weatherford Sisters Mysteries

A Bullet to the Heart – Kathy L Wheeler

Hanging by a Threat – Terry Andrews

Fatal Drip of Wisdom – Sanxie Bea Cooper

A Dagger Cuts Deep – Kathy L Wheeler

Mail Order Bride Series:

The Counterfeit

The Breakaway (IDA finalist)

The Betting Billionaires

Coming soon:

Fool’s Fortune

Fool Hearty

Fool’s Gold

Foolishness

Blooming Series

Quotable (IDA finalist)

Maybe It’s You

Lies That Bind

Martini Club 4 Series

Reckless — The 1920s and Pampered — The 1940s

Other fun novellas

Nose Job – Scrimshaw Doll Tale

The Mapmaker’s Wife – Civil War Novella (IDA Winner Historical Short)

Blood Stained Memories – A World of Gothic novella

Trust In Love – Four Holiday Shorts

Kae Elle Wheeler

Cinderella Series

The Wronged Princess – book i

The Unlikely Heroine – book ii

The Surprising Enchantress – book iii

The Price of Scorn: Cinderella’s Evil Stepmother

The English Lily (Kae Elle Wheeler) – Scrimshaw Doll Tale

About the Author

Kathy L Wheeler graduated from the University of Central Oklahoma with a BA in Management Information Systems and a minor in Vocal Music.

She loves the