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evening had been particularly trying. First, her sister-in-law had called. It was an infrequent event, but it did happen, and their barely concealed animosity was never pleasant to endure. Angelina had offered tea; Margaret had accepted. They’d sat there, sipping in genteel dislike, and she’d wondered the entire time why they needed to keep up the façade of friendship when in truth, they hadn’t even liked each other when Angelina had been married to Margaret’s brother. Then, when Thomas’s sister had departed, another visitor had arrived, at an extremely unfashionable time.
    But there was no way in heaven she would refuse an audience with Lady Heathton.
    The earl’s wife was a slender woman with rich, dark hair, unusual blue eyes, and a pale, perfect complexion. Angelina had been in seclusion during the countess’s debut, but it was easy to imagine Heathton’s wife had been a sensation, and while she’d never doubted his intelligence, his instincts as a man went up in her estimation.
    “Please have a seat,” Angelina said as graciously as possible, wondering just what his lordship had told his wife.
    Surely her visit to him and this call so soon afterward were connected.
    “Thank you.” Alicia Wallace chose a damask-covered chair in blue silk just a shade lighter than her eyes and settled into it. Quite obviously she was dressed for the evening in an elegant gown of white tulle embroidered with tiny leaves, dark yellow ribbon at the frothy sleeves, the theme suitable to the fall weather and certainly emphasizing her delicate beauty.
    Warily, Angelina asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Countess?”
    “I understand my husband is helping you clear your name.”
    “Oh?” She sat back, wrists deceptively relaxed on the arms of her chair. “I suppose my declarations of innocence are public knowledge anyway, but it would be gratifying to have proof.”
    “Ben told me.”
    Just how much
had
he told her? “It was very kind of him to consider offering me his aid. I’m uninterested in being a pariah the rest of my life. Can you blame me?”
    That was neutral enough. Also true.
    “I can see where that would wear thin quickly,” Lady Heathton said agreeably. “And, like you, I’d be more than concerned in finding out who had tampered with my life. What else can you tell me?”
    “What is it you wish to know?”
    The woman sitting across from her looked thoughtful and absently adjusted her elegant glove on her upper arm. “I suppose I’d like to know whatever you can tell me about the matter at hand. A hint at why you might be targeted for such malicious retaliation would be a good place to start.”
    “I told your husband—”
    “Only just enough to get him to look into the problem,” Lady Heathton said calmly. “I don’t blame you, as it is personal, and certainly sharing it with a male you don’t know well at all would be daunting. I wondered if you would find it easier to tell me more.”
    “He sent you?”
    “Well, no.” Alicia laughed lightly, shaking her head. “To be truthful, he forbade me to involve myself in any way. While I respect his wishes, I also have a perfectly functioning mind and if I can help, I would like to. Sometimes men are blinded by small prejudices and preconceived notions about our sex in general.”
    Then and there, Angelina started to like her uninvited guest. Twice married, she’d never had such self-assurance. “You aren’t worried he’ll be angry?”
    “A little,” she admitted with charming candor. “Actually, I would wager I will get a stern lecture when he learns of this visit, but he is a fair man and if this proves fruitful, he will duly acknowledge that.”
    No doubt the earl was not entirely convinced she wasn’t a murderess, Angelina thought with a hint of resigned humiliation, which was why he forbade his wife to talk to her.
    “So,” Lady Heathton said, “what
could
be helpful? You initiated the meeting with Ben, so I assume you want the