Read Shady Lady for Free Online Page A

“You
know
him?”
    “I
met
him, once, last year, when I was visiting Roger and Liza.”
    “Roger. Your son. My cousin?”
    “Yes, dear. Why do you look so surprised?”
    “You never mentioned it to me!”
    “Oh, but I did. He was the gentleman who took me in to supper, you know, when Roger promised but forgot all about me.”
    Jo remembered the incident, but she’d forgotten the gentleman’s name. It was before Mr. Bowman began to figure prominently in Chloë’s reports.
The nice gentleman with the limp
was how her aunt had described him, and Jo had formed the impression of a kindly old gentleman who had indulged in a mild flirtation with a lonely old lady.
    She looked at her aunt. “
That
was Waldo Bowman?”
    Mrs. Daventry giggled. “I was the envy of every woman there. Oh, I know he’s a rogue, but he’s not a scoundrel.
He
can’t help it if he has a way with women. And as far as I know, that’s the only vice he has.” There followed a long, languorous sigh. “I can honestly say that the hour I spent in Mr. Bowman’s company was the highlight of my visit. If only I’d been ten years younger—well, maybe twenty years younger.”
    Brows knit, Jo stared at her aunt. Aunt Daventry was supposed to be like her—sane, sensible, and levelheaded. That’s why they got on so well. In all the years she’d known her aunt, she’d never known her to giggle or simper. She didn’t know if she could bear it.
    “Lord, child, there’s no need to scowl. He made an old woman happy for an hour or two. What’s wrong with that?”
    “Nothing,” replied Jo in a tone of voice that implied the opposite.
    “Mmm.” Mrs. Daventry gazed absently at the passing scenery. Finally, she said, “I will say this, though: There’s a mystery there. What I mean is, Mr. Bowman works in some capacity at the Home Office, but he never speaks of it. No one knows what he does.”
    “Aunt, you got that from Chloë’s column, and you know Chloë. She exaggerates to make her subjects sound more interesting than they really are.”
    “Did I? I believe you’re right. But there are some things I
do
know about him. He’s the only son in a family of five. Maybe that’s why he appeals to women. He understands us.”
    Jo laughed. “With four sisters, I bet he was spoiled past redemption. Poor Mrs. Bowman, with four daughters to marry off.”
    “It’s not Mrs. Bowman. It’s Lady Fredericka. She is the daughter of an earl. As for the father, Mr. Bowman, he is very well connected, though, to be sure, he doesn’t have a title. And only the youngest girl, Cecy, is unmarried. She’ll be making her come-out this year.”
    Jo was not only amused, she was amazed. “Aunt,” she said, “how do you know so much about him?”
    “From Mr. Bowman himself, when he took me in to supper. And before you say something derogatory about him, no, he’s not one of those men who only talks about himself. All he did was answer my questions.”
    Jo threw up her hands. “I didn’t say a word.”
    Her aunt quickly retorted, “I can read your mind.”
    The conversation moved on to other things, but Jo couldn’t get Chloë out of her mind. Had Chloë uncovered some damning secret about Waldo Bowman that he wanted to suppress? It made sense. It would explain Chloë’s cryptic letter as well as the break-in at the
Journal
.
    It made sense, but . . . She didn’t want it to make sense. For no good reason, she wanted to give Waldo Bowman the benefit of the doubt, and that annoyed her.
             
    The light was fading when they pulled into the stable yard of the Red Lion in Barnet. The landlord advised them that he had only one room left, and they were lucky to get it. It was always like this, he said, at dusk. There were few travelers who were willing to brave Finchley Common at night, so rooms were scarce at every posthouse.
    They didn’t feel lucky when the chambermaid led them upstairs to a dark, shabby little room at the back of the inn. After a