Page 29 of The Bride Wore White

“Do you know anything about Copeland Dover?”

“No. He died when I was just a little girl. But I do know there was general agreement that Copeland Dover’s passing was not a great loss to the world.”

“The eccentricity problem.”

“Yep.”

Jack leaned back in his chair. “What else can you tell me about Clara Dover?”

“She has no patience with people who fail to perform to her satisfaction. I believe that group includes almost everyone on the planet. I’m sure that’s why she kept rotating through various psychics.” Prudence paused, thinking. “It will come as no surprise to hear that she is rumored to be a very demanding employer. With the exception of her housekeeper, who, I was told, has been with her forever, there is a high turnover on her staff.”

“Did that information come from the psychic circuit?”

Prudence smiled. “Nope. That gossip came from Mrs.Hanks, the housekeeper who looked after Grandma and me. People in that line of work have their own gossip circuits. When Mrs.Hanks found out I was booking sessions with Clara, she advised me to get my fees up front. Clara Dover has a well-earned reputation for refusing to pay for services she deems unsatisfactory.”

“I keep coming back to Rollins Dover. Any rumors of eccentricities or a violent temper?”

“Rollins?” She shook her head, thinking. “Not that I know of. I don’t recall any particular psychic circuit gossip about him, not like there was about Gilbert.”

“You mentioned that there was a high turnover on Clara Dover’s staff with the exception of a devoted housekeeper. Ever meet her?”

“Maud Hollister, yes. She accompanied Clara to some of the readings, but she always waited in the reception room. I got the impression that Clara relies on her the way one would rely on a confidential secretary. I think most people felt sorry for her. She always seemed sad and bitter.”

“Is there a Mr.Hollister?”

Prudence hesitated and then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember a wedding ring. But as I said, I really don’t know anything about her except that everyone said she was the one loyal member of Clara’s household staff.”

“Huh.”

“Come up with something interesting?”

“I find it fascinating that a woman who built an empire is in the habit of consulting psychics.”

Prudence went with her charm-the-client smile. “Fakepsychics.”

Chapter 13

The ironic thing about this situation is that I have been hoping to spend a night here at the Paradise ever since my friend Maggie told me about it,” Prudence said. She surveyed the dramatically shadowed interior of the nightclub. “I just assumed the experience would be under somewhat different circumstances. I suppose this is a classic example ofbe careful what you wish for.”

Jack studied her from the opposite side of the intimate booth and concluded that he had been right that afternoon when he met her in Luther’s office. Prudence Ryland was a problem, not because her case was complicated—he relished complex investigations—but because he was no closer to finding an appropriate category for her.

The metamorphosis from the cool, aloof, professional woman he had met that afternoon to the mysterious lady in black tonight was a case in point. She was wearing a column of flowing black silk studded with crystals that she had picked up during the shopping venture. He had been prepared to spend hours waiting in the Packard that afternoon while she browsed, but she had sped throughBurning Cove’s boutiques with the ruthlessness of an FBI raid on a gangster’s hideout.

Belatedly it dawned on him that she had taken no pleasure in the task, and for some reason that was... disappointing. Damned if he knew why.

She might not have enjoyed the shopping, but the costume change had definitely worked. In Luther’s office she had been a modest, unassuming professional spinster in a tailored suit. Tonight she was a dramatic, mysterious vision in black. The crystals on her gown caught the candlelight. The long black gloves made every move of her hand a captivating little dance. The spectacles were gone. Her fascinating eyes glowed behind a black net veil.

It was all an act, he reminded himself. Except for the eyes. The compelling mysteries they concealed were very, very real.

There was something else that felt real, too—her reaction to his scars. He had caught no hint of quickly veiled revulsion or pity, both of which he had learned to recognize instantly. She had noticed the damage on the left side of his face—it would have been impossible not to—and then moved on.

She appeared to have immediately forgotten the horror mask he would wear for the rest of his life, and that made it possible for him to forget it, too, at least when he was with her—just as he did when he was with Luther and Raina.

He found himself wanting to savor what felt like a couple of stolen hours in the company of a fascinating woman in a darkened nightclub. He had, after all, spent the past five months and three days—not that he was counting—without any female companionship. He had been alone with his books, his manuscript, and his nightmares for a very long time.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the situation was that he had been just as riveted by Prudence Ryland that afternoon, when she had been playing a very different role, as he was tonight. Thecombination of her acting ability and his reawakened interest in sex was a dangerous mix, the kind of volatile situation that could make a man reckless.

He raised his martini in a small salute to the transformation that had come over her. “If it makes you feel any better, you look like you hang out in nightclubs like the Paradise on a regular basis,” he said.

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