So he could keep talking himself into this folly that had seemed so logical, so necessary when he had set out from London. Within the confines of his mind, Celia Burke had seemed a perfect demon of a woman, an easy and necessary target for his wrath. But as he waited and watched from the dark arbor, he was not so sure. He had made a career out of his ability to read men, to understand who they were and why they did the things they did. But his instincts were in constant and complete disagreement about Miss Burke. He simply could not take her measure. Emily had been sure in her letters, and so heartbreakingly devastated over Celia Burke’s betrayal, she had taken her own life. He could not allow himself to rest until he got to the bottom of what had happened between them. He found the arbor walk running along the perimeter of the walled garden, and chose a spot closest to the house to wait for Miss Burke. She came out by a small door in the south wing, prudently trying to avoid notice.
