Suddenly Ingram’s presence in their box at the opera took on a new and deadly significance. Had the marquis, bitter toward his faithless wife, sent for Ingram to rid him of the heir who would not be his own? Ingram would not be seriously suspected, for no reason appeared to exist for him to want Louisa dead. Then when the investigation seemed to single out Allbury, had they chosen the dowager to be the sacrificial scapegoat? No, she couldn’t believe that. More likely the dowager had murdered Louisa and Allbury had killed her to avoid the scandal of trial and execution. That had to be the solution. And Lord Ingram had done no more than insist the dowager’s death had been suicide. Ingram could not be guilty. Not the man she knew—and had come to love. For several long minutes all other thoughts vanished from her mind. She loved him, with an aching longing that tore her apart. If he’d had any involvement in either murder she would not be able to bear it. Silently, she cursed herself.
