Page 1 of Black Widow

Prologue

The blood spreadout like a ruby halo. It was a startling contrast to the white marble floor. It darkened the pink of her skirts, the white lace fringe soaked in a red so dark it was almostblack.

We should never have comehome.

“This is all my fault,” Amelia whispered. “What have I done?” She pulled her husband’s broken body closer until he was cradled in herarms.

She hadn’t moved from that spot at the foot of the stairs since returning from her round of afternoon calls. That was when she had found him—a nightmare in fulldaylight.

It was night now. Dusk had come and gone without her awareness. That was as it should be. Her world would be dark now. Her memory of other locations was faulty. Only this spot was solid earth, this and the grand staircase in front of her—the one she had so admired when they first let this house to be near ViscountWorthing.

How many stairs were there? She hadn’t counted them before. How could she not know how many stairs were in her home? And did everybody have this much blood? It covered the stones all around her in an endless pool. She was an island in a sea ofblood.

She and Martin should have stayed on the continent, in Italy where they had both been happy. She should have never let him convince her to come home. England was a cursed land, its society full of hypocrites and liars. It had taken her family and her home. And now it had taken Martin, her only solace in a life bereft of love andaffection.

She had nothingnow.

All around her, chaos reigned, but she barely took note of it. Servants ran to and fro, shouting, some weeping openly. Or was that her? She couldn’t tell. Her face was wet and her throat ached, so perhaps she was also crying. The only sensation in her numb body was in her hands, the ones clutching Martin’sshirt.

Amelia ignored the footman trying to make her let go of his body. Shrugging him off, she tightened her grip on her husband’s thinshoulders.

If she let go, they would take him away and he’d be goneforever.

So, she held on. She was still cradling Martin to her when the great shadow passed over them. Blinking, she looked up into the darkness over the stairs and saw the glowing yellow eyes staring back at her. The next second, they were gone. The darkness wasempty.

Chapter 1

A year later

“She’shere.”

Gideon Wells, Earl of Flint, schooled his expression until it had been wiped clean of all emotion. His stomach roiled, but there was no trace of the anger or disdain he felt knowing Amelia Montgomery had re-entered society, her year of mourning at anend.

It was an event he’d been waiting months for, ever since he had been recalled from thecontinent.

Gideon craned his neck, searching for Amelia’s dark curls, but the ballroom was crowded and he hadn’t seen her in years. He wasn’t sure what she looked like now. The last time he’d seen her she had been little more than achild.

“Lord Worthing is with her,” Clarkewhispered.

In a flash, Gideon’s composure was gone. He fisted his large hands and inhaledsharply.

“Steady, man,” Clarke said, raising a fine red eyebrow before casually looking away with a placidexpression.

“I’m fine,” Gideon lied, nearly choking on thewords.

He was as good as he was going to get knowing the woman who’d murdered his cousin was in this ballroom on the arm of her lover—the bastard who no doubt had helped her killMartin.

His heart ached at the injustice. His cousin had only been three and twenty when he died. Gideon remembered Martin as a slight and sweetly spoken youngman.

Though he had visited the Montgomery estate in Northumberland as a youth, their difference in age had kept them at arm’s length until Martin had gotten older. They had grown close when his younger cousin had attended the Abingdon School, near Gideon’s family home in Oxfordshire. Martin had often come for weekend visits. When he had, he’d spoken warmly of Amelia, his father’s ward. Gideon had liked her on principal. He’d been pleased Martin had a friend at home. Sir Clarence, his uncle, was a dour and cold man, overly concerned with his position in society, the kind who looked down on those beneathhim.

Once upon a time that had included Gideon himself. Sir Clarence hadn’t approved of the match his younger sister Anne had made. But things were different now. A series of accidental and premature deaths on his father’s side of the family had resulted in Gideon inheriting an earldom along with several prize estates. Sir Clarence had been forced to eat his words about his father. In fact, the last time Gideon had seen him, Sir Clarence had even hinted he would like to visit Tarryhall, the Earl of Flint’s family seat inDerbyshire.

Martin had never seen his new estate. He had married Amelia when Gideon was still abroad in France. By the time Gideon returned, his cousin had already departed for the continent with his bride—something Sir Clarence still spoke of withbitterness.

Gideon thought the couple’s return would settle some of his uncle’s ruffled feathers, but the old man was still bitter. Clarence complained they had settled too far from home, choosing to divide their time between London andKent.

He knew why now of course. Viscount Worthing’s principal estate was in Kent. Somehow, Amelia had manipulated Martin into settling a stone’s throw from her lover’s home. And no doubt his amiable cousin had seen nothing wrong with indulgingher.

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