CHAPTER EIGHT
Outside InformationMRS.MORTON CAME BACK into the drawing room, an envelope in her hand. She looked ill-pleased.
“Clara,” she said, “you were to tell nobody.”
“It never entered my head that you could mean Cam, Aunt Angela. You told Tom.”
“Tom is my husband. You are not married to Cameron Payne yet, so far as I am aware.”
Payne said, in a light but masculine singsong that consorted admirably with his angelic coloring: “Easy does it, Mrs. Morton. I shan’t spread it.” There was nothing angelic about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, or about the teasing humor with which he looked at her. He stood carelessly leaning on his stick, poised on one foot, the other knee bent slightly. He wore a thin gray suit, the loose, fashionable cut of which seemed to min
