Married By Mistake

cough miraculously. “Such a bad habit,” she said to no one in particular. “James smoked cigars when I met him, but he stopped eventually. He always felt it bespoke a lack of self-control.”
    Sam made a choking noise.
    Casey blinked. She’d never heard Eloise be anything less than charming.
    “But then,” her mother-in-law continued, “what would James have known about it? Given he was insane. ” She spoke lightly, but fixed Sam with a gimlet glare.
    The lawyer blushed, and Casey felt sorry for him. From the second he’d approached their table, it had been obvious he had a crush on Eloise. His harsh-edged self-assurance evaporated, and it seemed all he could do was open his mouth and insert both feet.
    “I didn’t say James was insane,” Sam mumbled. From somewhere, he dredged up a speck of his usual confidence. “I had a lot of respect for James, Eloise. You know that.”
    She nodded jerkily. But when she spoke, she still sounded hostile. “Then you won’t let Anna May get away with this, will you?”
    Sam looked as if he badly wanted to assure her that hell would freeze over before Anna May got to say anything against James in open court. But from the way he squirmed in his seat, Casey guessed the answer wasn’t that straightforward.
    “I believe Anna May has a sworn statement with regard to your husband’s state of mind. That statement is the basis of her case,” the lawyer said formally.
    Eloise gave a decidedly unladylike snort. “I’ll bet she has no such thing.”
    “Who made the statement?” Casey asked.
    The lawyer’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t anticipated what was surely an obvious question. Yet more evidence he didn’t think straight when Eloise was around. He shot a pleading look at Adam. “We should continue this discussion tomorrow.”
    “We want to know now,” Eloise said.
    Adam nodded at Sam to continue. The attorney closed his eyes as if in pain. “The statement is from one of the nonfamily directors of Carmichael Broadcasting. He had a conversation with another director, in which that director expressed a firm opinion that James Carmichael had lost his mind.”
    “Which other director?” Adam and Eloise demanded simultaneously.
    Sam slumped in his seat and raised his hands, conceding defeat to the forces ranged against him.
    “It was you, Adam.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    A S C ASEY AND E LOISE stared at Adam, a flash of white light blinded them.
    “Thanks, folks.” A photographer, a man Casey recognized from the crowd who’d gathered at the TV studio after their wedding, slipped his camera back into its case. “Enjoy your meal.”
    Lunch pretty much fell apart after that.
    Adam began to deny the accusation, then he went beet-red and clammed up.
    Eloise’s eyes filled with hurt. She stood up. “I can ignore Anna May’s poison—that woman’s always been a fool. But, Adam, for you to say such a thing about your father, a man who, whatever you may think, loved you. The finest, most intelligent man I’ve known...” She stopped, and Casey saw her throat working with emotion. “ That is a betrayal.” She slipped her purse off the back of her chair, then asked a passing waiter to bring her coat. “Thank you for lunch,” she said with her usual good manners, “but I plan to take a taxi home.”
    The other two Merry Widows glared at Adam—extending their hostility to encompass Casey by association—with a ferocity that made Casey hope neither of them was packing a weapon.
    Sam sprang to his feet. “Eloise, how can I help you? You shouldn’t be alone if you’re upset. I can take you—”
    Eloise gave him a look that said he’d done enough, and stalked out of the restaurant.
    Celeste and Beth left with her, while Adam settled the bill. Casey followed him outside, where the valet reluctantly relinquished the newly repaired Aston Martin.
    Adam pulled out into the traffic with a screech of tires. From the passenger seat, Casey cast him a sidelong glance. A frown darkened his face, and his chin jutted forward.
    “What?” he demanded.
    She spread her hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
    “You didn’t have to,” he grumbled. “I can see you think I’m a prize jerk.”
    “You’re certainly a contender,” she agreed. “But right now I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
    He managed a half smile. “Thanks, but it’s more than I deserve. I did tell John Hanson I thought Dad had lost his marbles. Years ago, a few months before the heart