Brazen by Susan Johnson

of her sister-in-law's newest lover. "Let's just say it would be more pleasant if you did." "Are you threatening us?" Beatrice exploded. "As a matter of fact, I am, and I'm in a damned hurry. I need your brother's direction." His voice went very soft. "And I need it now." "Don't be ridiculous," Gwendolyn snapped. "We know who you are. My brother wants nothing to do with you." "Look," he said with exasperation, wishing he could threaten them physically and be done. "I don't really have time to wait for a constable to get here. If you're attached to that rather hideous Poussin over there," he went on, unclasping a small gold pocketknife from his watch chain, "you might want to tell me your brother's direction." "You're mad!" Gwendolyn cried, watching him move toward the large painting on the wall. "Not like your brother, but at the moment, equally dangerous. I intend to find out where he is. Why don't I start with this corner," Kit said, indicating a figure of a shepherd on a bucolic background. And he opened the blade of the knife with cool deliberation. "He's at Wickem House, Mr. Braddock," a voice from the doorway declared. Kit turned to see an elderly lady standing at the door. She was small, slender, still dressed in her bonnet and pelisse; her eyes were grave. "I just returned from a hastily called meeting with our trustees. They were told by your Mr. Chambers a preliminary answer was required by morning. You're being very generous." "He's taken Angela. Did you know that?