Secret Star by Nora Roberts

just have to remain a disappointment to you, Aunt Helen.”
    â€œMy daughter would be alive if not for you.”
    Grace willed her heart to go numb. But it ached, and it burned. “Yes, you’re right.”
    â€œI warned her about you, told her time and again what you were. But you continually lured her back, playing on her affection.”
    â€œAffection, Aunt Helen?” With a half laugh, Grace pressed her fingers to the throb in her left temple. “Surely even you don’t believe she ever had an ounce of affection for me. She took her cue from you, after all. And she took it well.”
    â€œHow dare you speak of her in that tone, after you’ve killed her!” In the pampered face, Helen’s eyes burned with loathing. “All of your life you’ve envied her, used your wiles to influence her. Now your unconscionable life-style has killed her. You’ve brought scandal and disgrace down on the family name once again.”
    Grace went stiff. This wasn’t grief, she thought. Perhaps grief was there, buried deep, but what was on the surface was venom. And she was weary of being struck by it. “That’s the bottom line, isn’t it, Aunt Helen? The Fontaine name, the Fontaine reputation. And, of course, the Fontaine stock.Your child is dead, but it’s the scandal that infuriates you.”
    She absorbed the slap without a wince, though the blow printed heat on her cheek, brought blood stinging to the surface. She took one long, deep breath. “That should end things appropriately between the two of us,” she said evenly. “I’ll have Melissa’s things sent to you as soon as possible.”
    â€œI want you out of here.” Helen’s voice shook for the first time—whether in grief or in fury, Grace couldn’t have said. “You have no place here.”
    â€œYou’re right again. I don’t. I never did.”
    Grace stepped out of the alcove. The color that had drained out of her face rose slightly when she met Seth’s eyes. She couldn’t read them in that brief glance, and didn’t want to. Without breaking stride, she continued past him and kept walking.
    The drizzle that misted the air was a relief. She welcomed the heat after the overchilled, artificial air inside, and the heavy, stifling scent of funeral flowers. Her heels clicked on the wet pavement as she crossed the lot to her car. She was fumbling in her bag for her keys when Seth clamped a hand on her shoulder.
    He said nothing at first, just turned her around, studied her face. It was white again—but for the red burn from the slap—the eyes a dark contrastand swimming with emotion. He could feel the tremors of that emotion under the palm of his hand.
    â€œShe was wrong.”
    Humiliation was one more blow to her over-wrought system. She jerked her shoulder, but his hand remained in place. “Is that part of your investigative technique, Lieutenant? Eavesdropping on private conversations?”
    Did she realize, he wondered, that her voice was raw, her eyes were devastated? He wanted badly to lift a hand to that mark on her face, cool it. Erase it. “She was wrong,” he said again. “And she was cruel. You aren’t responsible.”
    â€œOf course I am.” She spun away, jabbing her key at the door lock. After three shaky attempts, she gave up, and they dropped with a jingling splash to the wet pavement as she turned into his arms. “Oh, God.” Shuddering, she pressed her face into his chest. “Oh, God.”
    He didn’t want to hold her, wanted to refuse the role of comforter. But his arms came around her before he could stop them, and one hand reached up to brush the smooth twist of her hair. “You didn’t deserve that, Grace. You did nothing to deserve that.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter.”
    â€œYes, it does.” He found himself weakening,drawing her closer, trying to will her