Page 1 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

WITH HER ELDER sisters now married, Miss Eudora Mifford had assumed the role of the eldest daughter of the Mifford household. It was a position she had always coveted, but like most longed-for ambitions, it was proving rather anti-climatic in practice.

Her disappointment in her new role stemmed mainly from the fact that her sisters, who each lived within a stone’s throw of Primrose Cottage, refused to afford her the respect her new title called for.

“Are you only rising now, Eudora?” Mary, the eldest of the sisters and now Duchess of Northcott, called disapprovingly as Eudora entered the kitchen. “Would that I had the time to be so idle. Oh, to be young and carefree…”

Eudora opened her mouth to offer a suitable response but was interrupted by Emily’s arrival through the garden door. The second youngest Mifford girl, now a marchioness, was wearing a very familiar-looking bonnet atop her blonde curls.

“That’s my bonnet,” Eudora cried, outraged by both the theft and her brazenness. If one was going to steal from one’s sister, one might attempt to be a little more circumspect.

“I was thinking when I put it on that it wasn’t mine,” Emily agreed, as she deposited herself at the kitchen table.

“Were you thinking at all to return it?” Eudora retorted, as Emily reached for one of the crumpets Nora had laid out for the expected visitors.

“Well, if I have your bonnet, that must mean that you have mine,” Emily reasoned as she applied a liberal layer of butter to her crumpet, “So once mine has been located, we shall make an exchange.”

“I am not responsible for finding your lost bonnet,” Eudora huffed. “It is not fair for you to hold mine to ransom; I am not responsible for your absent-mindedness.”

“There’s a very fetching bonnet in your wardrobe, Miss Eudora,” Nora said as she emerged from the pantry, “Perhaps that’s the one Lady Chambers is looking for?”

Eudora attempted to quell a blush, offering Nora an innocent look, “Oh, really? I did not note it; perhaps Mama tidied it away yesterday?”

Mercifully for Eudora, baby George let out a displeased cry, distracting Emily from further interrogating her about the misplaced bonnet.

“Oh, poor lamb,” Emily cooed as she went to fetch him from the bassinet in the corner of the room.

“Watch his head,” Mary squawked as her sister cradled George.

As George had almost reached a half-year, such advice was not entirely necessary. Emily rolled her eyes at her eldest sister’s fussing.

“You’ll understand when you have one of your own,” Mary muttered, slightly defensive, “They’re excessively delicate.”

George, who weighed almost as much as a hogget sheep and was exceptionally sturdy of build, took that moment to grab onto a loose strand of Emily’s hair and yank down hard.

In the ensuing fracas, in which Emily howled with pain and Mary with worry, Eudora helped herself to a crumpet and a cup of tea.

Really, she sighed; her sisters had so little consideration for her digestion.

“What’s all the fuss?” Jane, the second eldest sister called, as she strolled through the back door. She wore a billowing walking dress made of fine merino wool, which concealed her neat bump and, for a moment, their cousin Charlotte, who stood behind her.

“Baby George has gone on the rampage again,” Eudora supplied, earning herself a glare from Mary.

Jane, ever calm, strode across the kitchen and gently - but firmly - removed George’s fist from Emily’s hair.

“There,” she said with some satisfaction, “Now we can enjoy our tea in peace.”

“And I shall not be bald when the guests arrive,” Emily added as she smiled at George, who was now chewing on his hand.

“Have you any idea what time to expect them, Jane?” Mary asked as the sisters seated themselves around the table.

“Lord and Lady Albermay wrote to say that they would arrive this afternoon,” Jane replied, “Lord Delaney is set to arrive earlier, though he did not specify exactly when.”

Eudora discreetly rolled her eyes. She found Lord Delaney—a close friend of the marquess—excessively irritating. It did not surprise her that the lackadaisical baron lacked the organisational skills to provide his hostess with even a vague travel itinerary.

“Captain Ledger is due this evening, after sundown,” Jane finished, referencing her husband’s friend from his seafaring days, “He’s traveling from Bristol.

The Dowager Duchess has invited an old friend, Lord Percival, to keep her company while us young folk frolic - her words, for I can’t imagine much frolicking.

Finally, a Mr Lowell, whom Ivo wishes to speak to about his investments in the textile industry, is also due this afternoon - though he shan’t stay for the duration of the party. ”

“How nice it will be to see Lady Albermay again,” Emily declared. The sisters had become acquainted with the viscountess - an American heiress - during the previous season when Emily had been accused of murdering one of the guests at her ball.

“Yes, she’s the person whom I look forward to seeing most,” Eudora agreed tactfully. In truth, the guest list sounded terrifically dull to her ears, filled as it was with men who would do little but smoke cheroots and partake in hunting on the Crabb estate.

“I dare say that you’re the person whom Lord Delaney is looking forward to seeing the most,” Emily interjected, her blue eyes dancing.

Eudora flushed with annoyance; she could not stand her sisters trying to matchmake on her behalf.

Especially when they attempted to pair her up with a man who had spent the season oblivious to her until her Mama had forced her into dressing à la mode instead of à la grand-mère - Mrs Mifford’s exact words to describe Eudora’s past penchant for attempting to appear older than her years.

Her cane and spectacles had been confiscated, never to be seen again.

A pity, for the cane might have come in handy for poking at Lord Delaney should he dare to come too close.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful, Eudora, if you were to find yourself married too?” Charlotte interjected dreamily, “I expect you won’t feel so left behind when you have a husband and home of your own.”

“I-I don’t feel left behind,” Eudora stuttered.

How could she feel left behind when she had finally assumed the position of eldest daughter of the house?

“Oh,” Charlotte blinked, “I just thought, what with all your sisters married, Mary with a baby, and Jane expecting, that you might feel a little left out. Why, they’ve all solved a murder, too, now that I think of it!”

Eudora opened and closed her mouth as she struggled to find a suitable reply that would not earn her soul a black mark. Mercifully, Jane - ever levelheaded - swept to the rescue.

“Eudora will marry when she meets someone worthy of her hand,” Jane interrupted, smiling at her youngest sister. “As for solving a murder, I hope that’s one accomplishment she does not feel the need to emulate. Tell me, Charlotte, have you heard from your Mama?”

Charlotte let out a displeased sigh as she nodded her head.

“Just last week,” she informed them, “She wanted to know if I had met any eligible bachelors in Plumpton and also inquired if your husbands have many bachelor friends. She warned me not to return to Stow-on-the-Wold unless I had a ring on my finger.”

Eudora’s ill feeling toward Charlotte melted - slightly - at her words.

Her mother, their father’s sister, was a meddling woman who had not been happy to learn of her nieces’ successful marriages.

She had sent Charlotte to Plumpton under the auspices of acting as Jane’s companion during her confinement, but really - as Mrs Mifford repeatedly declared to anyone who would listen - it was to try to marry the girl off.

“You have a home with us here,” Jane consoled her, “There’s no need to rush into finding a husband, Charlotte.”

“Yes, I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it,” Charlotte agreed cheerfully, demonstrating both her resolute good nature and unfortunate habit of using malaphors.

Any further discussion of marriage - for either of the table’s single ladies - was cut short by the arrival of Mrs Mifford, back from her morning jaunt to town.

“There he is, my lovely boy,” Mrs Mifford cooed as she swept across the room to remove George from Emily’s arms.

“We’re here too, Mama,” Eudora pointed out dryly, for she had roundly ignored them all.

“Yes, but George is always happy to see me, unlike you lot,” Mrs Mifford explained as she made funny faces at her grandson.

George’s face was alight with happiness as he smiled at his grandmother. He waved his sausage arms in the air, his pudgy cheeks spreading into a grin.

“Who’s a handsome boy?” Mrs Mifford cooed, earning a proud smile from Mary.

“Not only is he handsome, but he’s also very clever,” Mary informed them, most seriously, “I am aware that most people believe their offspring to be prodigies, but I believe George might actually be one; just yesterday, he attempted to say pulchritudinous. He didn’t quite get there as he started spitting up his milk, but both Northcott and I heard it. ”

This news was met by an incredulous silence from her audience.

“Are you certain that he wasn’t simply gurgling, rather than attempting a five-syllable word?” Jane ventured, gently.

“I’m most certain,” Mary answered, her chin set stubbornly, “Just ask Northcott; he heard it too.”

The serious and sombre Duke of Northcott could usually be called upon to substantiate some of Mary’s wilder claims. When it came to George, however, the duke’s brain was as love-addled as that of his wife’s.

“Well,” Jane answered, with a slight smile, “I expect that when George does manage to form his first word, we shall require a dictionary to decipher it.”

“Guh,” George agreed happily, peppering his attempts at speaking with a liberal dash of dribble.

“I thought I’d married most of you off,” Mr Mifford grumbled as he strode into the kitchen clutching an empty cup. “Don’t you all have homes of your own in which to loiter?”