Page 15 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)
AFTER SPENDING A night in which his only bedfellow was regret, Rob awoke in an irritable mood the next morning.
“Would you rather the burgundy or oxblood waistcoat, my lord?” Higgins enquired mildly as he assisted Rob with dressing.
“I hardly think it matters; they’re one and the same,” Rob groused. How could he be expected to care about waistcoats when he had missed the perfect opportunity to kiss Miss Mifford?
The ensuing silence let Rob know that he had crossed a line with his loyal valet. Higgins could tolerate many things - drunkenness, laziness, even the odd sharp word - but questioning the importance of matters sartorial was beyond the pale.
“Forgive me,” Rob apologised, most formally, “I should not have questioned the difference between the two - your eye is far more refined than mine.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Higgins replied stiffly.
“Nor should I have spoken so shortly,” Robert added.
“No apology needed, my lord,” Higgins answered, his mood much improved following Rob’s grovelling, “Short wicks are to be expected when one is trapped inside a house with a murderer. Why, last night at dinner, the late Lord Albermay’s valet was in quite a stormy temper.”
“Why so?” Rob asked, his interest piqued.
“Allen, the butler of the house, announced that Lord Crabb intended to interview the staff about the murder,” Higgins answered as he assisted Rob with shrugging on the oxblood waistcoat.
“Why should he be annoyed by that?” Rob wondered aloud, “It is unlikely he committed the crime.”
“Perhaps that is why he is so vexed,” Higgins guessed, “The man is nearly as old as his late master and had been serving Lord Albermay for almost three-quarters of his years. It indicates that he is a man of great loyalty.”
“And great patience,” Rob snorted, recalling the late viscount’s decidedly cruel mien.
Silence fell as both men attended to the final intricacies of his toilette; Higgins tied a stiff, white cravat into a neat knot while Rob attended to the buttons on his waistcoat and breeches.
“A servant as loyal as he might wish to keep one of his master’s possessions as a keepsake,” Higgins said as he ran a brush across the shoulders of Rob’s coat, removing specks of lint which only his keen eye could see.
“Do you think I should petition his son?” Rob answered, a little confused. Such matters were usually left to the family to decide upon themselves. Matters were awkward enough without Rob sticking his nose where it was not wanted.
“No, my lord,” the valet answered, stifling a large sigh, “I was speaking of the doll found upon his bed. Lord Albermay’s valet was likely the only person who knew that his master slept with a childhood toy. Perhaps he would be pleased to know that he can bring that secret with him to the grave?”
Higgins approached the tall washstand and retrieved the sorry-looking doll from the top drawer.
He handed it to Rob, who found himself inexplicably touched by the doll’s appearance.
It was a crude likeness to a little girl, made from a mish-mash of long faded materials. A gift, perhaps, from a nursemaid…
“Capital idea,” Rob agreed, tucking the doll into the inside pocket of his coat, “I shall corner him after luncheon and give it to him. Did Allen say when he would begin interviewing the staff?”
“After breakfast.”
“Keep an ear out,” Rob instructed, solemnly, “You never know what tiny piece of information might assist with catching the killer.”
“Of course, my lord,” Higgins promised, though his expression looked somewhat uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Rob pressed.
“Well, it’s just Lady Albermay’s maid, Miss Reid, came to me last night and asked me what she should say about her mistress’ stained dress…”
“And?” Rob raised a brow.
“I simply told her that she did not have to mention it unless specifically asked.” Higgins’ face was now puce. “It is not a lie not to offer up information which was not asked for; it is merely an omission.”
“A lie of omission, one might call it,” Rob replied dryly, scratching his head. “Honestly, Higgins, I don’t know what spurred you to offer such egregious advice.”
“Miss Reid is a most dedicated servant,” Higgins replied stiffly, his face now so red that it was nearly emitting heat, “It pained me to watch her try to balance her duties to her mistress against those of -”
“The truth?” Rob interjected wryly.
“We do not know for certain what that stain was, my lord,” Higgins shrugged, “And Miss Reid said it lifted straight off with my suggested remedy; she has insinuated that after our time at Plumpton Hall ends, that we might write to each other to share tips on how best to perform our duties…”
Rob bit back a smile; he suspected that Higgins had been struck down by an acute case of desire.
“Miss Reid might omit her tale of the dress for now,” Robert decided, “But, in the future, if it appears that Lady Albermay is the true murderess, then I am afraid I will have to break your confidence. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, my lord,” Higgins replied with an audible note of relief, “I hope you understand that I was only acting out of chivalry.”
“I understand your motivations entirely,” Rob smiled, eager now to be away to catch a glimpse of Miss Mifford at breakfast.
Downstairs, Robert found the atmosphere somewhat subdued. Each guest kept their counsel as they poked at their breakfast, no doubt wondering what - if anything - Lord Crabb’s interviews might reveal.
Lady Albermay pushed her eggs around her plate listlessly, not once lifting her fork to her mouth.
She looked tired, Rob observed, as though she had spent most of the night tossing and turning.
His glance drifted from the viscountess to Captain Ledger, seated a few chairs away, who was also staring in Lady Albermay’s direction.
He, too, looked exhausted, Rob noted, though his expression was far less forlorn than that of the viscountess - in fact, it looked rather tender.
Rob idly wondered if Lord Albermay’s accusation that the pair were lovers was true, but he was distracted from this thought by the arrival of Eudora at the table.
As she caught sight of the widowed viscountess, her complexion noticeably paled, and her eyes dropped to the floor as she slipped into her chair.
What on earth?
As he tended to his plate of eggs and kippers, Rob made several attempts to catch Miss Mifford’s eye, but her gaze remained resolutely turned away from him.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was avoiding me, Rob thought. His confidence was such, however, that such an idea was quickly dismissed.
It was only when breakfast ended, and Miss Mifford pushed back her chair and fled from the room, without her eyes flickering his way, that Rob conceded that perhaps his initial hunch had been correct.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Highfield queried, falling into step beside Rob as they exited the dining room.
“What?” Rob replied, with some irritation - had Highfield also observed Miss Mifford ignoring him? Had her reluctance to engage with Rob been so apparent that even a man known to be distracted by his own reflection in the silverware had noted it?
“Ah, I thought as much,” the marquess’ knowing reply only served to increase Rob’s annoyance.
“Sometimes, you can be an insufferable know-it-all,” Rob retorted, though his jibe missed the mark, for it was met with a smile from his friend.
“Sometimes, you say?” Highfield answered, with a grin. “I shall have to inform Emily that she is incorrect; she ascertains that I am always an insufferable know-it-all. Do excuse me, Delaney; I must search for my wife to inform her that I am right once again.”
The marquess gave Rob a hearty slap on the shoulder and made for the staircase at speed, leaving Rob wishing he had a missile of some sort to lob at his retreating back.
Not even a coin purse, Rob thought forlornly as he patted down the front of his coat. He felt a soft lump in one pocket and recalled his earlier conversation with Higgins.
“Might as well try to salvage something of the morning,” Rob muttered aloud. He turned his heel in the direction of the kitchens in search of Lord Albermay’s valet.
Uncertain of their exact location, Rob made for the rear of the house, where he discovered a set of servant stairs leading down to a warren of rooms. He followed his nose until he arrived in a large, airy kitchen.
Servants bustled about at disarraying speed, and Rob’s nostrils twitched at the delicious smells that wafted from the stove’s direction.
“Can I help, my lord?” a young slip of a girl asked as she sighted Rob standing by the doorway.
“I am looking for the late Lord Albermay’s valet,” Rob replied, his tone deliberately light.
“I expect you’ll find Mr Cartwright in Mr Allen’s office,” the maid answered, her tone conveying slight dissatisfaction at this. “If you’ll follow me, my lord, I’ll take you there.”
The young woman took off quickly, with Rob following behind. She led him through a further maze of corridors and up a set of stairs until they reached a narrow hallway. The maid rapped on the door nearest them, her expression mutinous.
The knock set off a cacophony of noise beyond the door, grumbling, coughing, and a loud crash, which suggested something might have been knocked over.
Rob sent a startled glance the maid’s way, and she duly rose her eyes to heaven.
“I find it’s best to keep any meetings with Mr Cartwright as brief as possible, my lord,” the maid whispered before the door was flung open to reveal a furious-faced Mr Cartwright.
“What is it this time?” the elderly valet snapped, glaring at Rob and the maid.
“Beg your pardon, Mr Cartwright,” the girl answered, her tone syrupy sweet, “But Lord Delaney requested he be brought to see you.”