Page 18 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

“In 1720, the Seventh Earl of Arundel, along with others involved in the maritime industry, founded The Royal Exchange Assurance,” Eudora read, her heart skipping wildly in her chest, “Which offered a range of insurance policies, including fire insurance, marine insurance, and life insurance…”

Eudora thumped her fist on the table in triumph, in a most unladylike manner. Finally, something which pointed suspicion away from Lady Albermay.

Having spent most of the morning trying to avoid Lord Delaney, Eudora was rather annoyed to discover that he was nowhere to be found now that she needed him. She wandered from floor to floor, hoping to see him, but his solid, comforting presence evaded her.

Unlike the baron, her sisters popped up everywhere she turned. Having dodged Jane in the front parlour and Emily in the music room, Eudora found that she could not escape the eldest of her siblings, who emerged from a room on the third floor just as Eudora passed.

“You are wearing the look of a young lady who is up to mischief,” Mary said as she spotted her, eyes narrowing with the suspicion of an elder sister.

“I am not,” Eudora huffed in response, aggrieved that she could not even walk the halls without being accused of mischief.

“Am I supposed to believe it is happenstance that finds you wandering the hallway? That coincidence finds you outside the room where Lord Crabb conducts his interviews?” Mary’s questions were delivered in a tone of disbelief that bordered on theatricality.

Eudora, who had not known this, felt her irritation double at being accused of a crime she had not committed—but would have, had she had prior knowledge.

“Hen’s teeth,” she exclaimed, angered by the unfairness of it, “Why do you all feel that you can boss me about as though I am a child?”

“You were told that Ivo would undertake the investigation into Lord Albermay’s murder, yet here you are— ”

“—Walking!” Eudora interjected, her pitch high with indignation, “I am walking the house to keep myself occupied; in case you hadn’t noticed, your Grace, we’re unable to leave the house.”

Mary raised a brow at the rather mocking tone Eudora had placed upon her title. Her eyebrows knitted into a dark frown, and for a moment, she appeared as though she was going to respond to Eudora’s spleen with some of her own. Instead, much to Eudora’s horror, a brief look of pity crossed her face.

“I know how frustrating it must feel to be the youngest, Eudora,” Mary said, her voice kind, “But please consider that we only want what’s best for you. When you set up a home of your own, perhaps with Lord Delaney, you will—”

At the mere mention of Lord Delaney, Eudora felt her face flush with humiliation as she recalled how she had waited hopefully for a kiss that had not come.

Hot, prickly heat crept down her body to her belly, where shame and embarrassment turned to fury.

Her hope had been misguided, it was true, but had she not been steered and encouraged in an erroneous direction by her meddlesome family?

“Enough!” Eudora cried, interrupting Mary’s patter, “I hope I never marry and set up home. From what I can see, marriage serves only to turn tolerable sisters into intolerable matchmakers. Poor ones at that! Lord Delaney has made it quite clear that he holds no romantic interest in me, yet you all insist upon meddling and needling, and I have had enough.”

The fury that had fueled her outburst evaporated as she finished speaking, and to Eudora’s surprise, hot tears prickled her eyelids. Unable to bear Mary’s look of pity, Eudora turned on her heel and fled down the corridor.

Plumpton Hall’s never-ending warren of hallways and corridors afforded Eudora a quick, if not dignified, escape.

After running miles of carpet, several flagstone corridors, and three sets of servant’s stairs, Eudora finally spotted an open doorway.

Glad to find a private refuge where she might indulge in self-piteous tears, she rushed inside, realising too late that the room was not as unoccupied as she had assumed.

“Miss Mifford, are you unwell?” Mr Lowell stood as she entered, his handsome face a picture of concern.

Eudora froze, scanning the room to ascertain if she had just thrown herself into Mr Lowell’s private chambers. The room was round in shape, part of one of the turrets, and filled with a hodgepodge mix of furniture and long-lost antiques. Seeing her confusion, Mr Lowell kindly came to her rescue.

“I believe this is the late housekeeper’s parlour room,” he offered, most helpfully. "I’m afraid I’ve made myself quite at home here, as we await our escape. The windows are quite narrow, but they offer a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside.”

He gestured toward the arched window. Eudora duly obliged him by stepping across the worn Axminster to peer out at the snow-covered vista.

She oohed and ahhed appropriately, but her mind was somewhat distracted by the image of Mr Lowell performing the same act.

She imagined he cut a dashing figure, staring moodily out across the rolling hills - perhaps dreaming of being reunited with his lady love.

The lady in question would, of course, be beautiful, for men like Mr Lowell always attracted beautiful women.

Lord Delaney was also certain to attract only the prettiest of ladies, given his title, strong shoulders, and charming smile…

To Eudora’s horror, she found more tears streaming down her cheeks as she imagined Lord Delaney pining for some love far away.

How silly she had been to think that he might feel something for her when he had the whole of the ton to choose from.

How stupid she had been, too, for wanting for so long to be older than she was when the pain in her heart made her feel one hundred years old, and it was desperate.

“Ahem,” Mr Lowell gave a discreet cough as he proffered a handkerchief her way.

“I do apologise,” Eudora hiccuped, as she gratefully accepted the linen cloth to wipe away her tears. "I’m not usually so weepy, but I’m afraid that I had something of an argument with one of my sisters.”

“Understandable,” Mr Lowell commented, “Tempers will fray when people are cooped up inside for long periods.”

Eudora nodded in agreement, glad of his diplomacy. Although she did not know Mr Lowell well, or at all really, his presence was very comforting.

“You will make up, don’t fret,” he continued, seeking to reassure.

“Perhaps,” Eudora replied doubtfully, still unable to forgive her sisters for leading her to believe Lord Delaney was in love with her. The sting of humiliation was still too raw to allow that just yet.

“You will,” the young merchant’s voice was firm in its conviction, “There is no better luck in this world than to have a sister, Miss Mifford. Even with three, I think you too sensible a young lady to be so careless as to lose the affections of even one.”

Eudora preened a little at being called sensible, a characteristic which was not often used to describe her. She then pursed her lips a little as a thought struck her.

“Have you sisters, Mr Lowell?” she asked, curiously, suddenly realising that she knew nothing of the man before her.

At her question, Mr Lowell bowed his head low, causing a dark lock of hair to cover his eyes.

“I had one,” he said, after a pause, lifting his grey gaze to meet hers, “As I said, Miss Mifford, it is a terrible thing to lose a sister.”

Eudora rushed to apologise, but Mr Lowell brushed them aside with a charming smile and a rueful shake of his head.

“Please don’t fret,” he assured her with a wan smile, “It was many years ago - I am afraid that being cooped up inside this house for so long has made me sentimental. I am not a man given to idleness…”

His athletic frame could attest to that, Eudora noted, but she was wise enough to keep this thought to herself. That was not the kind of compliment one offered to a man, especially when alone in a room with him, completely unchaperoned.

Just as Eudora wondered how she might politely extricate herself from this delicate situation before they were discovered and caused a scandal, the gong for luncheon sounded out from the far-off entrance hall.

“I must go freshen up,” Eudora said, somewhat feebly. She wanted to say something profound in light of Mr Lowell’s sad revelation, but she was quite unpracticed at spontaneous profundity. Instead, she offered the industrialist sincere thanks for his help, turned tail and fled.

Outside in the corridor, Eudora almost bumped bodily into Mable, the buxom maid, who was making a great show of polishing the wood coving surrounding the window.

“Mr Allen sent me,” Mable offered sullenly, despite Eudora not having asked.

“It is my sister who is your mistress, not I,” Eudora answered evenly before nodding goodbye and continuing to the dining room.

It did not take a great leap of the imagination to conclude that Mable was loitering near the handsome industrialist’s hiding place in the hope of engaging him in a flirtation.

Eudora could not blame the girl—Mr Lowell was handsome and kind, a rare combination in a man.

He was also a big improvement on Lord Albermay, the previous object of the maid’s attention.

Eudora went to the dining room, idly mulling if she should inform her sister of Mable’s activities. As she went to take her seat, Eudora realised that she still held Mr Lowell’s handkerchief in her hand.

I’ll return it later, she thought to herself before becoming distracted as Lord Delaney entered the room, followed shortly by Mr Lowell.

Still embarrassed, Eudora averted her gaze from the former only to have her eye caught by the latter, who offered her a warm, encouraging smile.

This smile was noted by Lord Delaney, who glanced between the two with an odd expression on his face.

Yesterday, Eudora might have attributed his slight frown to jealousy, but her old battered heart refused to allow her such fancies.

Nothing more than indigestion, she decided, most firmly.