Page 27 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

AS THE DOOR clicked shut behind Eudora, Robert desperately resisted the urge to run after her, take her in his arms, and demand she say yes to his proposal.

He had acted foolishly—even if inspired by gallantry—in declaring their engagement to Mrs Canards before confirming it with her first. Eudora had warned him not to rise to the old tabby’s insults about her family, and he had quite spectacularly failed to heed her warning.

While his pride was a little dented by her refusal to immediately answer his second proposal, hope still fluttered in his chest. She had not given him a definitive no, and until she did, Robert would continue in his pursuit of her hand.

Before that, however, he had another matter to attend to.

“Delaney,” Lord Albermay slurred as he opened the door to his bed-chambers in answer to Rob’s furious knocking, “What the devil are you about, waking a man up from a nap?”

“I need to ask you about this morning’s disappearance of the maid,” Rob answered as he pushed past the viscount into the room.

The room was in darkness, the heavy curtains at the windows drawn to block out the weak winter light.

The bed was a soggy mess of twisted sheets and a definite note of sweat mixed with the overwhelming smell of alcohol.

Rob wrinkled his nose in disgust; he could not imagine living in such squalor while a guest in another’s home.

“The maid?” Albermay stuttered, attempting innocence, “Awful business, but I don’t know what it has to do with me. The poor girl probably fell afoul of Lady Albermay’s violent temper - just like my father.”

As a child, Robert had been a prolific battledore and shuttlecock player, and he recognised a well-deflected shot when he saw one. Unfortunately for Lord Albermay, Robert was more than prepared for their match.

“You are lying, my lord,” Robert said, his voice mild as he delivered his first blow, “You were spotted coupling with the maid in the library on your first night here.”

The viscount paled, and his hands began to tremor violently. Robert almost felt sorry for the chap as he shuffled over to the nightstand, where he made piteous work of opening a hip flask.

Lord Albermay downed the liquid within, and after a few moments, the tremor in his hand settled.

“I also overheard you and Mable arguing,” Rob continued, quickly delivering a second blow, “The day you found me outside your room. You were trying to bribe her, were you not?”

“I wasn’t trying to bribe her,” Albermay snapped, his face turning red with annoyance, “I was offering her a financial incentive to tell the truth of my whereabouts on the night of my father’s murder.

Don’t think me stupid enough to have not realised that my stepmother was trying to pin the blame for the murder on me.

Nor did I fail to notice that every one of you would prefer me to be the culprit. ”

The uncomfortable truth of his last remark made Rob uneasy.

If Lord Albermay was telling the truth that he had not killed his father, then his poor manners and surly demeanour toward his fellow guests were somewhat warranted.

If Rob was ever unfairly blamed for a murder he hadn’t committed, he’d probably be just as boorish in his manner.

“Why did Mable not wish to tell Lord Crabb that she had spent the night with you?” Rob pressed.

“Her reputation,” the viscount spat, rolling his eyes, “Though why she believed it worth saving is beyond me—most men can spot a harlot from three feet away; with Mable, you’d spot her from a furlong.”

Though Rob’s instinctive reaction was to defend any woman from being insulted, he kept his counsel. It would not do to argue with Lord Albermay about chivalry when he was being so forthcoming.

“So Mable refused to help you,” Rob summarised, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “And then, someone else just decided to murder her?”

“Nobody murdered her,” the viscount snarled, his face now so red that Rob was worried he might take an apoplectic fit, “She deliberately staged a murder scene to throw more suspicion on me.”

“And why would she do that?” Rob asked, genuinely curious.

“She was afraid that I would out our union to Lord Crabb, and then she would lose her position,” Lord Albermay replied before hurriedly adding, “And she was angry that I would not marry her.”

“Did you give her reason to expect that you would?” Rob raised his brows in disbelief.

“I did say that she’d make a lovely wife,” the viscount replied, suitably shamefaced, “Though I never specified for whom.”

Rob felt a brief stab of pity for Mable; cruel though she had been to Flora, Lord Albermay had been crueller to her again. Rob guessed that the viscount had talked the green girl into parting with her maidenhead in exchange for nothing more than vague murmurings of marriage.

“Hell hath no fury,” Rob commented, earning a doleful nod of agreement from Lord Albermay.

“I’ll think twice the next time before dipping my wick with a maid,” the viscount finished crudely. “Lud! Let this ruddy snow melt so I can return to London and celebrate my new title with some proper light skirts.”

Rob closed his eyes briefly as he willed away the image of Lord Albermay celebrating his new title in a brothel. It was too close to dinnertime to have such visions unwillingly forced upon him.

“You will have to settle a sum on Mable if she reappears,” Rob instructed once his nausea had passed, “When I inform Lord Crabb of this, Mable will lose her position, so you will have to offer her compensation.”

“That seems rather unfair,” the viscount protested. “I only took what she was willing to give.”

“You made the girl think that you would marry her,” Rob countered, “Besides, you already offered her a bag of coin so she’d ruin her reputation to save your skin. You’ll only pay what you already promised.”

For a moment, Lord Albermay looked as though he wished to put up a quarrel, but his bravado soon deflated.

“You will inform Lord Crabb of my innocence?” Lord Albermay clarified, his shoulders sagging with relief as Rob nodded he would. “Then I will pay the girl whatever you like. Thank you, Delaney.”

“I would not like to see an innocent man accused,” Robert deflected his thanks, then offered the viscount a brief bow to indicate that the conversation was over.

He left the room quickly, glad to escape the fetid air. Mable would be wise to reappear sooner rather than later if she wanted to be paid. Robert did not imagine the bloated viscount would see out the year.

In the hallway, Rob debated returning to his room to mull over matters until dinner. Though he usually preferred his own company, his pride still smarted from earlier, so seeking reassurance, Robert decided to hunt down his oldest and closest friend.

“You did what?” Freddie groaned, covering his face with his hands to hide his despair.

“It’s not that bad,” Robert countered, aggrieved at his friend’s response to the tale of his woes.

“It’s worse,” Highfield snorted, “There’s no one a Mifford girl detests more than Mrs Canards—and you made her party to your intent to marry Eudora before Eudora herself.”

Rob thought back on Mr Mifford’s earlier advice that gossip was a currency for some people and groaned. He had gifted his intended wife’s greatest enemy a proverbial pot of gold by letting her know that he and Eudora would be wed. Little wonder his intended wife wasn’t as intent on marriage as he.

“I will find a way to make amends,” Rob answered, refusing to meet his friend’s sceptical gaze.

“Might I ask how?” Highfield queried with a raised brow.

“I don’t yet have a plan,” Rob peevishly replied, “But I will make amends. Now, as much as I know you enjoy watching me squirm, I have other urgent matters I need to discuss.”

“You’ve had a busy day,” Highfield noted as he sat on the edge of his bed to wait for Rob to continue. “I can’t imagine having more pressing matters than a failed marriage proposal. Do tell all.”

Rob stifled a curse of annoyance—now was not the time to argue with his friend. In fact, he barely had any time at all, for Emily was sure to return to their rooms soon to dress for dinner.

“My proposal did not fail; it is under consideration,” Rob clarified before launching into the complex tale of Lord Albermay and Mable’s ill-fated affair.

Highfield listened patiently, adding murmurs of surprise at the appropriate points. As Rob came to the point of the tale —that the affair exonerated Lord Albermay of murdering his father—the viscount gave a groan of displeasure.

“I was hoping it would be him,” he said glumly.

“Everybody was,” Rob shrugged away his own disappointment, “Now we have to face the idea that the murderer is another member of the party.”

“Have you any leads?” Freddie asked, his curiosity piqued.

Rob sighed, then launched into the long tale of the late Lord Albermay’s secret illness and the suspicious stains on Lady Albermay’s dress.

Highfield whistled in shock as Rob came to the end of his piece.

“You are a dark horse, Delaney. Conducting love affairs and solving murders without letting on a thing to anyone.”

“Eudora and I have been investigating together,” Rob clarified, not wishing to take all the credit.

“A murder investigation is a certain way to a Mifford girl’s heart,” Freddie answered with approval. In his eyes, Robert had finally done something right.

“I’m afraid that the idea that her friend is the murderer, has broken Eudora’s heart,” Rob said in response, his tone glum.

Silence fell between the pair, as they both contemplated the unhappy fact that Lady Albermay was most likely a murderess.

“Do you intend to inform Lord Crabb?” Freddie asked, breaking the silence.

As local magistrate, the onus on upholding the law fell to their host. It was a responsibility Rob did not envy.

“I will have to,” he replied, “I expect he will interview Lady Albermay and the captain too. We must not discount the possibility that he was also involved.”

“He seemed like such a nice fellow,” Freddie commented, with a note of dejection, “One can never tell, I suppose.”

“One cannot,” Rob agreed, though he was still conflicted inwardly. Neither Lady Albermay nor Captain Ledger seemed the type to commit murder; it was all so perplexing.

As Lady Emily arrived through the door, any further discussion was cut short.

“Have I interrupted something?” she questioned, glancing from Rob to her husband with confusion. “Is Freddie showing you the sonnet he wrote for me? I told him it was too wonderful not to be shared.”

Rob watched as the viscount’s face fell in horror, as his hitherto unknown penchant for poetry was revealed. He and Rob had been down at Oxford together, and Rob was almost certain that Highfield had not stepped over the threshold of the Bodleian Library more than once.

“Lord Delaney informed Mrs Canards that he and Eudora were to be wed before informing Eudora,” Highfield burst out before Rob could press Lady Emily to share his romantic scribblings.

“Traitor,” Rob whispered to his friend, who had the good grace to look sheepish.

“Oh, dear,” Emily said, “She won’t have liked that.”

“She didn’t,” Highfield confirmed, earning himself another scowl from Rob.

“Eudora is not the type to hold a grudge,” Emily continued, ignoring her husband’s input.

Her expression faltered a little as she reconsidered her statement.

“Well, that’s not quite true. She still brings up the time that I allowed her to take the blame for breaking the window of the sacristy in St. Mary’s.

She’s also fond of reminding Mary that she once burned off half of her hair when Mary made her act as a model for practising curls with a hot poker.

And she has never forgiven any of us for leaving her at home as a child when we went to visit our aunt and uncle in Winchester—”

“I think Lord Delaney gets your point, dearest,” Highfield interrupted before Lady Emily had a chance to continue.

“Oh, that’s not to say she won’t forgive you, my lord,” Emily rushed, as she noted the look of abject despair on Rob’s face, “Just that if she does, she probably won’t forget.”

“Splendid,” Rob replied through slightly gritted teeth. He was starting to regret seeking out Highfield for comfort and assurance.

“And I believe that she would like very much to marry you,” Emily finished, her words offering Rob a glimmer of hope, “Though I shouldn’t like to speak so certainly on her behalf.”

“Yes, let’s not make the same mistake twice,” Highfield chortled before hastily apologising as he noted Rob’s pained wince.

“Do you really think she will marry me?” Rob asked, directing his question to Emily.

“Yes,” the marchioness gave a firm nod before adding, “As long as you don’t muck things up any further.”

Easier said than done, Rob thought, though the glimmer of hope within grew stronger at her words.

Feeling somewhat more positive than when he had arrived, Rob took his leave of the pair to search for Lord Crabb. With any luck, they would have the murder resolved before dinner, leaving Rob free to concentrate on marriage.