Page 29 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

THE EVENING HAD seemed interminable after Eudora had excused herself, but Robert had persevered.

Even Mrs Mifford’s threat to regale them all one last time on the pianoforte had not prompted him to make his excuses and leave.

Much to everyone’s relief, her threat had prompted Mr Mifford to take mercy on the other guests and cajole his wife into leaving, promising her a glass of medicinal wine.

Robert drank weak, milky tea all evening until most of all the guests had departed for bed, bar Lady Albermay, Captain Ledger, and their host and hostess.

Lord Crabb caught Rob’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“My lady,” he said, “I have not yet had the chance to interview you regarding your husband’s murder. Might I impose on you now that the opportunity presents itself?”

Captain Ledger took a step closer to the viscountess; intentionally or subconsciously, Rob could not tell.

“Of course, my lord,” Lady Albermay answered, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me.”

“Would you rather retire to the library?” Lord Crabb queried, gesturing to his wife, Rob, and, finally, Captain Ledger to indicate how public the setting was for an interview.

“I have nothing to hide,” the viscountess replied, her gaze defiant.

Rob groaned inwardly; this would all be much easier if the viscountess confessed.

“The morning after the murder, your lady’s maid found what looked like blood stains on the gown which you had worn to dinner,” Lord Crabb began.

Rob raised an impressed brow; he hadn’t expected the viscount to get off to such a strong start.

“What?” Lady Albermay’s beautiful face turned so white that Rob feared she might faint dead away.

“It’s true,” Rob interjected quietly, “Your maid came to my valet to ask for tips on removing them.”

Captain Ledger, who had been standing by the fireplace, took a step toward Lord Crabb.

“My lord,” he said, his voice threatening, “If you mean to accuse Lady Albermay of murdering her husband, then I will have no choice but to call you out.”

Though Captain Ledger was getting in the way somewhat, Rob was still impressed by his show of gallantry. It was evident to all that the dashing seaman held a candle for the viscountess, and his quick rise to her defence was admirable—if not misguided.

“Michael, stop,” Lady Albermay interjected, holding up a hand to silence him, “Lord Crabb has not accused me of anything…yet. He has merely told me that my lady’s maid found apparent blood stains on my gown, nothing more.”

Again, despite the circumstances, Rob found himself filled with admiration for the viscountess. Her shoulders were squared, and her chin resolute; she would not give in easily to Lord Crabb’s questioning.

“It is not just the bloodstained dress, my lady,” Lord Crabb continued, “On the night of the murder, you visited the kitchens—where the murder weapon was procured. You were also later seen wandering the halls by another guest. Then later again, you were overheard arguing with Captain Ledger about whether or not you should tell the truth at our interview.”

When laid out so plainly, the evidence really did point her way.

“Other people here had reason to want my husband dead,” Lady Albermay countered, referring—of course—to her stepson.

“Lord Albermay suffered with a tumour of the stomach,” Lord Crabb replied, “His son was well aware that his father would be dead within weeks—he had no need to kill him for financial gain. Even if he did not know, he spent that night with one of my servants, so he could not have killed his father.”

“He was dying?”

“Mr Cartwright informed me that his late master instructed only his son be made aware,” Lord Crabb confirmed, delivering one final blow to the viscountess.

Given the weight of the accusations against her, Rob half-expected the viscountess to crumble at the news of her husband’s final betrayal, but she did not.

“Lawks,” she exclaimed, her American accent more pronounced with her annoyance, “How like the old fool to want to best me, even when he was dying. He despised me; he could never get over the shame of having to marry into money, you see. He couldn’t even fly a feather before we were wed, as I liked to remind him. ”

Rob exhaled slowly; Lady Albermay’s insights into her marriage were interesting but not a confession.

She seemed to realise that both Rob and Lord Crabb were waiting for her to admit to murder, for she threw back her head and gave a throaty laugh.

“I did not kill my husband, my lord,” she said, once her mirth had subsided, “I’m afraid you’re pointing the finger at the wrong girl.”

“But, the blood on the dress?” Rob burst out, the most damning of clues.

The viscountess did not have a chance to explain the bloodstain away, for the door to the drawing room was thrown open, and Eudora rushed in.

“Lord Delaney,” she called breathlessly as she spotted Rob, “We were wrong about the bloodstains.”

Eudora waved a gown in the air, which Rob recognised immediately, for his hands had roved all over it the night before.

“It’s from the mahogany panelling on the wall; it must have been revarnished only recently.”

“The morning of the party, actually,” Jane interjected, with a wry look to her husband, “A last-minute job, though I had been asking for it to be done for months.”

“There is a whole house of repairs to attend to,” Lord Crabb blustered, then—Rob suspected to get himself out of a pickle—he turned to look at Eudora curiously, “Did you fall against the wall, Eudora? I don’t understand how you managed to get so much of it on your dress?”

Eudora turned bright red and cast a guilty glance at Rob. He blushed in turn as comprehension dawned on Lord Crabb’s face.

Lady Crabb laughed lightly at their collective embarrassment, saying, “Don’t overly press them, Ivo.”

“If the stains on your dress came from…” Lord Crabb trailed off, turning from Eudora to look at Lady Albermay, “Then the stains on your dress came from..?”

It was Lady Albermay’s turn to cast a guilty look at her own paramour. Captain Ledger had the good grace to look abashed, and the viscount gave a curt nod.

“Right,” he said brusquely, “Everyone has been very busy, I see—far too busy for murder, at any rate. Lady Albermay, I pray you will forgive me for insinuating that you killed your husband.”

“It would be a lie to say I had never considered it,” Lady Albermay answered dryly.

“Finally, Lord Delaney,” the viscount turned to frown at Rob. “I expect we’ll have some happy news to celebrate soon.”

“I am just waiting on the lady’s answer,” Rob assured his host, not wishing to cap the night off by being called out for rakish behaviour. He had no intention of compromising Eudora and leaving her in the lurch; quite the opposite.

At his words, every eye in the room turned to Eudora, who squirmed under the scrutiny.

“I am mulling the proposal over,” Eudora answered, glaring at her sister, who threw up her arms in surrender.

“I didn’t say a thing! And it is your prerogative to think carefully on such a big decision,” Lady Crabb said, stifling a yawn behind her hand, “And it is my prerogative to declare myself too big and too tired to stay awake one moment longer. Ivo, would you mind?”

Lord Crabb rushed to assist his wife with standing, while Lady Albermay and Captain Ledger also readied themselves to leave.

Rob had hoped that he and Eudora would be allowed to linger and discuss things, but his host was wise to his intentions.

“I’ll ring for a footman to snuff the candles and grate the fire,” Lord Crabb said firmly as his guests began to leave.

“What about the murderer?” Eudora asked, her brow drawn in confusion, “If it wasn’t Lord Albermay and it wasn’t Lady Albermay, then who did kill the viscount?”

Everyone shifted uneasily as they realised she was correct. They had all—Rob assumed—collectively been so delighted that Lady Albermay was innocent that they had forgotten no one was yet proven guilty.

“I think that’s something best left ‘till tomorrow, Eudora,” Lady Crabb said, as she placed an arm around her sister’s shoulders, “Now come, walk me to my bedroom. I have a few things I wish to ask you.”

With that, Eudora was whisked away from sight, and Rob had little choice but to retire to bed to spend the whole night thinking about her.

Higgins had just finished helping Robert dress the next morning when he heard a quiet but urgent knocking on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Rob said, stepping out of the dressing room and into the main bedroom to open the door.

There, as he had hoped, stood Eudora.

“My lord,” she said breathlessly, “I have been thinking and thinking all night, and—”

Rob’s heart stilled. Was she going to say yes?

“—There must be someone we overlooked; there has to be! Do you have time to spare before breakfast to discuss matters?”

Rob allowed his shoulders to sink in disappointment as his heart resumed its usual tattoo.

“Indeed I do,” he replied, hoping his voice did not betray his dismay, “I’ll just fetch my coat.”

He hurried back to the dressing room, where Higgins—who had obviously been eavesdropping—handed him both his coat and the rag-doll that was found at the scene of Lord Albermay’s murder.

“You’d best return it to his son,” the valet said as he helped Robert shrug on the merino garment, “Word at the servants’ table this morning is that the new viscount intends to leave today—once the worst of last night’s excesses have worn off.”

“I forgot I had that,” Rob replied as he tucked the doll into his pocket.

Higgins muttered something that sounded like “head” and “screwed on”, but when questioned he offered Rob an innocent look.

“Just clearing my throat, my lord,” Higgins fibbed as he deftly brushed lint from Rob’s shoulders whilst simultaneously pushing him toward the door.

Eudora was waiting for him at the end of the hallway, where she stood looking absently out the window.

“You can really see the thaw,” Rob commented.

The garden was no longer concealed by drifts of snow; vast patches of the lawn were now revealed, a little bedraggled but defiantly green against the fading white. Even the fountain at the top of the driveway had resumed its trickling, allowing a few brave robins a chance to bathe.

“I think I can see someone riding along the Bath Road,” Eudora exclaimed, pointing at a small figure a distance away.

Robert shared her excitement; the rider on horseback, though an indiscernible dot at best, was their first glimpse of the outside world in days.

“Will we chance a turn around the courtyard?” Eudora asked, excitement filling her eyes at the idea of stepping outside.

“I don’t see why not,” Rob replied, though he knew Higgins would have a choice word to say about muddying up his freshly shined boots.

“I expect the ground will be quite muddy. Are you wearing the right shoes?” he inquired solicitously as he offered Eudora his arm.

“Yes, they’re Emily’s,” she answered, leaving Rob somewhat bemused.

As they made their way through the house to the entrance hall, they saw not a soul, but once outside, they spotted several stablehands clearing the path from the stables to the driveway.

“Everyone shall leave over the next few days,” Eudora commented as she watched them work.

“I expect so,” Rob agreed, wishing that he could somehow steer the conversation toward the question of his proposal rather than the itineraries of the other guests.

“Amongst them, our murderer,” she continued, coming to a halt at the edge of an ornamental maze, its low hedges still partly concealed by snow.

She looked so beautiful, staring thoughtfully off into the distance, that Rob found it almost painful to look at her. To spare his heart, he turned and fiddled with the bare branch of a nearby tree.

“We must have missed someone,” Eudora sighed as she turned to face him.

“One of the servants, perhaps?” Rob guessed.

“The last viscount of Plumpton Hall was equally as repugnant as Lord Albermay,” she shrugged, “I expect if one of the servants was capable of murder, we would have discovered it during his tenure. Besides, the only servant I can think of who might be up to murder is Mable, and we know she was otherwise occupied on the night.”

A little shocked at her bald statement, Rob let go of the branch he was holding, which snapped back and thwacked him in the face.

“Oh, dear,” Eudora said, as she proffered him a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe the muck from his face, “Are you alright?”

“Just my dignity,” Rob answered gamely. He reached into his pocket for his own handkerchief but instead drew out the rag-doll Higgins had insisted he carry.

“The doll,” Eudora breathed, snatching it from him to examine it, “I forgot that it was found at the murder scene.”

“Mr Cartwright said that it didn’t belong to his master, but my valet insisted I try to return the thing to his son,” Rob said, as he reluctantly wiped his face with her handkerchief. He didn’t wish to ruin the fine cloth, which was embroidered with her initials in one corner.

Rob stiffened as he did a double-take to ensure his eyes were not mistaken.

“J-A-M,” he read aloud, “Are you particularly fond of preserves, Miss Mifford, or was this a love token from an admirer?”

He was not usually a jealous man, but at that moment, Rob felt ready to run through this J.A.M. fellow with a sword.

“Oh, that handkerchief belongs to Mr Lowell,” Eudora replied, her answer little helping Rob’s jealous rage.

“He loaned it to me; I just forgot to return it. I expect the initials belong to one of his admirers,” she finished hastily.

Rob had several questions, the foremost of which was how much time Eudora had spent in Mr Lowell’s company. He did not get a chance to ask her anything, however, for her head turned at the sound of hooves cantering slowly up the driveway.

“Who’s that?” she called, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as she squinted into the distance. “Why, I think it’s Dr Bates!”

With lightning speed, Eudora picked up the hem of her skirt and rushed across the muddy path toward the good doctor—leaving Rob with little option but to follow her.

Not that he minded, for he would—he thought with a smidgen of despair—follow her to the ends of the earth until she answered him.