Page 6 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

Eudora glanced down at Ivo’s business associate, who had not yet spoken a word.

Perhaps his silence indicated that he was ill at ease with his top-lofty dinner companions, she reasoned, for he did look like the talkative sort.

His clothes were elegant but not ostentatious, and his face, when examined closely, was rather handsome.

Out of the corner of her eye, Eudora caught Lord Delaney observing her observing Mr Lowell. He did not look at all pleased, which irritated her. He had no claim over her, no matter how much her mama and sisters might like him to.

“Yes, my lord,” Mr Lowell replied modestly, “We have several mills dotted around the West Counties, some in Manchester too.”

“Cotton?” Lord Albermay grunted, to which Mr Lowell nodded. “I was invested in silk some years ago. We had a factory in Yeovil but stopped being profitable with the war.”

“Luckily, it burned to the ground before you lost too much on it, eh, father?” Mr Arthur Wellesley, the viscount’s son, called mischievously across to his father, “Only one life lost and the insurance coin cushioned the pain.”

“Fate can be cruel, but she can sometimes be kind,” Lord Amberly agreed, his thin lips curled into a sneering smile.

An expression of distaste crossed Mr Lowell’s handsome face; Eudora supposed he did not think his workers’ lives as disposable as the viscount did.

The exchange between the pair was interrupted as Mary spotted the nursery maid hovering by the door. Despite Mrs Mifford recommending that the couple leave Baby George at home in Northcott Manor for the evening, the duke and duchess had arrived with their son and his attending staff in tow.

“Will he not settle?” Mary called to the girl, who blushed as she nodded.

“I expect he needs his mama,” she sighed, as she slipped away from the table.

“Perhaps I should cast an eye on him too,” Northcott added as he anxiously rose to follow his wife, “Er, do carry on.”

“New parents,” Mrs Mifford commented affectionately as the pair stole out the door, “I was like that with my first; by the time the fourth arrived, I would have happily handed her over to a traveling fair.”

“Thank you, mama,” Eudora muttered, as she speared a stalk of asparagus with her fork.

“Once the table had returned their attention to their dinner, Emily queried, “Do your mills use child labour, Mr Lowell? I have read some horrible stories about what goes on in cotton mills.”

Mr Lowell was not given a chance to answer, for Lord Albermay took it upon himself to offer his opinion on the merits of child labour.

“Nothing wrong with putting a child to work,” he groused, with a scowl Emily’s way, “My own factory was well run by parish apprentices; I gave them work, food, a roof over their head - and they were grateful for it.”

Eudora longed to have the courage to ask what Lord Albermay had done for those same children after the factory had burned to the ground, leaving one dead, but she did not want to upset Jane’s guest.

“Come talk with me later, lad,” the viscount growled to Mr Lowell, ending the subject of industry, “I’ve a mind to invest in textiles again and I’ve buckets of coin left over from the dowry I received when I leg shackled myself to that Yankee.”

He nodded toward Lady Albermay, who kept her attention focused on her plate and acted as though he had not spoken at all. Captain Ledger, however, was unable to ignore such a blatant display of bad manners.

“Apologise, my lord,” he said, his blue eyes flinty, “You do your wife a great disservice by speaking of her in such a manner.”

“What manner?” the viscount retorted, eying the captain with dislike, “Every man has a station in life, sir; you seem to have forgotten yours if you think that you have a right to comment on how I - your better - speak of my wife.”

“A man’s station does not matter when calling out ungallant behaviour,” Captain Ledger replied, his manner mild. He was not at all intimidated by the viscount; rather, he seemed to view him with contempt.

“The captain is correct, Papa,” Mr Wellesley called, adding his voice to the fray, “Even if one marries for money, manners dictate that you should pretend you did not - or at least try to pretend, for appearance’s sake.”

The viscount turned so puce that for a moment, Eudora wondered if he would take some sort of fit. His colour soon faded, and he let out a sigh of displeasure, casting a rheumy eye around the table at each guest.

“I am surrounded by blackguards and knaves,” he grumbled, as he crunched his serviette into a ball and tossed it onto his plate, “A son who refuses to defend me, a wife who forces me to dine with her lovers, an old enemy who has dogged me since Oxford, and a host more interested in an infant than an invited guest. Good riddance to you all.”

On that sour note, Lord Albermay stood, picked up his glass of wine, and left the room on rickety legs.

Eudora glanced over at Lady Albermay to see if she was upset, but the viscountess’ attention was still directed toward her dinner. With her knife and fork, she methodically cut her lamb into tiny pieces, though she did not bring one piece to her lips.

While her expression was neutral, her face was deathly white, even her rosy lips had lost their colour. She was hurting far more than she would ever let on, Eudora realised, sadly.

“I apologise for my outburst,” Captain Ledger said, glancing around the table.

“It’s father who should apologise,” Mr Wellesley answered with a wry smile, “But you’ll find he never does.”

“Not even after fifty years will the man admit he’s wrong,” Lord Percival added, “One day, he’ll meet his comeuppance; I hope I’m still alive to witness it.”

“Hush, Wilbert,” Cecilia said, though she gave a tinkling laugh as though she found him terribly amusing despite his ill wishes toward Lord Albermay.

Dinner finished on a sombre note, though once the men had partaken in brandy and cheroots and the ladies had taken tea, the guests’ spirits were somewhat enlivened.

“How about a game of charades?” Captain Ledger suggested as the guests gathered around the fire in the drawing room.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs Mifford agreed, “Though, I must warn you all that I’m a terrifically talented mime. You must not be too upset if I upstage you.”

“If you mime half as well as you knit, dear, then there’s no point in anyone else even trying,” Mr Mifford commented, with a wink to Eudora.

Jane and Ivo hastily divided the group into pairs before Mrs Mifford could embarrass herself further.

It was agreed that the husbands and wives would team up, while Charlotte was paired with Mr Lowell, Lady Albermay with Captain Ledger, Cecilia with Lord Percival, and Eudora - much to her consternation - was paired with Lord Delaney.

“I shall act as umpire,” Mr Wellesley slurred into his brandy glass, unperturbed to find that he had no match. As he was close to the point of being unable to stand, Eudora supposed it was for the best that he didn’t participate in the game.

A lively evening ensued, made even livelier by the return of Mary and Northcott, the former of whom was even more competitive than her mother.

“Cheater,” Mary howled, in a most un-duchess-like way, as she spotted Freddie winking at Emily as she tried to guess what he was trying to mime.

“I’m not cheating; I’m helping,” the marquess grumbled, “I’d be here all night if I didn’t try to assist my lady-love in some way. No offence meant, darling.”

“None taken,” Emily replied, “I’m as bad at guessing as you are at miming. What on earth were you trying to convey?”

Lord Chambers’ face fell at her assessment of his performance; his pride, Eudora guessed, had been greatly wounded.

“Cassiopeia sacrificing Andromeda to appease the wrath of Poseidon,” the marquess answered with a remarkably straight face.

Eudora idly wondered how on earth he’d thought Emily might have guessed such an obscure tale - especially given his theatrical whirling and twirling - when, from outside, came the sound of a terrific gust of wind.

“It’s blowing up a gale,” Jane commented, as she walked to the window to peep out through the drapes, “And, heavens, it’s snowing. How unexpected!”

As Eudora recalled Mr Hare’s earlier prediction of snow, her eyes met Lord Delaney’s, and she saw he, too, recollected the gravedigger’s words. He gave her a smile that felt remarkably intimate, and she blushed.

“It looks wild,” Ivo agreed, as he joined his wife at the window, “I shouldn’t like to be out in that tonight. Hark - do you see that, dear? It looks like two figures walking up the driveway!”

The footmen were summoned and duly dispatched into the dark night, returning minutes later with two familiar faces.

“Mrs Wickling and I were out taking our usual nightly walk when the weather turned,” Mrs Canards declared as the footmen led them into the drawing room, “It’s rotten out there; not even a carriage would take us safely home. We shall have to stay.”

Her words were delivered in a most hostile tone, for it was clear to everyone - well, to the Miffords at least - that Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling had been out for a snoop rather than an innocent stroll.

“Yes, I suppose you’ll all have to stay,” Jane agreed, glancing at her family members, “I’ll have the servants ready the rooms for you.”

“I’m sure there’s room for Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling in the servants’ quarters,” Mrs Mifford called, with a superior glance at the two interlopers. There was no love lost between Mrs Mifford and Mrs Canards, who each regarded the other as beneath contempt.

“What a lovely evening,” Lady Albermay drawled, sensing the need for someone to draw attention away from Mrs Mifford’s trouble-making “I fear, however, that I am ready for bed.”

“I shall also retire,” Captain Ledger added, bowing to the room. “It was a long journey from Bristol, and my bones are weary.”

The rest of the guests followed suit; Mr Lowell was also exhausted from his journey, and Mr Wellsely was so deep in his cups that he was almost asleep on his Queen Anne chair. Lord Percival had fallen asleep in his chair and had to be roused to be ordered to bed by Cecilia.

“There are rooms for you all,” Jane said as she returned to the drawing room, “Mrs Canards, Mrs Wickling, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you’d prefer to share in the west wing with the rest of us, rather than room in the east wing with the servants.”

“It will do,” Mrs Canards sighed, as though greatly put out by being offered shelter in a storm, “After all, it’s only for one night.”

“I too shall retire,” Lord Delaney said, though he addressed himself mostly to Eudora rather than the other guests, “It has been a most charming evening.”

As the door closed behind him, Eudora sensed that her family was about to share their unsolicited opinions regarding Lord Delaney with her. She caught sight of Mrs Mifford sitting, quite literally, at the edge of her seat and decided that she too was ready for bed.

“It’s been a wonderful evening, Jane,” she said firmly as she made for the door, “You’re quite the accomplished hostess. Honestly, I can’t imagine anything spoiling the week - not even a little snow!”

Unfortunately, the next morning, Eudora was to be proved very wrong - very wrong indeed.

As she finished dressing, a shrill scream ripped through the quiet of the first floor. Eudora hastily finished buttoning her dress and ran for the door, seeking to find the source of the screams. In the dark, wood-paneled corridor, she discovered a young chambermaid wailing and sobbing.

“It’s the viscount,” the maid cried, when she spotted Eudora, “He’s been murdered!”