Page 8 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)

His question was answered almost immediately, as a bleary-eyed Mr Wellesley - Lord Albermay now that his father was dead - appeared at the door.

“It’s like a mausoleum in here,” he called as he made his way to the table, “I thought this was supposed to be a party, eh?”

Judging from his unsteady gait and the slight slur to his speech, Robert suspected that the new viscount had enjoyed a nip of something warming whilst dressing.

The guests shifted awkwardly in their seats as they each realised that the poor man was unaware of his father’s untimely demise. Lord Crabb opened his mouth, perhaps to offer to take Lord Amberley to another room to impart the news, but Lady Albermay beat him to it.

“Your father is dead, Arthur,” she said, her voice cool - almost accusing.

“Dead?” he replied, sinking into his chair with a thud, “How unexpected. What happened to the old bugger? Did he take an apoplectic fit in his sleep?”

“He took a knife to the neck,” the viscountess replied baldly, causing Mrs Mifford to spit out her tea.

Robert bit back a groan; in hindsight, Lord Crabb’s speech about secrecy might have been better directed at Lady Albermay.

“Can’t say he didn’t deserve such an end,” the new Lord Albermay answered after a pause.

He reached into the breast pocket of his coat, extracted a silver hip flask and added a generous dash of brandy to his tea.

Despite his attempts at appearing blasé, Lord Albermay’s face was now deathly pale, and his hand shook uncontrollably as he screwed the cap back onto his flask.

“Any idea who did it?” he continued, once he had taken a large gulp of his brandy-laced tea.

The table fell into awkward silence, as the guests eyed each other suspiciously. Only Lady Albermay appeared at ease as she took a large sip of her own glass of brandy.

“If I were a wagering lady,” she drawled, placing her glass down upon the table. “I’d put all my money on you.”

Rob inhaled sharply, impressed by the viscountess’ gumption. Lord Albermay had been at the top of Rob’s list of possible suspects, too, mainly because he stood to inherit his father’s title and fortune. Nothing motivated a man to murder quite like money, except perhaps…

“How amusing,” Lord Albermay replied, with a sickly sweet smile toward his stepmother, “You are at the top of my list, too. With my father out of the way, you’re free to carry on affairs with whatever man you like.”

Lust.

Rob paid scant attention to the gossip sheets, but even he knew that they liked to portray Lady Albermay as something of a man-eater.

He knew, as well as everyone else that this portrayal was most likely untrue.

It was terribly unfair of Lord Albermay to fling such accusations at her, no matter how upset he might be.

“My lord, I know that you are shocked, but I must ask you to retract your statement.”

All eyes turned to Captain Ledger, who had pushed back his chair and was standing, glowering angrily at Lord Albermay. His gallantry - and his dashingly handsome appearance - earned him appreciative smiles from the ladies at the table, including Miss Mifford.

“Or what?” Lord Albermay answered, looking, for all appearances, terribly amused, “You’ll stab me in the neck?”

The insinuation of his words was met with an uncomfortable silence, which only Lord Crabb had the wisdom to break.

“That’s enough,” he said sternly, “Lord Albermay, if you’re intent on enjoying a liquid breakfast, might I suggest you take yourself to the library?

You’ll find my drink cabinet is admirably stocked.

Captain, I know you are a stickler for manners, but you’re adding to the chaos, not soothing it.

Everyone, we are snowed in; I know it’s not ideal - especially after such horrible news - but we’ll all have to try to get along, alright? ”

A chorus of agreement went up from the around the table. Only Lord Albermay remained silent as he pushed his chair away from the table and stalked off to the library.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Mrs Mifford picked up where she had left off, detailing the plights she suffered during the snow of eighty-nine.

“We were running out of food,” she said to no one in particular, “And I thought that if the snow didn’t melt soon, we would be forced to eat the spiders from the attic.

Imagine! What on earth would I have seasoned it with?

Thyme for beef, rosemary for lamb, parsley for fish - what would one put on a spider? ”

The table considered her question rhetorical, and the assembled guests continued to eat their breakfast in silence - though with less gusto than before, as they each imagined partaking in an arachnid-themed feast. Gradually, they began to slip away one by one; Captain Ledger to the drawing room to catch up on correspondence, Lady Albermay to her room to rest, the dowager duchess and Lord Percival to play cards, and Mr Lowell to the library to read.

Finally, only the immediate family - and Rob - were left.

“This is terrible,” Lady Crabb said, dropping her head into her hands as the door shut behind Mr Lowell.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Mrs Mifford replied soothingly to her daughter. “I’m sure when news spreads of Lord Albermay’s murder, your party will be the talk of the ton. Everyone will wish they’d been invited!”

“I don’t think she’s upset about her reputation as a hostess, dear,” Mr Mifford interrupted, “Rather, she’s upset because one of her guests was murdered.”

“I don’t see why when he wasn’t very nice,” Mrs Mifford huffed, voicing the thought everyone had shared but had manners enough not to say aloud, “Even his son said he deserved it.”

Rob caught Miss Mifford’s eye; by the looks of things, she shared his suspicions about the viscount’s son.

“We will discover the perpetrator,” Northcott assured them, sounding most impressive and ducal.

“I do have previous experience in solving murders,” his wife added with a slightly smug look.

“We all have experience,” Lady Chambers replied mildly, though her face fell as she caught sight of Eudora, “Er, well, most of us do.”

“Let’s get all of our ducks lined up on the same page,” Miss Charlotte Mifford interrupted, her choice of words momentarily perplexing Robert. “There’s a murderer under this roof and we shall have to work together to find out who it is. There’s no time for arguments or competition.”

“True,” the duchess agreed, though she sounded somewhat petulant for a lady of her standing.

“We’ll all work together as best we can,” Northcott added his voice to the chatter before continuing sternly, “But leave the bulk of the investigative work to the menfolk. If there is a murderer under this roof, then I do not wish for any of you ladies to put yourselves in danger, is that understood?”

The four Mifford sisters and their cousin reluctantly agreed with the duke. Still, from the determined gleam in her eye, Rob could already tell that Miss Mifford had no intention of obeying poor Northcott.

“I think I’ll take a walk in the Long Room,” she said, removing her napkin from her lap. “It’s so stuffy in here.”

“You might freeze to death there,” Lady Crabb observed with a wry smile, “Take a shawl; one dead guest is enough.”

Miss Mifford stole from the room, though as she left, she gave Robert a rather pointed stare—she wished for him to join her.

Rob blushed like a green girl as he worried how on earth he might take his own leave without attracting suspicion. Mercifully, the others took the lead from Miss Mifford and decided that they, too, were finished breakfast.

“I think I shall retire to my room and read for a spell,” Rob said to no one in particular. His statement was met with vague murmurings and smiles, which he took as permission to leave.

Once out in the entrance hall, he collared the first servant he could find for directions to the Long Room.

“Take a left on the second floor and carry on to the end of the corridor, my lord,” the footman advised him, “I’d wear an outdoor coat; it’s cold up there.”

Rob thanked him but paid no heed to his advice to layer up. Who needed a coat to keep him warm when his burning desire for Miss Mifford would do just that?