Page 9 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford (Regency Murder and Marriage #4)
THE AIR IN the Long Room was frigid, but Eudora did not mind. She was too excited to pay any heed to her environment - at last, a murder of her own to solve.
Her mind raced as she paced the length of the room, the walls of which were lined with portraits of Lord Crabb’s long-dead relatives.
She paused before a picture of the third viscountess - whose face was most equine-like - and idly wondered if Lord Delaney had understood that she wished for him to join her to discuss matters.
The instant that she had learned of Lord Albermay’s murder, Eudora knew that he was the only person who would support her in her investigations. She didn’t know how she knew; she just knew…
An odd feeling stole over her, which she stubbornly quashed. Lord Delaney was simply the only person who treated her as an adult, that was all.
“Ahem, you wished to see me?”
Eudora whirled on her slipper and found the baron standing just inside the doorway. His face wore a mischievous smile, and Eudora knew that she had been correct in thinking he would support her.
“Are we about to go against Northcott’s expressed wish to leave the investigating up to him?” Lord Delaney queried with a grin as he strode toward her.
For a moment, Eudora was tongue-tied - a little overcome by his masculine energy and zeal - and she simply nodded dumbly.
“Er, yes,” she said, clearing her throat in an attempt to sound composed, “I hope that you will help me?”
“I’m hurt that you’d even doubt that,” Lord Delaney replied, his brown eyes holding hers for a fraction longer than necessary.
“No,” she assured him, “I didn’t doubt you for a second. You’re the only person here who treats me as an equal - I can’t understand why, but I am glad of it.”
There was a pause in which an amused smile played at the corners of the baron’s generous mouth.
“I have four sisters,” Lord Delaney explained, cheerfully, “All older than I. I know something of being ignored by older siblings.”
“B-but,” Eudora stuttered, confused, “You are a man - a baron!”
“To the outside world, yes,” Lord Delaney agreed, still cheerful, “But to my sisters, I shall always be their little Bobikins.”
Despite the stab of camaraderie she felt, Eudora could not help but laugh at the idea of anyone referring to the towering baron as Bobikins. Poor Lord Delaney’s expression quickly turned to slight panic at her amusement.
“I do hope that you will not betray my confidence by adopting the moniker,” he said humbly, “For I am as pleased as you to find someone who speaks to me as an equal.”
“Of course not, my lord,” Eudora rushed to assure him.
“You may call me Robert if it pleases you,” he continued, with another mischievous smile, “Just not Bobikins.”
Eudora flushed at the very idea of using the baron’s given name, for it felt far too intimate. Manners, however, dictated that she also extend him the same courtesy.
“You may call me Eudora if you wish,” she replied before hastily moving on to the matter at hand, “Now, tell me what you found - if anything - in Lord Albermay’s bedchamber.”
Lord Delaney gave a - much redacted, Eudora guessed - outline of what he had seen. The viscount had been stabbed in the neck with an inconspicuous kitchen knife. There were no clues whatsoever, bar the plate of crackers and cheese.
“If we can find the footman who delivered it, then we will have a better idea of what time Lord Albermay was last seen alive,” he finished.
“I can ask in the kitchen,” Eudora offered, “I’m acquainted with the scullery maid, Flora, from the village. Then we just need to compile a list of the people with the most motive for killing Lord Albermay.”
“Well, his son is top of my list,” Lord Delaney replied, “What better motive to kill a man than money?”
“That’s true,” Eudora agreed, as she recalled the previous evening, “And Jane did say that he had argued with his father when he arrived. What about Lord Percival? He has held a grudge against Lord Albermay for half a century - perhaps last night, he finally snapped?”
She glanced at the baron to see if he agreed with her and saw that he was holding back a laugh.
“Lord Percival has eighty years on him,” he said apologetically when he saw Eudora’s crestfallen face, “I don’t believe he would have had the strength.”
“Well, we shall keep him on the list nonetheless,” Eudora replied, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest. She thought another name might need to be added to the list, but she felt disloyal for even thinking it and did not think she could say it aloud.
Luckily, Lord Delaney did not possess the same scruples as she.
“I’m afraid we shall have to add Lady Albermay to the list,” Robert said, with a slight frown, “If only for the sake of fastidiousness.”
“She was not fond of her husband,” Eudora agreed before rushing to defend the viscountess, “But I don’t believe her capable of murder, my lord.”
“Robert,” he corrected her, absently. “The other guests must be considered as well. Captain Ledger, Mr Lowell, even those two harridans from the village.”
It was Eudora’s turn to be amused, though she tried to hide it from Lord Delaney. Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling were many things, but they were not murderers.
“That’s everyone,” Eudora surmised, “Barring my family, though I do hope you’ll let me vouch for their innocence.”
“Of course,” Lord Delaney grinned, “And as my name has been omitted from the list, am I to presume that you believe completely in my innocence?”
“Completely,” Eudora assured him and was surprised to note that his ears turned pink at her solemn words. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but her good opinion appeared to be terribly important to the towering baron.
A silence fell between them, not unpleasant, but it did make Eudora acutely aware that she was completely alone with a gentleman.
She could have sworn that, last night, Lord Delaney had not appeared quite so tall and broad.
Nor did she recall him smelling quite so divine, a heady mix of leather and wood, finishing with a beguiling hint of spice.
She flushed, as she realised that she had been standing - slightly open-mouthed - for a good minute.
“So,” she clarified, as she cleared her throat, “We’re agreed? I shall ask in the kitchen about the tray that was served to Lord Albermay, and you will see what you can learn amongst the men folk?”
The baron blinked slowly before replying, as though he, too, was somewhat dazed.
“Yes, very good,” he agreed, his voice three octaves higher than usual, “I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”
Their meeting was now at an end, yet Eudora felt a strange urge to linger. Only the sound of footsteps tramping in the hallway outside managed to rouse her.
“I’ll slip out the far door,” she said, gesturing to the door at the other end of the room, “Lest anyone finds us alone together. We wouldn’t want to add a scandal to a murder.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” the baron agreed, though his tone did not sound very convincing.
Eudora offered him a brief smile, then took off as fast as her slippered feet could carry her.
Her heart thudded within her chest in a way that she could not attribute to the excitement of the murder.
It was Lord Delaney - Robert - who had it beating such a fierce tattoo - and Eudora was not entirely certain how pleased she was to realise it.
Eudora did not venture into the kitchens until well after luncheon - a tense but delicious affair consisting of strained silences and jellied eels. Once the guests had finished eating and retreated from the dining room to their private spheres, Eudora set off to find Flora.
She made her way through the empty kitchen to the scullery, where she found the scullery maids hard at work, washing the porcelain that had just been used for lunch.
Eudora cast an eye around the dim room - the kitchens dated from the Tudor Period and had only narrow casement windows - in search of Flora Bridges.
“May I help you, Miss?”
The buxom maid with whom Lord Albermay had been flirting at dinner was the first of the servants to spot Eudora, an interloper in their midst.
Though her words were polite, her tone and the narrowing of her blue eyes suggested she was not impressed at finding a guest in her domain.
She was terribly pretty; her complexion was all peaches and cream, and her big blue eyes were complimented by a rosebud mouth and button nose.
Her staid, black uniform did little to conceal a figure so generous that Eudora felt almost boyish standing before her.
“I wish to speak with Flora,” Eudora answered, annoyed with herself for sounding almost apologetic, “I have something I wish to discuss with her.”
A definite scowl crossed the young woman’s face, and she nodded toward a closed door.
“You’ll find Flora in the pantry, Miss,” the maid said, then muttered in a dark aside, “Nice and private, if she wishes to tattle tales.”
Eudora blinked nervously. She did not wish to get involved in any drama between the servants, not while she had a murder to solve.
“Thank you..?”
“Mable,” the maid answered before turning her back on Eudora and flouncing away to the far side of the kitchen.
Although this was far from the auspicious start she had hoped for, Eudora did not let it deter her, and she made for the pantry in search of Flora.
“Knock knock,” Eudora called in lieu of knocking as she opened the pantry door.
“Miss Mifford,” Flora greeted her with a warm smile. “Can I fetch you anything? Cook has some French fancies hidden away. I can plate them up if you’d like to nibble on something sweet after luncheon.”
The idea of having something sweet had not occurred to Eudora, but now that it had been suggested, she couldn’t imagine anything nicer.
“Oh, please, Flora,” Eudora agreed, “That sounds a treat.”
The scullery maid beamed and went off to fetch them, returning minutes later with a plate laden with delicate pastries, iced in various shades of pastel.