Page 14 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
There were some upsides to being snowed in, he decided, and at the top of that list was Miss Mifford.
Robert took a seat at the table, where an efficient footman poured him a steaming cup of coffee.
“I’ll take some kippers and eggs, please,” Rob instructed the lad, who promptly vanished to fetch them for him.
The table was oddly silent, apart from Mrs Mifford, who was recounting the tale of the snowstorm of eighty-nine.
“Albert and I had just arrived in Plumpton,” she informed her captive - rather than captivated - audience. “And I was already terribly upset, for Primrose Cottage was not what a lady of my birthing might have expected for a first home - I come from a very good family, you see…”
Rob let her words wash over him as he cast an eye about the table. Lady Albermay was less pale now, though that might be attributed to the large glass of brandy in her hand. The Dowager Duchess appeared utterly nonplussed by the news that a fellow guest was dead as she attacked her scrambled eggs with gusto. Beside her, Lord Percival, too, looked calm - in fact, he seemed rather pleased with the turn of events. Captain Ledger sat somewhat down from them, his handsome face unreadable, though he sent several searching gazes Lady Albermay’s way.
Mr Lowell was silent as he cut his sausages and bacon into pieces. Rob felt a stab of pity for the man, for he was somewhat apart from the rest of the group. Then, as he recalled the appreciative glance Miss Mifford had given Mr Lowell the night before, Robert’s pity vanished.
Someone was missing, he thought, but who?
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 aresnowed 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.
