Page 26 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“Actually, Robert -” Eudora interrupted, then explained Cecilia’s tale and her comment on the earl’s athleticism.
“One wouldn’t suspect, from looking at him,” was all that Robert had to say on that matter. His expression turned decidedly uncomfortable, as though he wished to say something but was too afraid.
“What is it?” she pressed.
“My valet has become quite friendly with Lady Albermay’s maid,” he began, his hesitant tone causing Eudora’s stomach to flutter with nerves.
“The morning that the murder was discovered, she asked Higgins to come look at something in the viscountess’ room,” he continued, “It was a dress, damp from having been scrubbed, covered in what looked like blood stains.”
“What looked like blood stains?” Eudora stressed, unwilling to believe ill of her friend.
“The dress was washed,” Robert conceded, his tone unnervingly kind. “However, Higgins described rust-like stains as being clearly visible.”
“Perhaps it was just rust,” Eudora answered, petulant despite his kindness.
“Perhaps,” he agreed cheerfully, “However, we must open our minds to the idea that the culprit might be someone we’d rather it not be.”
He paused warmth and concern in his brown eyes. Eudora nodded glumly in response; he was correct, unfortunately.
“We’ll see what - if anything - turns up tomorrow after Lord Crabb has conducted his interviews,” Robert decided, “Younever know, Lord Albermay might be so deep in his cups that he confesses to everything.”
Eudora smiled at the idea, but inside, she rather hoped that he did not confess. It was childish, but she wished to solve the mystery herself, to prove to her sisters that she was just as good as them.
“We’ll meet again tomorrow to discuss any new revelations,” she agreed, “In the meantime, we shall keep our eyes and our ears peeled for more clues.”
“Yes, captain,” Robert agreed, giving her a mock salute.
Eudora bit back a smile of delight; no one had ever called her “captain” or thought she was in charge of anything. It was rather exhilarating.
She paused, wondering what she should say in response. As silence fell between them, she became acutely aware that they were alone - alone in a room made romantic by moonlight, no less.
She glanced up at Robert and saw that his brown eyes were dark and brooding. Did he wish to kiss her? Did she wish for him to kiss her?
Eudora thought about it for a moment and realised that, yes, she did. She glanced at his firm and generous mouth and imagined it pressed against hers. The image gave her such a giddy thrill that she flushed.
She glanced down at her slippered feet, wondering when Lord Delaney might make his move, but to her disappointment, he remained still.
“I shall wait here for a few minutes,” he said evenly, “Lest we are caught together traversing the corridors alone.”
“Oh, of course,” she agreed, feeling slightly foolish. Had she imagined the desire in his eyes? Was it possible that as well as convincing the world that Lord Delaney was on the verge of proposing, her mother had also convinced her? It was entirelypossible that his romantic interest in her was nothing more than a figment of her mother’s imagination.
Humiliation caused tears to sting Eudora’s eyes, though she blinked them back bravely.
“Goodnight, my lord,” she said, her formal tone hiding her hurt, “We shall speak again tomorrow.”
Eudora took off on her slippered feet without so much as a backwards glance. She dashed along the Oriental runner toward the door, slipping quickly out. In the hallway, she took the first turn she chanced across, desperate to reduce her chances of bumping into Lord Delaney again.
She spotted a set of servants’ stairs and slipped down them, idly nursing her hurt. For a moment, she felt a stab of annoyance toward Lord Delaney, but that was quickly quashed as she recalled that it was her mama who had set her up for her spectacular fall. Chagrin at her mother’s antics was so familiar a feeling that it offered Eudora a moment of comfort from her humiliation.
At the bottom of the staircase, she found a door that led to a hallway in the West Wing of the house. The hallway was dark, made even darker by the mahogany panels that lined it.
Eudora stepped out, thinking of returning to her room, but as she moved down the pitch-black corridor, she heard footsteps approaching.
Panicked, she slipped behind a large suit of armour, hoping that she would not be seen. She held her breath as the footsteps neared, wondering who was traipsing around Plumpton Hall so late at night.
“-and I think that we should tell the truth,” she heard a man’s voice whisper.
“We should just stick to our stories, Michael,” a female voice argued. “Lord Crabb is unlikely to overpress us.”
