Page 42 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“If you expect me to confess to that, it’s more than a bag of coins you’ll owe me,” he said, quoting Mable verbatim. “That’s the only bit I heard clearly before Mable stormed out.”
Eudora nodded, her expression thoughtful.
“It would be helpful if we knew what it was that Lord Albermay wanted her to confess to,” Rob continued, too-late realising that he was somewhat stating the obvious.
“It can’t have been the murder, for no servant in their right mind would do that.”
A member of the gentry just might escape hanging for murder, but a servant would certainly not.
“Perhaps it was a lovers’ quarrel,” Rob ventured; it was not unheard of for ungentlemanly gentlemen to dally with the household staff. Lord Albermay, Rob guessed, would have had no qualms in taking liberties with a maid.
“It’s the most likely explanation,” Eudora agreed, her voice calm but her cheeks showing the slightest hint of a blush.
Robert was momentarily assaulted by a violent need to kiss her again, but his lustful urges were interrupted by the footman, who placed a plate of kippers before him.
They fell into silence as they ate. Rob attacked his plate with more gusto than usual, famished after his nighttime adventures.
His gaze slipped down the table to the other guests. Lady Albermay appeared much brighter than she had the day before despite the awful news. Captain Ledger, too, was noticeably less tense around the shoulders.
They must think that the disappearance of Mable exonerated them, Rob realised. While it was true that the pair were unlikely to have committed a double murder, the bloodstains on Lady Albermay’s dress still weighed heavily on Rob’s mind.
He had no time to dwell further. Mr and Mrs Mifford arrived at the dining room, and Mrs Mifford made a beeline straight for Rob and Eudora.
“Why, look at you both sitting together, thick as thieves,” Mrs Mifford cried, causing everyone at the table to turn to look.
Eudora squirmed in her seat, but Robert took her mother’s machinations in his stride. They were on the same side, after all. Mrs Mifford wanted Robert to marry her daughter and, after last night, that outcome was also Robert’s deepest wish.
“Terrible news about the maid,” Mrs Mifford continued as she settled into her seat. “We met Flora on the way down; she was in an awful state. I advised her to skip the herbal tinctures and go straight for the medicinal wine to calm her nerves.”
“What sage advice, dear,” Mr Mifford commented, “That’s just what Jane needs—one maid missing, one maid drunk.”
“What exactly did Flora say happened?” Eudora interjected before Mrs Mifford could mount a response to her husband’s jibe.
“She told us that one of the maids woke this morning to find that the other maid she shares a room with was missing. There was a pool of blood on the floor, which everyone has taken to mean that the poor girl was murdered,” Mr Mifford said before mildly adding, “Though I do find when people jump to conclusions, that they usually land in the wrong place.”
“You can’t blame people for thinking the poor girl murdered,” Mrs Mifford argued, “After what happened with Lord Albermay. Why, we could have some sort of crazed killer in our midst, eager to pick us off one by one.”
Robert thought Mrs Mifford sounded quite excited rather than afraid. He watched her gaze around the room, her eyes landing on Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling. They narrowed thoughtfully, and Rob realised that Mrs Mifford would have no trouble rustling up a to-do list for the murderer.
“Look, there’s the dowager duchess,” Mrs Mifford hissed as Cecilia entered the room. “I want to be the first to tell her the news.”
With a flourish, she stood and hurried across the room to the unsuspecting duchess.
“Gossip is a form of currency, for some people,” Mr Mifford explained to Robert before dryly adding, “If you were hoping for a quick escape, now is the time to do so.”
“Now that you mention it, I do have some correspondence to catch up on in the library,” Rob said, hoping that Eudora would take the hint.
He departed the dining room with a curt nod to the other guests and made for Lord Crabb’s library.
There, he found the room empty, bar a cheerful fire burning in the grate.
He paced the Axminster carpet for a few minutes until Eudora arrived, slightly breathless.
“Forgive me, I was waylaid by Jane asking me to return some of the dresses I have borrowed from her,” she said, explaining the delay. “She’s usually the best sister to borrow things from, as she doesn’t often ask for them back. However, her wardrobe is near empty from pilfering due to so many unexpected guests.”
She trailed off, casting him an apologetic glance.
“I’m sorry; I’m sure you don’t have a particular interest in the sisterly politics of borrowing clothes.”
