Page 45 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
It was Rob’s turn now to blush; he wasn’t accustomed to compliments, especially from someone he held in such high esteem.
“You would have linked it all together without my help,” he assured her, “But now we must try and link another mystery—is Mable’s disappearance her way of telling us that Lord Albermay is capable of murder?”
“Or, is it simply a scorned lover’s act of revenge?” she finished for him.
Rob’s initial hope that the maid’s disappearance might be linked to the viscount’s murder faltered a little as Eudora voiced his fears.
“Do you recall last night?” Eudora began.
Rob, keenly aware that he was alone in a dark room with her, had to bite his lip from saying he had recalled last night about three hundred times since breakfast.
“Er, yes,” he said carefully, afraid his resolve would slip.
“I thought that Mrs Canards and Mrs Wickling had followed us,” she continued, her eyes alight with excitement, “But you said that it was impossible because they left before you. Can you remember who left the drawing room before you did?”
“I do,” he said, his certainty surprising her. “Lord Albermay left quite soon after you, followed shortly after by your two neighbours. I remember it clearly because I was both glad that their departures distracted from my own and irritated because it meant I had to wait a bit longer before I could come to you.”
He was momentarily gratified that his words had made her blush.
“They must have been following the viscount,” Eudora surmised before gasping excitedly, “Lud! Mable was serving tea in the drawing room. They thought they were following her and Lord Albermay, not us.”
“Is it possible that the two ladies might know something which will help with our investigation?” Rob pondered, earning himself a pained look from Eudora.
“Oh, I can’t bring myself to ask them,” she groaned, “They’re insufferable—and they shan’t tell me anything, just to spite me.”
If ever a moment had called for gallantry, it was this. Though Rob would have preferred slaying a dragon in Eudora’s name or rescuing her from a tower, he nevertheless squared his shoulders and gamely volunteered to sacrifice himself before the altar of the two village tabbies.
“Oh, you’re my hero,” Eudora cried after he voiced his plans.
Her exuberant response allowed Rob to slip his arms around her and draw her into a quick embrace. A kiss with Eudora was worth any sacrifice, he thought, as he ravenously captured her lips with his own.
As Rob listened to Mrs Canards list her hundredth complaint about the house party, he recanted his earlier thought that a kiss from Eudora would inspire him to do anything.
Oh, he’d do anything else for another kiss—fist-fight Gentleman Jackson with one hand tied behind his back, give up brandy and cheroots, he’d even act as Highfield’s valet if needsbe—but he would never, ever again offer to spend any amount of time with Mrs Canards, nor her friend Mrs Wickling.
As the former continued to grouse, Rob glanced furtively at her companion; from what he could see, Mrs Wickling’s sole reason for existing on this earth was to agree with her companion.
“That’s right, Mrs Canards,” Mrs Wickling said, proving Rob’s point, as Mrs Canards finished complaining about the food.
Agitated now—for Robert was more accustomed to avoiding those who annoyed him rather than ingratiating himself to them—he offered both ladies an innocent-sounding word of advice.
“I do think that the next time Lord and Lady Crabb invite you to stay ladies,” he said, smooth as silk, “That you should refuse the request—you’re obviously accustomed to far superior gatherings.”
As neither lady had been invited, this was rather mean on Rob’s part. Luckily, Mrs Canards was as delusional as she was cruel, and she nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
“I shouldn’t like to malign my hosts,” she said before going on to do just that, “And Lady Crabb is the best of a bad bunch, but those Mifford girls were just not reared to mix with the gentry. It’s not their fault; they had no hope with that mother.”
Rob bit down on his lip so hard that he near-tasted blood. Eudora had warned him not to defend her family if Mrs Canards unleashed her claws. Still, it was dreadfully difficult to resist throwing the old boot out into the snow.
“Now,” Rob said abruptly, unable to stomach any more small talk, “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to take tea with me.”
Mrs Canards blinked in surprise, leaving Rob to deduce that her confidence was so robust that she would never think anyonewould have an ulterior motive when asking to spend time with her apart from the pleasure of her company.
“I have been told that you ladies are a veritable trove of knowledge when it comes to the comings and goings in this house,” Rob continued, slathering the flattery on thick, “I wished to ask if you had noticed Mable interacting with any of the guests over the past few days.”
“Oh, she interacted with one alright,” Mrs Canards answered, to which Mrs Wickling nodded furiously in agreement.
“Was it Lord Albermay?” Rob ventured, though he already knew the answer.
