Page 8 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
They passed by a row of thatched cottages, carried on over the bridge, and found themselves back in Plumpton. The village was quieter now, for it was nearly luncheon, but two figures remained standing at the village green, the same ladies who had earlier attempted to eavesdrop on Rob and Mr Marrowbone.
“Lud, no,” Miss Mifford groaned as the two ladies hurried across to them.
“Miss Mifford,” the stouter of the two women called, “What’s all this I hear about a dead body being found on the Bath Road?”
“Just that, Mrs Canards,” she replied, with a resigned sigh, “We found a dead body, we don’t know who he is or how he got there.”
Mrs Canards’ eyes instantly turned to Robert, who could almost read her thoughts.
And who is we?
Robert hastily hid the smile he had been wearing since Miss Mifford had uttered the charming coupled pronoun and adopted a serious expression.
“Lord Delaney, Baron Bloomsbury,” he introduced himself, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, “I’m afraid I shall have to escort Miss Mifford home at once; she’s had quite the shock.”
He nodded at the two ladies - one plump, one reed thin - and escorted Miss Mifford away at a quick pace.
“The town gossip, I presume?” Rob queried once they were out of earshot.
“Not for long, perhaps,” she offered him a shy smile, “Between the discovery of a body and spotting me being escorted home by a baron, Mrs Canards is likely to expire from the excitement of it all.”
“As long as you don’t expire from it all, that’s all that matters,” Rob said, his tone most earnest.
He caught sight of Miss Mifford blushing beneath her bonnet; she had not missed the truth in his words. He should not like to lose her to excitement or to lose her to anything at all...
“Here we are,” she called with notable relief as they arrived at a gate bearing a sign that declared “Primrose Cottage".
“Er, would you like a cup of tea? No, I expect you’ll want to head on to Plumpton Hall to prepare for dinner.”
Given his title, Robert had never before been asked a question and had it answered for him. Rather than find it rude, he could see that Miss Mifford’s abruptness was because she was a bit flustered by him. She had also experienced a most upsetting morning, he reasoned, as he resisted the urge to tease her. There would be plenty of time for teasing, for he was staying for a week.
“You’re quite right,” he said, as he took off his hat to offer her a bow, “It’s best if I arrive at Plumpton Hall before my carriage, or my valet will think I’ve taken a detour to The Ring’O’Bells. Until this evening, Miss Mifford.”
Robert gave her the most flourishing bow he could muster and remained standing at the gate as she made her way to the front door. Only when he was certain she was safely inside did he mount Jupiter and continue on his way.
Mysterious corpses aside, it was looking like he was going to have a most enjoyable stay in Plumpton. Most enjoyable indeed.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN EUDORA ARRIVEDat Plumpton Hall later that evening, she was a little put out to find that her sisters were not at all interested in the dead body that she had found.
Oh, they made sympathetic murmurings about the man’s sad departure and offered quiet prayers for the repose of his soul - but none seemed as inclined as she to think there was something suspicious about it.
“It sounds like a tragic accident,” Jane explained when Eudora questioned her on her lack of excitement. “Perhaps you’re too young to recall, but two or three men have met a similar fate over the years. A sad reminder of the dangers of walking at night - especially when one is in one’s cups.”
Eudora’s disappointment must have shown on her face, for Jane’s expression softened. “I hope you have not taken Charlotte’s words to heart,” she counseled, “You do not need to solve a murder to prove yourself equal to us - you’re already the best of us all, Eudora.”
Eudora, who was not at all immune to flattery, felt her cheeks turn pink with pleasure at the compliment. Unfortunately, Jane was not quite finished.
“Nor do you have to marry to think your life complete,” she continued before glancing across the room, “Though, if Lord Delaney is half as determined as he is indiscreet, you might find yourself engaged by the end of the week.”
Eudora’s pleasure turned to annoyance as she followed the line of Jane’s gaze. The baron was standing in the corner of theroom, ostensibly chatting to Lord Chambers. His eyes, however, were not on the marquess but staring rather pointedly across the room at Eudora. Lord Chambers would have had cause to find it considerably rude had his own gaze not been distracted by his reflection in the mirror that hung over the fireplace. The marquess was a great admirer of beauty, especially his own.
“Lord Delaney does not wish to marry me,” Eudora retorted, tilting her chin stubbornly. “I fear that marriage has made my sisters meddlesome. A tragedy, for I was so fond of you all before.”
“Don’t be belligerent , Eudora,” Jane scolded, though her eyes danced merrily, “I am worried enough that my guests might turn on each other without worrying that you will turn on me.”
Jane glanced across to the opposite side of the room, where Lord and Lady Albermay were seated beside Mary and Northcott. The viscountess’s face was pale and drawn as she chewed anxiously on her bottom lip. Her husband, seated beside her on the velvet chaise, wore the expression of a man whose digestion greatly troubled him.
