Page 24 of And Then There Was the One
“Hmm.” This was nothing more than what Georgie had already heard through the grapevine of village gossip, but she hadhoped that hearing the tale directly from Severin would help her uncover some new, overlooked piece of information. “Had Mr. Penbaker complained of feeling unwell prior to that day?”
Severin paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “He had other complaints, but nothing that seemed unusual for a man of his age—he had terrible aches in his joints, for example, and he drank a particular tea that I blended for him to help with that. But otherwise, he seemed in fairly good health.”
“How did Mrs. Penbaker seem when you arrived?” Sebastian asked; he’d spent the entire time Severin was speaking gazing idly around the room, not seeming to pay attention to the matters being discussed, but he’d now glanced up and was looking steadily at Severin.
“As you’d expect,” Severin replied. “She was distraught. It was all the more startling, since she strikes me as a woman who is very collected.” He shook his head with an unhappy twist of his mouth. “It is always difficult when a spouse is present during these sorts of events, no matter how unhappy their marriage.”
Georgie blinked at this last, almost thoughtless addition. “Did you not think theirs was a happy marriage?”
Severin glanced at her for a moment, seeming to weigh his words, then said, rather carefully, “I have not lived here long, Miss Radcliffe, so you’d likely be better able to answer that question than I would. But based on my few encounters with them… no, I would not have said that the Penbakers had a particularly loving marriage.”
Georgie glanced quickly at Sebastian, and just as quickly away again. Severin did not miss this.
“I don’t know what you think you’re investigating,” Severinsaid, “but if you’re in search of a murder victim, I think you’re wandering down the wrong path.”
“Thank you,” Georgie said gravely. “I do appreciate it when men tell me that I’m wrong.”
To his credit, Severin flashed a smile of genuine good humor at that. “Fair enough, Miss Radcliffe. Good luck, then, I suppose.”
In short order, he showed them to the door and bid them farewell. As soon as the door closed behind them, Georgie turned to Sebastian. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Probably not,” he said. “Unless you, too, are thinking that it has been positivelyagessince we ate that porridge—”
“It has been an hour at most.”
“—and therefore we’re overdue for a midmorning scone?” His eyes were wide and hopeful.
Georgie did not roll her eyes, which she thought a promising sign of personal growth. “Iwas thinking,” she said impatiently, “that we need to work out a way to speak to Mrs. Penbaker next, without raising her suspicions.”
“But first, may we acquire a scone?” he asked, offering her his most blinding smile.
“Only if you promise never to smile at me like that again,” she said coldly, and he laughed—a genuine, surprised laugh—as he followed her down the lane toward the high street. And as they walked, she wasted at least ten seconds informing herself, quite sternly, that she did not like the sound of that laugh at all.
CHAPTER NINE
Georgie had come to an unfortunate conclusion: she was never to have any peace from Murder Tourists.
Disliking the idea of listening to Sebastian’s complaints of hunger pangs for the rest of the morning, she led him to the Scrumptious Scone in the hopes that he would eat a quick scone (or four) and then they could be on their way. By the time they arrived at the tearoom, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, though the sky overhead remained unrelentingly dark. Georgie carefully skirted a rather large puddle outside the front door and stepped inside, the bell overhead jingling to mark her entrance; she felt her hair begin to frizz even further, if that were possible, as soon as she walked into the inviting warmth.
“Mr. Fletcher-Ford!” came a tinkling voice from one corner, and Georgie glanced over to see two Murder Tourists holding court at the choicest table, a pot of tea steaming before them. They looked—well, they looked like precisely thesort of women Sebastian might have sidled up to in a pub, Georgie thought grumpily; they were both extremely pretty, wearing the sort of pressed white linen dresses that were wildly impractical for countryside life, but which visitors seemed to delight in wearing on their holidays. They looked to be about Georgie’s age; one had light brown hair that curled attractively around her chin, green eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the other had darker skin and a heap of shiny dark hair that fell in stylish waves just past her shoulders.
“Miss de Vere, Miss Singh,” Sebastian said, smiling winningly at them as he led Georgie to the table next to theirs; both women beamed back at him. “Allow me to introduce Miss Radcliffe—though I daresay her reputation precedes her.”
Georgie spared a frown for Sebastian at this introduction, which prompted an incoherent babble of delight and praise from the ladies the second Georgie’s name was uttered.
“—read everything about you that we could manage—”
“—were here in January, after the Mistletoe Murder—”
“—andimagineour delight when we happened to plan another visit, and poor Mr. Marble died, too!”
Georgie, sensing that little in the way of reply was currently required of her, gave a discreet wave to Mrs. Chester, who appeared with a teapot and cups a moment later. A murmured word from Sebastian had her bustling away to the kitchen. The matter of food settled, Georgie turned her attention back to the rhapsodizing Murder Tourists, who were now watching her rather expectantly.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I am… glad… that our criminalactivities have been so entertaining to you.” She thought she was keeping her tone quite friendly, but the scolding sort of frown Sebastian leveled at her indicated that she might not have managed it as well as she thought.
“It’s just that we’re awfully fond of reading,” Miss Singh explained, leaning forward in her seat. “Do you enjoy the novels of Mrs. Christie?”
“I have not read them,” Georgie admitted, taking a sip of tea.
