“Well, I’m on rather an impressive streak of hosting excellent parties,” Her Grace explained, “a fact you would be aware of if you had bothered to attend last evening’s festivities. I see no reason to wait. The guests will join us on Saturday. I shall need your help to prepare the manor.” Turning to the girls, she suggested, “Why don’t you both join us? I’m happy to extend the request to your parents if you’d like. You would be welcome company for both Alexandra and myself.”
Ella and Vivi nodded assent as Alex sighed heavily, drawing a smile from her mother. “There’s no reason to be so dramatic, Alexandra. You like the country. Remember?”
“I know,” she replied with reservation, “I just hate the season.”
“Well, that’s all the more reason to get yourself married—and avoid having to have another,” her mother said with a broad grin that reminded Alex of her brothers on their most infuriating of days. She returned the smile with a black look as her mother kissed her on the forehead and turned on her heel to leave the room, saying, “Things will look better once you’ve dressed, my love. Girls, there’s a beautiful breakfast spread in the dining room—Cook really has outdone herself. May I suggest you join us?”
And, with that, she departed.
As the door closed behind her mother, Alex worried her lip, wishing that she’d never escaped to the orangery the night before and swearing silently that she would never eavesdrop on another conversation again. Now she’d made a mess of everything. She had no idea to whom Lucian had been talking and no proof to share with anyone that she’d heard what she’d heard. On top of that, Blackmoor had all but pushed her out of his study last night. This was horrible.
“This is excellent!” Ella burst out after the door to the bedchamber closed behind the duchess.
Vivi and Alex turned shocked gazes on their friend. Vivi found her voice first. “I beg your pardon? This sounds the very opposite of excellent.”
“You’re not thinking about it in the right way! A house party in Essex will give us a chance to search for clues and information in Essex, where the crime was committed! If we don’t return from the country with the whole mystery solved, I shall be quite surprised!”
“Ella, at the rate we’re going, if we return from the country with all of our loved ones intact, I shall be quite surprised,” Alex said, her words laced with frustration as she threw back her coverlet and got out of bed, ringing for Eliza to help her dress. “That’s it. I’m going to tell my father everything. We can’t do this alone.”
“But, Alex!” Ella exclaimed.
“No, Ella. This is not a game. A man died. We’re not in any position to solve this mystery ourselves. Blackmoor’s life is at stake. And ours as well if we don’t tell what we know.”
Vivi nodded in agreement. “I think Alex is right, Ella. We cannot traipse off to Essex to save the day—we wouldn’t even know how to begin to do that.”
Ella pouted briefly until she recognized the truth behind her friends’ words. Although she did allow herself a heavy sigh and a disappointed “Fine.”
The rich, savory aromas of a traditional English breakfast were detectable even as they descended the massive central staircase of Worthington House. Alex’s mouth was watering before the girls joined the Staffords in the dining room for breakfast.
The entire family was present for the meal, with the exception of the duke, who had clearly already been and gone; the seat always reserved for him at the head of the long mahogany table was empty save for an already-read newspaper. Alex tempered her disappointment—she had been hoping to catch her father before he left for the business of the day—and focused on the rest of the room. The duchess was seated in her traditional position at the foot of the table, listening to the chatter of Alex’s brothers, who were dispersed amongst the eight places that had been prepared along either side of the long table. As was to be expected, the boys had filled their plates with mountains of food and were eating with gusto while they talked.
Noticing the entrance of the girls, all three stood to greet Ella and Vivi, as was expected of them as gentlemen, and the two, in turn, dropped quick curtsies in response. As the boys returned to their food, the girls made their way to the sideboard, where Cook had created a feast. There were eggs, English bacon and sausages, sautéed mushrooms, freshly baked bread and churned butter from Stafford Manor, and a dozen other choices in all manners sweet and savory. Alex’s stomach rumbled and she smiled wryly to herself, thinking, Anxious or no, it seems my appetite is very much intact.
As she filled her plate, she listened to the conversation around her. “Mother, you cannot be serious. Four days in the country in a house teeming with as-yet-unspoken-for women and their cloying mothers?” Nick said. “Are you attempting to estrange your sons?”
“I cannot do it,” Will said flatly. “Last night was enough—if I was introduced once as the ‘Next Duke of Worthington,’ I was introduced that way a thousand times. It’s horrid. Those women want nothing more of me than my title…which I don’t even hold as yet!”
“Nonsense,” said Her Grace. “You are an attractive, charming, entertaining young man. Your title has little to do with your eligibility. They would be after you even if you were a farmer, or a butcher, or any other sort of untitled person.” There was a moment of silence during which the young Staffords looked at each other in shock before bursting into laughter. “It’s true!” defended the duchess, indignantly.
Ella and Vivi nodded assent as Alex sighed heavily, drawing a smile from her mother. “There’s no reason to be so dramatic, Alexandra. You like the country. Remember?”
“I know,” she replied with reservation, “I just hate the season.”
“Well, that’s all the more reason to get yourself married—and avoid having to have another,” her mother said with a broad grin that reminded Alex of her brothers on their most infuriating of days. She returned the smile with a black look as her mother kissed her on the forehead and turned on her heel to leave the room, saying, “Things will look better once you’ve dressed, my love. Girls, there’s a beautiful breakfast spread in the dining room—Cook really has outdone herself. May I suggest you join us?”
And, with that, she departed.
As the door closed behind her mother, Alex worried her lip, wishing that she’d never escaped to the orangery the night before and swearing silently that she would never eavesdrop on another conversation again. Now she’d made a mess of everything. She had no idea to whom Lucian had been talking and no proof to share with anyone that she’d heard what she’d heard. On top of that, Blackmoor had all but pushed her out of his study last night. This was horrible.
“This is excellent!” Ella burst out after the door to the bedchamber closed behind the duchess.
Vivi and Alex turned shocked gazes on their friend. Vivi found her voice first. “I beg your pardon? This sounds the very opposite of excellent.”
“You’re not thinking about it in the right way! A house party in Essex will give us a chance to search for clues and information in Essex, where the crime was committed! If we don’t return from the country with the whole mystery solved, I shall be quite surprised!”
“Ella, at the rate we’re going, if we return from the country with all of our loved ones intact, I shall be quite surprised,” Alex said, her words laced with frustration as she threw back her coverlet and got out of bed, ringing for Eliza to help her dress. “That’s it. I’m going to tell my father everything. We can’t do this alone.”
“But, Alex!” Ella exclaimed.
“No, Ella. This is not a game. A man died. We’re not in any position to solve this mystery ourselves. Blackmoor’s life is at stake. And ours as well if we don’t tell what we know.”
Vivi nodded in agreement. “I think Alex is right, Ella. We cannot traipse off to Essex to save the day—we wouldn’t even know how to begin to do that.”
Ella pouted briefly until she recognized the truth behind her friends’ words. Although she did allow herself a heavy sigh and a disappointed “Fine.”
The rich, savory aromas of a traditional English breakfast were detectable even as they descended the massive central staircase of Worthington House. Alex’s mouth was watering before the girls joined the Staffords in the dining room for breakfast.
The entire family was present for the meal, with the exception of the duke, who had clearly already been and gone; the seat always reserved for him at the head of the long mahogany table was empty save for an already-read newspaper. Alex tempered her disappointment—she had been hoping to catch her father before he left for the business of the day—and focused on the rest of the room. The duchess was seated in her traditional position at the foot of the table, listening to the chatter of Alex’s brothers, who were dispersed amongst the eight places that had been prepared along either side of the long table. As was to be expected, the boys had filled their plates with mountains of food and were eating with gusto while they talked.
Noticing the entrance of the girls, all three stood to greet Ella and Vivi, as was expected of them as gentlemen, and the two, in turn, dropped quick curtsies in response. As the boys returned to their food, the girls made their way to the sideboard, where Cook had created a feast. There were eggs, English bacon and sausages, sautéed mushrooms, freshly baked bread and churned butter from Stafford Manor, and a dozen other choices in all manners sweet and savory. Alex’s stomach rumbled and she smiled wryly to herself, thinking, Anxious or no, it seems my appetite is very much intact.
As she filled her plate, she listened to the conversation around her. “Mother, you cannot be serious. Four days in the country in a house teeming with as-yet-unspoken-for women and their cloying mothers?” Nick said. “Are you attempting to estrange your sons?”
“I cannot do it,” Will said flatly. “Last night was enough—if I was introduced once as the ‘Next Duke of Worthington,’ I was introduced that way a thousand times. It’s horrid. Those women want nothing more of me than my title…which I don’t even hold as yet!”
“Nonsense,” said Her Grace. “You are an attractive, charming, entertaining young man. Your title has little to do with your eligibility. They would be after you even if you were a farmer, or a butcher, or any other sort of untitled person.” There was a moment of silence during which the young Staffords looked at each other in shock before bursting into laughter. “It’s true!” defended the duchess, indignantly.
