Page 56 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
And then, even though he really should have been on his way, Freddie kissed her again.
Epilogue
A week after the ball, Emily found herself in her bedchamber in Northcott House, surrounded by her sisters, as she prepared to get married.
The room was chaotic, as each sister talked over the other, querying who owned what ribbon, and who had stolen the other's stockings.
"I believe that's my reticule," Eudora sniffed, as she spotted the small bag which Mary was clutching.
As Eudora was the sister who was most inclined to liberate accessories from their owners, Mary did not sound too contrite as she replied.
"You're wearing my gloves," the duchess pointed out, as she swung the bag by its gold-chain handle, "As well as my new slippers. Do climb off your high horse, Eudora."
"I'm not on my high-horse," Eudora grumbled, her eyes narrowing behind her reinstated spectacles, "It has gone missing, along with my good stockings, my silver pendant, and my new novel from Minerva Press."
"Well, I didn't takethat," Mary sniffed, sounding faintly insulted, "I do not indulge in salacious Gothic novels."
Just as she finished speaking, Mrs Mifford arrived at the door, fully dressed and clutching a copy ofBarozzi.
"Here you go, Mary," she said, as she thrust the book into her eldest's hands, "You were right, I could not sleep until I had finished it."
Mary flushed and quietly handed the book to Eudora, who snatched it from her hands with a smug look--her high-horse had been returned, alongside the novel.
"Look at you all," Mrs Mifford beamed, as she glanced around at her assembled daughters, "Like angels sent down from heaven to remind the world of my own youthful beauty."
"You're still beautiful, Mama," Emily said, reaching across to take her mother's hand, for it was the truth. With her fine bone structure and hair that showed only a few wisps of grey, Mrs Mifford was every bit as becoming as her daughters.
"Oh, I know," her mama replied, patting her hair with satisfaction, "I amverywell preserved--far more so than Lady Jacobs. We are of an age, but I am of the belief that she could pass for my elderly aunt, don't you agree?"
Her daughters mumbled vaguely in reply, unwilling to join in on an assassination of poor Lady Jacob's appearance.
"Why, Emily," Mrs Mifford breathed, as she finally took stock of the blushing bride, "You look ravishing."
Emily flushed, pleased with the compliment.
"Though, actually..." Mrs Mifford began, never one to miss an opportunity to critique, and Emily felt her shoulders slump as she awaited to hear that her hair was not right, or her dress full of creases.
"Actually, no," Mrs Mifford stopped herself, "You look just perfect; the marquess is a very lucky man."
Emily smiled, relieved to hear it.
"My second youngest will soon be gone from me," Mrs Mifford continued, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief dramatically, "Whatever shall I do?"
"You still have Eudora to keep you company, Mama," Jane called over her shoulder, as she assessed her appearance in the mirror.
Eudora's face fell, as she realised that there might be a downside to becoming an only child--being left alone with her mother.
"I'll never let you out of my sight, my dear," Mrs Mifford told her youngest, in what she supposed was an affectionate manner, but sounded less appealing to the listener.
As Eudora's face paled, Emily decided it might be best to change the subject, and she reached over to her dressing table for the newspaper article she had saved from the morning's paper.
"Mary," she called, addressing her sister, "Did you read this? You're the success of the season!"
Mary took the article from her, and scanned it with eager eyes.
"The Duchess of Northcott is such a consummate hostess, that not one of her guests realised that a murder investigation was being solved, as they danced the night away in her ballroom," Mary read aloud, her eyes gleaming, "Mr Victor Bunting, who is believed to have murdered Lady Hardthistle earlier in the season, was apprehended by several guests, but managed to escape. He was later discovered in a coaching-inn, near Bristol, and has been brought to London to await trial."
"You see," Jane said, cheerfully, "Your ball was a resounding success--you'll have to throw another."
