Page 27 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
Eudora froze, still with shock; the voice speaking belonged to Lady Albermay. If she wasn’t mistaken, the man to whom she spoke was Captain Ledger.
She strained her ears, hoping to hear more, but as the pair moved further along the hallway, their whispers faded.
Oh, dear, Eudora thought as she stepped out from behind the metal suit. She didn’t want to believe it, but it was looking more and more likely that Lady Albermay had murdered her husband.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER SPENDING Anight in which his only bedfellow was regret, Rob awoke in an irritable mood the next morning.
“Would you rather the burgundy or oxblood waistcoat, my lord?” Higgins enquired mildly as he assisted Rob with dressing.
“I hardly think it matters; they’re one and the same,” Rob groused. How could he be expected to care about waistcoats when he had missed the perfect opportunity to kiss Miss Mifford?
The ensuing silence let Rob know that he had crossed a line with his loyal valet. Higgins could tolerate many things - drunkenness, laziness, even the odd sharp word - but questioning the importance of matters sartorial was beyond the pale.
“Forgive me,” Rob apologised, most formally, “I should not have questioned the difference between the two - your eye is far more refined than mine.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Higgins replied stiffly.
“Nor should I have spoken so shortly,” Robert added.
“No apology needed, my lord,” Higgins answered, his mood much improved following Rob’s grovelling, “Short wicks are to be expected when one is trapped inside a house with a murderer. Why, last night at dinner, the late Lord Albermay’s valet was in quite a stormy temper.”
“Why so?” Rob asked, his interest piqued.
“Allen, the butler of the house, announced that Lord Crabb intended to interview the staff about the murder,” Higginsanswered as he assisted Rob with shrugging on the oxblood waistcoat.
“Why should he be annoyed by that?” Rob wondered aloud, “It is unlikely he committed the crime.”
“Perhaps that is why he is so vexed,” Higgins guessed, “The man is nearly as old as his late master and had been serving Lord Albermay for almost three-quarters of his years. It indicates that he is a man of great loyalty.”
“And great patience,” Rob snorted, recalling the late viscount’s decidedly cruel mien.
Silence fell as both men attended to the final intricacies of his toilette; Higgins tied a stiff, white cravat into a neat knot while Rob attended to the buttons on his waistcoat and breeches.
“A servant as loyal as he might wish to keep one of his master’s possessions as a keepsake,” Higgins said as he ran a brush across the shoulders of Rob’s coat, removing specks of lint which only his keen eye could see.
“Do you think I should petition his son?” Rob answered, a little confused. Such matters were usually left to the family to decide upon themselves. Matters were awkward enough without Rob sticking his nose where it was not wanted.
“No, my lord,” the valet answered, stifling a large sigh, “I was speaking of the doll found upon his bed. Lord Albermay’s valet was likely the only person who knew that his master slept with a childhood toy. Perhaps he would be pleased to know that he can bring that secret with him to the grave?”
Higgins approached the tall washstand and retrieved the sorry-looking doll from the top drawer. He handed it to Rob, who found himself inexplicably touched by the doll’s appearance. It was a crude likeness to a little girl, made from a mish-mash of long faded materials. A gift, perhaps, from a nursemaid…
“Capital idea,” Rob agreed, tucking the doll into the inside pocket of his coat, “I shall corner him after luncheon and give it to him. Did Allen say when he would begin interviewing the staff?”
“After breakfast.”
“Keep an ear out,” Rob instructed, solemnly, “You never know what tiny piece of information might assist with catching the killer.”
“Of course, my lord,” Higgins promised, though his expression looked somewhat uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Rob pressed.
“Well, it’s just Lady Albermay’s maid, Miss Reid, came to me last night and asked me what she should say about her mistress’ stained dress…”
“And?” Rob raised a brow.
“I simply told her that she did not have to mention it unless specifically asked.” Higgins’ face was now puce. “It is not a lie not to offer up information which was not asked for; it is merely an omission.”
