Page 58 of A Body, A Baron, and Miss Mifford
“The doll,” Eudora breathed, snatching it from him to examine it, “I forgot that it was found at the murder scene.”
“Mr Cartwright said that it didn’t belong to his master, but my valet insisted I try to return the thing to his son,” Rob said, as he reluctantly wiped his face with her handkerchief. He didn’t wish to ruin the fine cloth, which was embroidered with her initials in one corner.
Rob stiffened as he did a double-take to ensure his eyes were not mistaken.
“J-A-M,” he read aloud, “Are you particularly fond of preserves, Miss Mifford, or was this a love token from an admirer?”
He was not usually a jealous man, but at that moment, Rob felt ready to run through this J.A.M. fellow with a sword.
“Oh, that handkerchief belongs to Mr Lowell,” Eudora replied, her answer little helping Rob’s jealous rage.
“He loaned it to me; I just forgot to return it. I expect the initials belong to one of his admirers,” she finished hastily.
Rob had several questions, the foremost of which was how much time Eudora had spent in Mr Lowell’s company. He did not get a chance to ask her anything, however, for her head turned at the sound of hooves cantering slowly up the driveway.
“Who’s that?” she called, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as she squinted into the distance. “Why, I think it’s Dr Bates!”
With lightning speed, Eudora picked up the hem of her skirt and rushed across the muddy path toward the good doctor—leaving Rob with little option but to follow her.
Not that he minded, for he would—he thought with a smidgen of despair—follow her to the ends of the earth until she answered him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AS SHE RAN, Eudora wasn’t entirely sure if she was running toward Dr Bates or away from Lord Delaney.
Robert’s patent jealousy at finding out that the handkerchief belonged to Mr Lowell had set off a cascade of guilt within her—and something else. Eudora had never inspired jealousy in a man before, especially not in one as handsome and strong as the baron, and the knowledge of her new power was a little alarming.
Thank goodness for the arrival of the village doctor, who was attempting to dismount his steed in the yard with help from one of the stable boys.
“Yes, thank you,” Dr Bates said brusquely, as his boots finally hit firm ground, “I was quite capable of dismounting myself.”
The stable hand looked suitably sceptical, but he kept quiet. Dr Bates noted his dubious mien and gave a huff of annoyance.
“Tell me, lad, where is Lord Crabb? I have news on the body that was found.”
Eudora let out a gasp, and beside her, Lord Delaney let out a whistle of surprise.
“I expect Lord Crabb is still asleep, my good man,” Robert said as he took charge. “But if you have urgent news, share it with me.”
“I was hoping to speak with Lord Crabb myself,” Dr Bates answered peevishly, “Over a glass of Armagnac, he said he had a fine bottle in his cellar.”
“I don’t think the viscount would mind if we opened a bottle to warm ourselves,” Rob answered congenially. “Why don’t you come inside where it’s warm?”
Lord Delaney gestured for the doctor to lead, then followed him, discreetly winking at Eudora.
She tailed them at a considerate distance, certain the doctor would object to her presence. Dr Bates was not the type of man who believed in discussing corpses in front of young ladies.
Robert led Dr Bates through the entrance hall and down the corridor to Ivo’s library, where he helpfully left the door ajar so Eudora could listen in.
“Please, take a seat,” she heard Robert say as she pressed her ear close to the door. “What was it that you wished to tell Lord Crabb? Were there any signs of mischief surrounding the man’s death?”
“Just a small glass of Armagnac to start,” Dr Bates stressed loudly, obviously afraid that his earlier hint had been too subtle.
“Of course, I’ll call for a footman in a moment,” Eudora could hear the bite of annoyance in Rob’s voice, “Please, do tell me what you learned from examining the body.”
Dr Bates sighed so loudly that it was audible even to Eudora.
“There was nothing much of note,” the doctor conceded, “From what I could see, the old man expired from natural causes. His heart, or perhaps his lungs—there was a lot of strange white dust in his pockets and shoes.”
