Page 27 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
“Oh, how exciting!” the marchioness exclaimed, as her hand unconsciously went to her bump. “If my mind hadn’t turned to mush of late, I might have been able to help. Oh, but I’m sure Ivo will be glad to share all that he has learned.”
As magistrate of Plumpton, Lord Crabb was tasked with upholding the law. Lucian felt something of a dolt, to have not thought to reach out to the viscount sooner. Of course the man had already carried out his own enquiries into Hardwick’s murder.
“A capital idea, my lady,” Lucian glanced at Sarah, to make certain she approved. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.
“Thank you, Lord Deverell,” Lady Chambers beamed, “I can’t say that I’ve had many of them lately. My mind has gone the way of my ankles and vanished altogether. Come, let us rescue poor Mr Dimblade.”
She led Lucian and Sarah back to where Mrs Mifford stood with the gardener, sharing her remedy for blackspot—“cut off every leaf and burn it mercilessly”.
Lady Chambers managed to persuade her mama to call a halt to her lecture series, with the promise of lunch in a coaching-inn.
“Thank you, Mr Dimblade,” Mrs Mifford called graciously, as she allowed her daughter lead her away. “It has been riveting.”
“If you say so,” Lucian overheard the gardener mumble in response, as he scratched his head in confusion.
The quartet returned back down the gravel paths on which the had first come, Mrs Mifford still harking on about her many cures for blackspot.
“You must share them with Mrs Canards,” Miss Hughes interjected with a laugh. “Mrs Vickery gave her a dressing-down yesterday over the state of her bushes.”
“Mrs Vickery does like to affect airs and graces,” Mrs Mifford rolled her eyes, finally distracted from her own intelligence.
“She doesn’t seem to like Mrs Canards,” Miss Hughes continued, her brow drawn into a slight frown.
“Well, of course she doesn’t,” Mrs Mifford sniffed, “It was she who told the whole town of her impoverished background. If it wasn’t for Mr Leek, Mrs Vickery would be in the poor house not playing Lady Long Acres.”
“Well, I for one am fond of the woman,” Miss Hughes declared firmly. “Impoverished background or no.”
“Good for you, dear,” Mrs Mifford replied in a distracted air. Her attention had been caught, Lucian realised by Baby George.
The excessively delicate Marquess of Thackaberry was standing proudly on the rim of the fountain, doing a fine impersonation of the urinating cherub at its centre.
As Mrs Mifford and the duchess cried out in dismay and general chaos broke out, Lucian caught Sarah’s eye. In unison, they both smiled, and Lucian decided that this was the best afternoon he had spent in a long time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SARAH HAD SPENTmuch of her childhood in Primrose Cottage, for the Mifford sisters had made better playmates than her brothers. As she pushed the gate open the next morning, she realised that it had been quite some time since she had visited the vicarage.
When she called on Jane and Mary now, the visits took place in grand settings. She was quite glad to return to the quaint, cozy charm of Primrose Cottage.
“You’re certain it’s Mr Mifford you wish to see?” Nora, the maid-of-all-work questioned, as she led Sarah through the cluttered hallway to the vicar’s library.
“I just have a question about last Sunday’s sermon,” Sarah fibbed.
Nora’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her mob-cap and her eyes none-too-discreetly dropped to Sarah’s stomach.
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to expound on it, if he can recall it,” the maid muttered, as she rapped on the closed door.
“I’ll put the kettle on while you’re in there,” Nora continued, in a whisper. “Miss Mifford is at home and I’m certain she’d love to sit down for a chat when you’re done.”
Sarah grinned; she guessed it was Nora rather than Charlotte who’d appreciate the chance to sip tea and gossip.
After a few moments and some ominous banging sounds, the door was eventually opened by Mr Mifford. He raised his bushy white eyebrows in surprise when Nora announced the reason for Sarah’s visit.
“Er, do come in, Miss Hughes,” he waved a hand in invitation. “Though you’ll have to allow me a few moments to search for my notes.”
Sarah followed him inside the overstuffed room, closing the door behind her. Once she was certain they were alone, she gave a discreet cough.
“Well, actually, Mr Mifford,” she said, her cheeks burning. “I haven’t actually called to discuss last week’s sermon.”
