Page 46 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
The only comfort she felt in that moment was the strength and steady warmth of the man beside her.
“Everything will be alright,” Lord Deverell ventured, sensing her disquiet.
“It feels as though we have gone backward instead of forward,” Sarah could not help the note of despair in her voice.
“Something else will crop up,” the earl said with a certainty Sarah could not match. “You’ll see.”
She nodded and tried to coax herself into calm. As Lord Deverell led her from one stall to the next, she let herself be distracted—only half-aware that being seen so publicly in his company was bound to set tongues wagging.
It was only when they arrived at the quoits stall and bumped into Mrs Canards, did Sarah realise their walk had given rise to gossip.
“Miss Hughes,” Mrs Canards sniffed, her beady eyes gleaming. “If there hadn’t just been a murder, I daresay your little promenade would be the talk of the village.”
“How lucky we are that someone shot Mr Leek, so we can enjoy our walk together without the town-tabbies commenting, Mrs Canards,” Lord Deverell replied easily.
Mrs Canard’s eyes narrowed, though thankfully she was too much of a snob to dare goad an earl any further.
“Poor Mr Leek,” Mrs Canards sighed dramatically, “And no wife or child to inherit Long Acres; a shame to think his gardens might be destroyed by the next owner and replaced with a barren sweep of lawn.”
“Indeed,” Lord Deverell replied and Sarah saw that he was genuinely disturbed by the idea.
“Of course, how was a man expected to find a bride when his own housekeeper went on like she was lady and mistress of the house?” Mrs Canards shivered with distaste. “I do so dislike when servants forget their place, don’t you, my lord?”
“I can’t say I have any experience of that,” Lord Deverell answered, with maddening calm. “I have a retinue of very loyal staff.”
“Of course you do, my lord,” Mrs Canards rolled her eyes. “If you will excuse me, I wish to attend the cake stall, before Mrs Fulham snaffles every last slice. She must have been absent the day gluttony was covered in Sunday school.”
“Sadly,” Sarah murmured to Lord Deverell as the older woman stalked off, “Mrs Canards must also have been absent when they coveredlove thy neighbour.”
Lord Deverell gave an appreciative chuckle before his attention was caught by the quoits stall. A young gentleman was throwing rings made of rope at a board, attempting to land one on a wooden peg. He gave a whoop of delight as he finally snagged one and was promptly awarded with a boiled sweet.
“Would you like to attempt it, my lord?” Sarah asked, recognising the boyish desire on his face.
“Pfft,” the earl scoffed.
“Give it a try,” Sarah encouraged undeterred by his pretence of disinterest.
She didn’t need to ask twice; Lord Deverell had already parted with his twopence and was aiming rings at the pegs with grim determination.
If a player managed to snare all the pegs, they won the main prize: a jointed and rolled ham, which might have seemed an odd reward, were it not that young Mr Henderson was manning the stall.
Sarah wondered, just for a moment, if the earl’s fierce concentration had anything to do with a desire to prove himself before the peacocking, handsome young man who kept smiling over at her—though she kept this thought to herself.
The earl uttered an epithet—then quickly apologised—as his final ring missed the peg. He had caught three rings out of six, an admirable effort Sarah informed him.
“Three boiled sweets for you, my lord,” Mr Henderson said in a slightly condescending manner as he handed over the prize.
“Thank you,” Lord Deverell said stiffly as he accepted them.
“No shame in scoring three,” Mr Henderson continued, with a wink to Sarah. “I ain’t never seen no one get all six, excepting Mrs Vickery. She has an aim on her like Nemesis herself.”
“I didn’t know that,” Sarah said faintly, as her mind began to whirr.
“Of course she does,” Mr Henderson chortled, “Didn’t you ever see her shoot down a crow at Long Acres? Bang! Could get one with her eyes closed, so she could.”
Sarah frowned at his words as something clicked into place in her mind. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, my lord?” shewhispered to Lord Deverell, tugging on his sleeve to catch his attention.
“Another round?” the earl sounded surprise, but he nodded. “I think if I had one more shot at it, I could get all six.”
