Page 65 of Mischief at Marsden Manor
Two young boys with the same surname and complimentary given names; was it any wonder that everyone thought they were brothers instead of cousins?
“I suppose as far as personality goes, we’re a bit different,” Christopher ventured.
“You’re much nicer than St George,” I agreed. “He’s a spoiled brat. You’re mostly all right. Although you have your moments, too.”
“I’m not denying it. I just wonder why it is that women fall all over themselves to get Crispin’s attention, but nobody seems to want me.”
I slanted him a look. “I don’t think it is that no one wants you, Christopher. I can remember quite a few times when I have had to take you away from some young lady or other hellbent on wooing an Astley. I’m sure both Lady Violet and Olivia Barnsley would be happy to have you.”
He made a face, and I added, “Yes, see? It’s not as if you want them, is it?”
He sighed. “I suppose not. Although if there was any fairness in the world, shouldn’t I have the same effect on men that Crispin has on women?”
“You seemed popular enough when we went to Rectors in June,” I said.
Christopher arched his brows. “What do you mean, whenwewent to Rectors?Iwas at Rectors for a ball. You and Crispin crashed. There was nowe.”
I brushed the consideration aside. “You know what I mean. There were plenty of men there vying to dance with you.”
“That’s Kitty,” Christopher said.
“YouareKitty, Christopher.” Kitty Dupree, Christopher’s alter ego when he goes to drag balls, is a raven-haired beauty not unlike Laetitia Marsden in appearance, whose wig, makeup, and wardrobe lives in my bedroom in London. In the event we have visitors, it wouldn’t do to have anyone find any of those items in Christopher’s room.
“That’s different,” Christopher said.
It didn’t seem different to me, but I shrugged. “This seems a silly conversation to have with a murderer breathing down our necks. To get back to what we were talking about before this discussion about Crispin’s appeal derailed us?—”
He smirked. “Crispin’s appeal, was it?”
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. I’m not saying thatIfind him appealing; you’re the one who said that everyone else does.”
“And yet you’ll admit that you thinkIam attractive,” Christopher said.
“Of course you’re attractive, Christopher. You both are. But never mind that now. We were talking about Laetitia, and whether or not she might have induced Cecily’s miscarriage.”
“She’d certainly know where to find the pennyroyal,” Christopher said, “considering that it grows just a few minutes from her front door. And this is her house, so of everyone here, she would have had the easiest time getting the leaves brewed into tea.”
“It would have been easy,” I agreed. “Tell them that Cecily had asked for her help, and then, when Cecily died, they’d all keep mum because they thought it was an accident and they wouldn’t want the daughter of the house to be implicated.”
“That would be clever,” Christopher agreed. “Is she clever enough for that?”
“She was clever enough to get her hands on the Sutherland engagement ring.” Or clever enough to get the Sutherland engagement ring on her finger, rather.
“There was nothing clever about that, Pippa. It was your fault. Yours and Crispin’s.”
I shrugged, even as I stuck my bottom lip out. “It’s an ugly ring. She can keep it.”
“You don’t mean that,” Christopher said.
“Of course I do. Itisugly.”
“If she keeps the ring, she keeps Crispin. Unless you think she ought to do that, too?”
“Unless she killed Cecily,” I said, “she keeps him anyway.”
“We’d best get busy trying to prove she killed Cecily, then.”
I sighed. “When Constable Collins comes back upstairs and relieves us of duty, I suppose it couldn’t hurt for us to go and talk to some people.”
