“There you are.”
She glided into the room, elegant even in jodhpurs and knee-high boots. Both boots and jacket were black, of course. Trailing on her heels was Wolfgang, decked out as Constance had described to me earlier, and looking better than any man has the right to. The slate gray of his jacket managed to set off both the midnight blue of his eyes and the golden blond of his hair, ruffled from the hat he was holding in one hand, and the time outside and on horseback had brought roses to his cheeks.
Francis growled and pushed his chair back. I shot him a look, but to be honest, I was too busy gazing admiringly at Wolfgang to pay him much mind.
“Philippa.” Wolfgang snatched up my hand in his free one, and bent over it.
“Wolfgang.” I gave him my best smile as, beside me, Laetitia leaned in to peck Crispin on the cheek. I suppose she might have planned to catch his lips, but either she miscalculated or he turned his head away at the last moment.
I ignored them, of course. It was none of my business. Instead, I enjoyed the pressure of Wolfgang’s warm lips on the back of my hand as I told him, “I missed you at breakfast this morning. I’m glad you found something to occupy you in my absence.”
He raised his head, but held onto my hand for a little longer than was necessary. “It was an enjoyable time.”
“Like shooting at things, do you?” Francis asked disagreeably, and Wolfgang finally let go of my hand in order to turn to him. His eyebrows lifted.
“Pardon me?”
Francis’s brows lowered in response. “I asked if you like to shoot at things.”
“I heard the question,” Wolfgang said. “What I don’t understand, was what you meant by it. It sounds as if you are implying something.”
“I’m asking,” Francis said, “whether we have you to thank for being almost killed earlier.”
“Killed?” Wolfgang looked from him to me to Christopher, and then back to me again. “Someone shot at you?”
“I’m sure it was just an accident,” I said diplomatically, while Francis snorted.
“That wasn’t what you said earlier, Pipsqueak.”
“Well, I also said I knew that it wasn’t Wolfgang, so you can’t get me that way, Francis.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Laetitia threw herself into the fray. “Connie,” she addressed her cousin, “why don’t you and Francis sit with Crispin and myself for luncheon?”
There was a question mark at the end of the sentence, but it was clearly an order, or if not quite that, a strong suggestion. “I haven’t had the chance to get to know your fiancé,” she added, with a glance at Francis.
That was partly her own fault, honestly, since every time they had been together, Crispin had been there too, and she had focused on him. But be that as it may, there was nothing Francis or Constance could do at this point, except to agree. So Laetitia latched onto Francis’s arm, leaving Crispin, perforce, to escort Constance.
Neither of them looked thrilled about that. I think Constance is a little bit afraid of Crispin, or at least she’s not as comfortable with him as she is with me or Christopher. Considering how sharp his tongue can be, it’s hard to blame her.
Not that he’d use it on Constance, of course. She’s a dainty, lovely, soft-spoken young woman, the kind you treat gently. Nonetheless, she threw me a look of abject despair over her shoulder as he tugged her away.
“Chin up, Constance,” I called after her. “If he bites you, bite back.”
Crispin curled his lip in a sneer, but didn’t rise to the bait. They passed through the door and into the hallway and left the three of us alone.
“What is this about someone shooting at you?” Wolfgang wanted to know, sternly, and I turned my attention from the now-empty doorway back to him.
“I’m certain it was nothing. A stray shot from someone in the woods that just happened to pass within a few inches of my head.” And Francis’s.
Wolfgang paled. “That close?”
“Well… within a foot, at least. But we’re all just fine now.” I smiled reassuringly. After a moment he smiled back.
“I understand one of the young women from last night has passed on?”
“Cecily Fletcher,” Christopher said. “You may have noticed her yesterday. Looked a bit like Pippa. Same brown hair. Green dress.”
“Of course.” Wolfgang turned back to me. “Did someone shoot at you in the belief that it was her?”
