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“I find that highly doubtful, but you are the expert.”
That caused him to raise his brows in amazement. “You’re actually deferring to my judgment on a matter? Will wonders never cease.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, m’boy.” Agatha craned her neck to look at the paper in his hands. “Why did you leave off the women’s names?”
More improvisation. “They are less likely as suspects.”
“Hogwash. You yourself spent the first few days panting after Miss Hotchkiss, thinking—”
“I was not panting after her!”
“I was speaking metaphorically, of course. I merely intended to point out that you did originally suspect Miss Hotchkiss, so I do not understand why you should now eliminate all other women as suspects.”
“I’ll get to them once I go through the men,” James muttered irritably. No one had the ability to corner him like his aunt. “I really need to get back to work.”
“Go, go.” Agatha waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Although it’s a shock to see the Marquis of Riverdale tending to menial labor with such diligence.”
James just shook his head.
“Besides, Elizabeth is due back any moment now. I’m sure she will be better company than you have been.”
“No doubt.”
“Go.”
He went. In all truth, he didn’t much relish the thought of running into Elizabeth just then, anyway. He wanted time to go over the list first, to prepare his arguments concerning the unsuitability of most—that is, of all—the men.
And that was going to take a bit of work, since two of them were men James had always called friends.
Elizabeth was walking home later that afternoon when she bumped into James, who was leaving his little cottage. She had been tempted to take an alternative route to the main drive but had dismissed that as cowardly. She always walked past the estate manager’s cottage when she walked home, and she wasn’t going to go out of her way on the off chance that James might be at home instead of in the fields or visiting a tenant, or doing one of the thousand duties he was contracted to perform.
And then there he was, opening the front door of his cottage, just as she walked on by.
Elizabeth made a mental note never again to depend upon luck.
“Elizabeth,” he practically barked. “I’ve been looking for you.”
She took one look at his thundercl
oud expression and decided that now was an excellent time to develop a life-or-death emergency at home. “I’d love to chat,” she said, trying to breeze past him, “but Lucas is ill, and Jane—”
“He didn’t look ill yesterday.”
She tried to smile sweetly, but it was a difficult maneuver while her teeth were gritted together. “Children can fall ill so quickly. If you’ll excuse me.”
He grabbed her arm. “If he were truly ill, then you would not have come to work today.”
Oh, blast. He had her there. “I didn’t say he was desperately ill,” she ground out, “but I’d like to tend to him, and—”
“If he isn’t desperately ill, then surely you can spare two minutes for me.” And then, before she had a chance even to yelp, he’d grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her into his cottage.
“Mr. Siddons!” she shrieked.
He kicked the door shut. “I thought we’d gotten past ‘Mr. Siddons.’”
“We’ve regressed,” she hissed. “Let me out.”
“Stop acting like I’m about to ravish you.”
