She looked rather terrifying.
As Isabel watched the lady come toward their table, Mr. Vance talked on about character and dependability.
“Mr. Vance,” Isabel said in a cautioning tone.
He paused his campaign. “Yes?”
At that moment, Miss Rightstone reached their table. She dumped the glass of hock in Mr. Vance’s lap and said, “Oh dear, how clumsy of me. Idoapologize, Mr. Vance.” Then she slammed the glass on the table and walked off.
Not everyone in the room had seen what occurred, but some certainly had. Their eyes followed the lady until she was safely in her chair, lest she circle back to the sideboard for a second glass and they also get doused.
“Well,” Mr. Vance said, dabbing up the spilled wine with his napkin, “at least it was not claret.”
“Gad, she’s clumsy,” Lord Lymington said. “She spilled wine on me once, too. And Mr. Groadstone last season, now that I think of it.”
“I suppose accidents do happen,” Mr. Vance said.
Lord Lymington nodded and turned back to Miss Thompson to continue his thoughts on the whales in the North Sea.
“She is exceedingly angry,” Isabel said, as that had certainly not been an accident.
“I do not have any argument with the lady, though she has an argument with me. Sheoughtto have an argument with the duchess, as it was the duchess who created false hopes. But then, I do not suppose she has the daring to spill wine on a duchess. I presume you are aware of the lady’s outrageous and highhanded plan to marry me off?”
“Um, she did mention the possibility of an advantageous match,” Isabel said vaguely.
“Advantageous for who, I wonder,” Mr. Vance said. “The poor duchess, she did not understand that I would refuse to be cowed by her lofty title and her own opinion of herself. I will follow my heart instead.”
Before Isabel could respond, and she was very glad she did not need to respond to such forthrightness, Lord Ryland strode to the front of the room and dinged his glass.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my annual ball and mystery supper. As you know, I come to you this year as a married man.” He saluted Lady Ryland with a raised glass. “My wife has been indulgent with me and allows me to continue on with this tomfoolery. So, let us begin. The clues are under your plates and the prize is exceedingly interesting. Let us find out if anybody can prevail over Lady Featherstone this year.”
All eyes turned to Lady Featherstone, who nodded like a queen to her subjects. The duchess, just at the next table over, gently touched her tiara, as if to point out that there were far more emeralds on it than could be found on Lady Featherstone’s brooch.
As Isabel took her sheet of paper from under her plate, Mr. Vance said, “I suppose we should get started, though I am never any good with these things.”
Lord Lymington said, “Neither am I—I can never seem to make heads or tails of the thing.”
“I cannot believe that true,” Miss Thompson said to Lord Lymington. “I am certain you are very clever.”
“Really? Why?” Lord Lymington asked.
“How could I think otherwise after what you have already told me about your study of the weather?” Miss Thompson said encouragingly. “Now, let us put our heads together and see what we can make of it.”
Mr. Vance seemed rather pleased with Miss Thompson’s maneuvering. He said, “Then I supposeweought to put our heads together and do the same.”
Isabel did not answer, though Lord Lymington answered for her. “Good thought, Vance.”
Isabel sighed and opened the paper.
Chapter Twelve
Ahush fellover Lord Ryland’s dining room as his guests read through the case he had prepared for this year’s mystery supper. If Isabel could hear anybody speaking aloud at all, it was only Lady Featherstone.
“Oh, I see, well, yes, of course, it could not be more clear, I believe I begin to see how it was,” the lady said, lorgnette firmly applied to her eyes.
Isabel began to read her own paper, fairly certain that she wouldnotbe able to see how it was.
Mrs. Lydia Roberts, age 46, was found dead in her garden on the afternoon of July 14, 1813. She was discovered there by her housekeeper, who had been out doing an errand for her mistress. Mrs. Roberts was found with her lower torso on the ground, and her upper torso hanging over the side of a fountain, her face submerged in the water. Dried blood splatter was noted on the edge of the fountain.
