Page 86 of The Tartan Trap

“Who do you think it was?” Callum asked Lily.

“I think…” she started, then looked around the table. She took a fortifying breath and said, “I think it might have been one of the servants.”

“Typical,” Beatrice said sarcastically. “Just another upper-class nobility blaming the working class.”

Callum held up a hand. “Hear her out. Why do you think it was a servant?”

“Because no one ever sees them,” she said. “Not truly. They can move about the house without being noticed.”

Callum nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Very astute of you. However…if I’m asked to name a killer, my vote is still for Margaret.”

“Why on earth would you suspect me?” Margaret said. She couldn’t tell if she was offended that he’d accuse her of such a thing or delighted by his attention.

“Yes,” Rachel said, her eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would you blame Margaret?”

Just then, Lord Lawrence strode into the room, wearing a fresh shirt. Lily gasped at his appearance; there was the ghost of beet juice along his neck and jaw.

“Yes,” he said, ruefully, eyeing his place setting where several covered dishes awaited. “Dreadfully sorry about that—I did my best to remove it.”

“Apparently, that stuff stains.” Callum pushed back from the table just as Lord Lawrence laid his hand on the back of his own chair. “Lord Lawrence, if you would be so kind as to help me with a demonstration?”

“Of course,” Lord Lawrence said, his eyes shooting a longing gaze at the dishes.

“If you could stand near the fireplace, please. Brace your arm upon the mantle, and stare down into the embers, as if you were deep in contemplation.”

Calvin complied with his request.

“Margaret, will you please join us?”

Margaret stood, and Callum pulled a silver candlestick down from the mantle. He blew the taper out and removed it. Then he placed the candlestick into her hand and surrounded her hand with his own. The feel of him so close to her and the warmth of his hand around hers was intoxicating. She couldn’t stop her blush. She hoped that the other guests would attribute it to her acting out the crime.

“I beg your pardon, Margaret,” Callum said. “But if you came at him like this…”

Callum swung the candlestick up, and then brought it gently down, just behind Calvin’s ear, where the beet juice still stained his blond hair.

“Do you see? We all assumed that the killer had to be tall in order to strike him down. But in this arrangement, Margaret could have done so quite nicely. Lord Lawrence, if you would be so kind as to fall upon the ground.”

Calvin was more than happy to oblige. He flopped down with such a realistic performance that Lily gasped.

“I’m quite all right, Miss Preston,” he said cheerfully, “only getting into the spirit of things, you see. I’m grateful to have a more active role this time. I was rather disappointed earlier, just to be the aftermath.”

Callum grinned. “Although the stab wounds were in his front, I would posit that Margaret did so after the man had already been felled by the candlestick. Everyone naturally discounted her because she was too short in stature. It would be the perfect way to get away with the murder.”

“Very interesting,” Rachel said, narrowing her eyes at Margaret.

Margaret frowned. “Let’s not get carried away here. You’ve only proven that I might have been able to commit the crime, not that I actually did.”

“A fair point,” Callum conceded. He gallantly helped Calvin off the floor and pulled out Margaret’s chair for her before regaining his seat.

“I suppose there could be other suspects amongst us, but we mustn’t count out Margaret just because of her size. One would be foolish to count Margaret out at all,” he said lightly.

Something unfurled in Margaret’s stomach at the words.

Silly nonsense, she chided herself. Why on earth should she be feeling warm and languid because Callum had accused her of murder?

“Indeed,” Rachel said. “I think Margaret capable of anything.”

“Absolutely.” Callum met Margaret’s eyes. “I’ve no doubt that she could fell a man twice the size of Calvin.”