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“What are you suggesting?” Sabrina faintly asked.
“Are you saying someone tampered with the joints in that corner?” Ainsley asked in a horrified voice.
Royal, back to inspecting the first corner, stood up with an aggravated sigh. “The wood seems crumbly around the joint, but it’s hard to say for certain.”
“Tampering seems pretty damn likely to me,” Graeme said, “given everything else going on around here.”
“Who knows you sleep in this room?” Royal asked Sabrina.
“Everyone. It’s where the mistress of the house always slept.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ainsley sighed.
Sabrina pressed a palm to her forehead, where a headache was beginning to form. The most wonderful night of her life, and it seemed it had almost ended in murder.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ainsley regarded the enormous breakfast with a jaundiced eye. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m not even hungry.”
Sabrina grimaced in sympathy. “Mrs. Wilson and Hannah made an extra effort, too. Hannah seems to believe that rare beefsteak, coddled eggs, and kippers will smooth over my brush with death.”
“If you have any affection for me, do not mention kippers. Although I do think I could manage one of those cheddar and chive scones. Oh, and pass the butter, please.”
Sabrina passed the requested items. For herself, she was sticking with dry toast and tea.
“I’m sorry if I kept you awake last night,” she said. “I hope I didn’t snore.”
“Ha. You didn’t sleep a wink, I swear.” Ainsley slathered a generous helping of butter on her scone. “How could one, after all that commotion?”
Graeme had moved Sabrina into Ainsley’s room. Naturally, she’d have preferred to share Graeme’s room, but the dratted man had insisted and all but dragged her there. The ladies had been ordered to lock themselves in the bedroom, while the brothers patrolled the house for the rest of the night.
Sabrina thought it an overreaction. Even if her bed had been tampered with—an uncertain conclusion—there was no way to know when it had occurred or who had done the deed. She refused to believe it could have been anyone from the household staff.
Sabrina had returned to her own room shortly after dawn to get dressed and had found Hannah standing by the bed, moaning and wringing her hands. When the girl had spotted Sabrina, she’d shrieked so loudly she’d broughteveryonerunning from all corners of the house.
Sabrina’s life was turning into a French farce.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” said Sabrina. “You’d finally gotten to sleep, and then Hannah had to start screaming.”
“That was at least mildly entertaining. Poor Hannah thought you were a ghost.”
“Yes, and it was vastly amusing when the servants wrestled the blasted canopy off my bed and discovered Graeme’s breeches and my nightgown.”
Ainsley snickered into her teacup. “It’s certainly been an interesting adventure. Such is frequently the case with Kendricks.”
“This one is all me, I’m afraid.”
“That’s why you’re perfect for Graeme. You’re clearly as much trouble as the rest of us.”
Perhaps too much trouble. What with this mess and the prospect of facing her father’s certain resistance to their marriage, Sabrina couldn’t really blame Graeme for having second thoughts. He’d not even kissed her good night after hauling her off to Ainsley’s room, nor had he showed one iota of affection this morning.
At this point, she found circumstances more depressing than interesting.
A quiet knock sounded on the door of the breakfast parlor.
“Enter,” Sabrina called.
Mr. Wilson stepped in. “Ye wanted to see me, my lady?”
