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“Thank goodness for this interlude,” she said. “I’m starving and my feet are sore. They’ve been stood on so many times, I can’t feel my toes. And look at my shoes! They’re filthy.” Her delicate pink silk shoes were black at the toes. One of the poor hotel maids would have a devil of a time cleaning them tomorrow.
“Perhaps you should vet your dance partners more carefully,” I teased.
“We can’t all have our pick of men.”
I frowned. “Are you saying that I do? I’ll have you know I was quite alone until one of Floyd’s friends rescued me. I’m sure Floyd put him up to it.”
“You were alone for five minutes, and I can assure you Floyd did not put him up to it.” We shuffled forward in the queue. “Speaking of Floyd’s friends, what did you say to Jonathon? I saw him leaving in a huff.”
“He was being unkind.”
“Not to you, I’m sure. He likes you.”
“No,” I said quietly. “Not to me.”
We finally arrived at the first table and Flossy breathed a sigh of satisfaction at the array of roasted fowl, trifle, cakes, iced sherbet, bonbons and ices. “I’m glad you’re not interested in Jonathon. As much as I want you to marry someone rich and titled, he’s not deserving of you. Three years ago, he called me fat. I’ve never forgiven him.”
“Then he has just gone down even further in my estimation.”
Flossy eyed Miss Livingstone as she perused the delights on the table, only to select a single wafer before stepping away. She wasn’t the only girl to ignore the food. Most chose just one item or none at all.
Flossy sighed again, this time more heavily. She put down her plate. “I’m not hungry.”
I picked up her plate and handed it back to her. “You just said you’re starving. As am I. I think we should divide and conquer. You go down the left side of the table and I’ll take the right.”
We gathered a selection and met again at the end of the room. We joined Aunt Lilian, standing in the corner with her back to everyone. She was stuffing a croquet of pheasant fried in pastry into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten all week. Embarrassed to be caught, she placed her fingers to her lips as she chewed. Her fingers trembled.
Flossy gave her mother a disappointed look. “You’ve taken a second dose of your tonic tonight, haven’t you?”
Aunt Lilian swallowed her mouthful. “I needed it to get through the evening. If I hadn’t, my head would be pounding and I’d be falling asleep in a chair. This way I can enjoy myself.” She picked up another croquet from her plate. “Don’t glare at me, Flossy. You don’t know how I feel. Now, go. Leave me alone and mingle. Both of you. Oh wait, Ruth is about to make her announcements. This will be interesting. My money’s on Miss Livingstone taking a sweep of all three categories.” Her words tumbled out on top of each other, making her a little difficult to understand amid the noise of the crowded room. When she saw us both still studying her, she pinched each of us on the arm and nodded at Lady Bunbury, waiting for the guests to quieten.
As a hush descended, some of the debutantes pushed towards her, still vying for her attention even now. Miss Livingstone stood nearby, her serene smile in place, her pert chin thrust forward, confident in her position as the favorite. Beside her stood an older man, beaming. Flossy informed me he was Sir Ian Livingstone, her father.
Lady Bunbury gave a short speech, thanking her guests, then launched into her so-called awards. As Aunt Lilian predicted, Amelia Livingstone won the title of the most beautiful debutante, the most graceful, and the most accomplished. She accepted the three posies of flowers—white, of course—with a little curtsy for the hostess. Her father preened like a peacock.
Miss Livingstone’s rivals congratulated her and told her she was a worthy winner. Their smiles slipped off when then they turned away, and more than one muttered something under her breath.
With supper over, Lady Bunbury stood by the door to farewell the elderly guests who were ready for their beds, while the musical ensemble resumed their places in the ballroom. The younger guests were eager to enjoy themselves now that the contest had ended.
Except that it hadn’t. The scramble to secure the most desirable dance partners created a frenzy of activity. Gentlemen jostled one another and ladies scribbled names on their cards. Miss Livingstone was popular, but other girls were too. Flossy sported a broad smile so her card must have filled. My own didn’t fill up at quite the same rapid pace, but I had enough partners to keep boredom at bay for a little longer.
The ensemble struck up a lively tune and we were about to head onto the dance floor with our partners when a piercing scream ripped from the depths of the house.
The music stopped. The guests froze.
Being near the door, I was among the first to exit the ballroom and race downstairs in the direction of the scream. I found a lady trembling by the door to the library. She pointed a shaking finger into the room.
I peered in and saw the body of a man lying on the floor, legs akimbo. I couldn’t see his face, but it was obvious from all the blood matting his hair and staining the carpet that he was dead.
Chapter2
The library was soon overrun with guests and staff, but thankfully someone with an authoritative voice ordered them all out and asked for the police to be fetched. I had mere moments to study the scene before my presence was noticed and I was asked to leave too.
I was surprised to see the victim was a guest I recognized. Ambrose McDonald was the handsome gentleman who’d studied a painting in the ballroom, alongside a lady, and had given a maid something in the corridor. Jonathon called him a cad. Now he was dead, his sightless eyes staring straight ahead until one of the other guests closed them.
A large silver candlestick smeared with blood lay on the carpet nearby. A matching one stood on the mantelpiece. I picked it up to gauge its weight before returning it. Steeling myself for a gruesome sight, I once again looked down at the body. Going by his position, the victim had been facing away from the door and the murderer when he was struck. Either he’d turned away from the murderer, or he’d never seen them enter the library in the first place. There were no signs of a struggle on his body, clothing or around the room. All was in order.
The only odd thing about the room was a large blank space on the wall. Something was missing, either a painting or mirror. It was possible it had nothing to do with the murder, however.
