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“Why, Lord Lawrence,” she murmurs, “I think you’re being most inappropriate. If someone catches us, I’ll lose my virtuous reputation.”
“I think your virtue fell by the wayside some time ago, Countess,” I tell her, nuzzling her ear, and she giggles. “I’m beginning to think you might be the murderer,” I say, sliding a hand up her thigh beneath her dress.
“That’s a shocking thing to say.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I wouldn’t deign to answer that absurd accusation.”
“So it is you, then. I…” My voice trails off as my hand reaches her bottom, and finds only smooth, silky skin. I lift my head and stare at her.
“Told you I’d take my revenge,” she says.
I blow out a breath at the thought that she’s going commando in that sexy little dress. “Now I’m not going to be able to concentrate for the rest of the evening.”
“Well, I need to distract you somehow from your outrageous claims.”
I chuckle and kiss her, cupping her bare bottom.
“Hey, we’re about to start dessert, so—shit! Sorry!”
We spring apart at John’s words, and all three of us give embarrassed laughs. “Sorry,” he says again, holding up his hands. “They sent me to let you know.”
“It’s my fault,” I reply, “I’m trying to persuade the Countess to reveal she’s the murderer.”
He grins. “Let me know if she gives you any clues.” He backs away and disappears around the corner.
Heidi giggles, and I laugh. Her cheeks have flushed, but she doesn’t seem too embarrassed.
“That was all you,” she scolds. “Naughty boy.”
“I thought the Countess needed some attention.” I nuzzle her ear again, but she slips to the side and starts walking back. “Come on, my lord. Time for something sweet.” She winks at me.
I follow her, eyes narrowing at the thought of my hand stroking up her soft skin. I’ll make her pay for that later.
We walk into the dining room, and as the others all cast us amused glances and laugh, it’s obvious that John has revealed what he saw.
“Sorry,” I apologize as Heidi and I take our seats. “I was questioning the Countess.”
They all laugh, and Heidi giggles, then says, “Ooh,” as she discovers the gin highball that Alan had promised her earlier in the evening. “Thank you so much for sharing this precious gin with me,” she says to him as she sips it.
“Of course,” he says, “anything for you two.” He smiles at me, and I know his words are genuine. I’m going to miss him and Vicky when I leave.
The waiters then bring in the desserts—served in tiny dishes, so we’re able to sample several different sorts. There are coffee and malt biscuit panna cotta, plum ripple ice cream with walnuts, chocolate brownie cheesecakes, mini apple crumble pies and lemon meringue pies, brandy custard choux buns, and banoffee Baileys pies. We work our way through them as we discuss the case, and when Rowena announces she thinks the murderer is Heidi, I mention the waitress’s comment about seeing her reading in the conservatory, and we all agree that we think it’s her.
With the meal finished, we take our drinks into the drawing room, and Alan officially accuses Heidi, who grins and says yes, she did it, and we all cheer. After that, the butler—who has miraculously sprung back to life—serves us coffee, and then we sit for a couple of hours, chatting about everything under the sun. We talk about the fertility program, but also about their jobs, their hobbies, and life in England in general.
It’s with some surprise that I realize it’s close to ten thirty by the time the evening wraps up. We all rise and make our way to the front door, and we say goodbye to Alan’s family and thank them for a lovely evening.
Alan gestures for me to stay, and so Heidi and I wait while the others filter out. When they’ve gone, he and Vicky come over and give us both a hug.
“Thank you for making it such a wonderful evening,” Vicky says. “It’s been a stressful couple of years, and our girls have all struggled in their own ways, so it was great to see them putting it all aside for a bit and just having fun.”
“We’ve had a fantastic time,” Heidi replies, “and our compliments to the chef. The meal was amazing.”
“What time do we need to get ready for tomorrow?” Titus asks.
“Five a.m.,” Alan says. “Sorry. But they only do the hot-air balloon rides at dawn.”
