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“We have not finished discussing your situation.”
William placed his hands on his hips. “I have no situation.”
Amy poked him in the chest. “Hear this, my lord. I will camp out in front of your house and wait for you to go to the morgue. I will remain there in all weather and at all times of the day and night. Your neighbors will believe you have wronged me. Your reputation will be ruined. You will not be accepted in polite society. Your gentleman’s club will probably expel you. Your—”
William threw his hands up in the air. “Very well. Far be it from me to allow you to catch an ague by standing in the rain.”
Instead of showing annoyance, as he probably expected, she grinned. “Very well. When shall we go?”
“Tomorrow. I will leave my house at precisely ten o’clock in the morning. I will arrive at your house shortly thereafter.” He pointed at her. “Be ready.”
She felt like jumping for joy and then realized how very macabre that sounded. She sobered. “I shall be ready.”
William took her arm and escorted her to her carriage, which awaited at the edge of the pavement. He helped her in and closed the door, then slapped the side of the vehicle as a signal to the driver to move forward. As she gave him a slight wave from the window, he stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he watched her drive away.
* * *
Just to be certain not to give William reason to renege on his offer to allow her to go with him to the morgue, Amy was up and dressed and sitting at the breakfast table well before ten o’clock.
“My, aren’t you the early one today,” Aunt Margaret said as she drifted into the room. She always moved with such grace that Amy’s bumbling through life seemed even more obvious to anyone observing them together. Nevertheless, Amy loved her aunt and honestly did try to emulate her, however meager her attempts.
“Yes. I have an appointment with William this morning.”
Aunt Margaret sat in her usual seat and poured tea into her cup. “Indeed? And to where are you two off this early in the day?”
Amy swallowed her bite of egg. “The morgue.”
Aunt Margaret’s hand stopped, her teacup midway between the saucer and her mouth. “Did you say the morgue?”
“Yes.”
Her aunt took a sip of tea and carefully placed the cup in the saucer. “I know I probably don’t really want to know the answer to this, but curiosity has always gotten the best of me where you are concerned. Why are you going to the morgue?”
Amy leaned forward. “Last night at the book club meeting, William received a note asking him to come to the morgue to confirm the identity of a man who had been pulled from the River Avon.”
“Why William?” Aunt Margaret placed her hand on her chest. “Oh goodness, not a family member, I hope?”
Amy waved her hand. “No. They believe the man to be William’s man of business.”
Aunt Margaret cringed. “First thing in the morning? How awful.”
Amy shrugged and continued with her meal. “Best to get it over with.”
Her aunt cleared her throat. “Amy, love. I have always admired your—shall we say—spirited personality. I love your ability to create stories that people want to read and the gusto with which you conjure up fake murders and solve the gruesome tales. But even I am a bit taken aback by your enthusiasm about going to a morgue.”
Amy put her fork down and looked over at her aunt. “Yes. Perhaps you are right. I must put on more of a somber demeanor when we arrive at the morgue. I don’t want to appear too excited by the adventure.”
She continued to eat. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, what with William receiving the note and all.” Amy leaned forward and lowered her voice, lest any of the staff hear what she was about to tell her aunt. “Our book club is having a book festival in a few weeks.”
“That’s wonderful! I shall love to go to a book festival.” Aunt Margaret paused. “What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”
“No. I am not happy, because apparently the bookstore manager is going to try to persuade my publisher to have Mr. E. D. Burton appear at the festival and sign books.”
Aunt Margaret sucked in a deep breath. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
“What will you do?”
