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When he remained silent, she said, “Don’t you agree, William?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he could wait until this afternoon and read the morning paper along with the evening paper.
“Yes. I agree, Mother. However, now I must leave for an appointment. I am sure whatever you plan will be wonderful. I await the festivities with great fervor.” He stood, placed his newspaper on the table next to his chair, gave her a slight bow, and left the room.
* * *
If Amy was surprised at his early arrival, she didn’t show it. Instead, she greeted him with a huge smile. “Good morning, my lord. I didn’t expect you so early, but I am happy to see you.”
“Things were a bit uncomfortable at home.”
She led him to a sofa in the drawing room. “Why is that?”
How much to tell Amy? Should he share his suspicions? She continued to stare at him.
“Mother is planning a dinner and wanted my advice on it, and you know how little I know about such things.”
“Yes, we all received invitations.”
He said, “She’s invited Mr. Colbert as well.”
“That is quite interesting. It appears they are becoming a couple.”
William grunted. “As long as his ideas of a couple don’t encompass anything untoward.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, William, you sound like an old shriveled-up spinster.”
He was gentleman enough not to mention that, given her age, she could herself be considered a spinster. Except Amy was much too lively, intelligent, and bold to hold that moniker.
“I was preparing to have luncheon soon. Papa, Michael, and Aunt Margaret will be joining me. I hope you will stay as well?”
A meal with another parent staring him down with that expression so evident in his mother’s eyes these days. “Yes. I would be honored. Then I think we should go as planned to Mrs. Whitney’s house and let her know her stepson has been ill but now seems to be on the road to recovery.”
“After all this time, she must be quite anxious.”
“I know. I feel bad about that. I would also like to visit with Patrick Whitney. I’m almost sure the police would have visited Mrs. Johnson’s house when her body was found, so he should already know about her death. But I do want to ask him a couple of questions about her and offer my condolences.”
“Wethington, good to see you.” Amy’s father strode across the room, his hand outstretched. William shook hands with him, and then Winchester slapped him on the back, almost sending him to the floor. “Joining us for luncheon, I hope?”
William straightened his jacket and smoothed back his hair. “Yes, sir. Lady Amy was gracious enough to invite me.”
Winchester rubbed his hands. “Good, good. How about a small drink?” He strode to the sideboard, poured two glasses, and brought one over. William ra
rely drank spirits before the sun set, but not wanting to seem ungracious—or possibly judgmental—he accepted the glass.
Amy’s father waved to one of the chairs. “Have a seat, son. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Both of them settled with their glasses of brandy.
Isn’t this cozy?
“Lady Amy tells me you’re still having some issues with the police.”
Issues with the police. That’s an interesting way to refer to two murder charges. The man must be taking lessons from my mother.
“Yes. Mr. Nelson-Graves is being most helpful. I hope to have them cleared up directly.”
“Good, good.”
