A Suspicious Affair by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

nodded, scraping some thick sauce off the next dish so he could see what was beneath. Beef? Bedamned if the toffs didn’t buy such cheap cuts of beef they had to hide it!
    Meanwhile Foster was asking what was to become of those outstanding debts.
    “If Arvid had owed anyone, the estate would be expected to pay,” Boynton stated. “So the estate should collect,” he added hopefully.
    Remembering his own father’s burgeoning obligations, passed down to him, Foster sneered. Before he could make a cutting remark, Marisol intervened again. “I’m sure the solicitors will tell us what is correct. I, for one, would be more than willing to forgive any debts.”
    “Might be for the best,” Dimm commented, looking askance at the smallest little chicken he’d ever seen, set in a ring of peas and beans on the plate in front of him. He was supposed to get the meat off those tiny bones without picking the blasted thing up in his hands? Not in this lifetime! He pushed it aside and took up a forkful of vegetables, then noticed that they were all waiting for him to explain.
    The Runner slid a deck of cards out of his pocket onto the table. “These was in the wall safe along with the jewels. Fuzzed.”
    “What’s that?” Miss Laughton asked.
    “Shaved, ma’am. It’s a crooked deck. I ain’t saying yes, and I ain’t saying no, but those gambling wins might of been dishonorably come by.”
    Foster and Boynton were both eagerly reaching out for the deck. Marisol won, picking up the cards and handing them to the butler with instructions to see the things burned before they brought more dishonor to the house of Pendenning or Laughton. The butler handed the pack to the footman outside the door, who was the real winner, until he was caught out and stabbed by a very sore loser. But that was another story.
    Marisol was discussing the coming journey, leaving Dimm in peace to enjoy the next course, until the footman whispered in his ear that he was supposed to dip his fingers, not drink the stuff.
    “When you make the arrangements with the stables, Foster, figure on one less passenger. My maid Tyson has decided she’d rather stay on in London.”
    Dimm came to attention, missing the pastry tray altogether. “Kind of sudden like, ain’t her decision?”
    “Well, the whole move is rather sudden,” said the duchess. “I admit to being a trifle discomfited by her timing, but I do understand Tyson’s position. Her family is here in London, for one thing, and I really do not need a fancy dresser in my condition, for another. Tyson feels her talents would be wasted, what with the baby, and mourning, and country entertainments.”
    “Deuced disloyal, if you ask me,” Foster grumbled.
    “I do believe she has a
tendre
for Purvis, Arvid’s man, and that’s the real reason she wants to stay behind. There’s no purpose for him to travel to Berkshire, naturally. I said I would write them both recommendations.”
    “I still say it’s dashed inconvenient and inconsiderate. I mean, there’s no time to find a suitable replacement, and you should have a maid with you for the journey at least, in case you need anything.”
    “The trip to Berkshire cannot take long, even at the pace the physician insists I keep. And you forget, dearest, that Aunt Tess and I were used to doing for ourselves. We’ll manage.”
    “Especially if you wear your hair in that charming new style,” Boynton put in, drawing attention to the simple black ribbon keeping Marisol’s long hair off her face. Foster looked thunderous, seeking the insult in the fop’s words, but Marisol just smiled and went back to peeling an apple.
    Gor’blimey, Dimm thought, it’s a wonder they don’t starve!
    “I have the answer to the problem, dear,” Miss Laughton addressed her niece, after feeding the terrier half a pork chop. A pork chop! Dimm griped to himself. Now where in hell did she come by an ordinary, unembellished pork chop? He felt like challenging the rugrat for