Death at Wentwater Court by Carola Dunn Read Free Book Online Page A

house.”
    Daisy gave him a cross glance and set up for a second shot. This time the magnesium powder fizzled damply. Where was Carswell when she needed him?
    Her third effort was perfect. “But I’d like to take a couple more, to make sure,” she said hastily as everyone began to move.
    They settled back into their places. Marjorie looked furious, Lady Josephine distressed, Wilfred nervous, and James smug. Such a range of emotions could hardly be explained by a request to stand still,
Daisy thought. She turned her head and saw that Annabel had entered the room, with Lord Stephen.
    When she turned back, her subjects’ faces had smoothed into the vacuous expressions worn by the vast majority of people having their portraits taken. She shot another picture, wound on the film, and prepared the flash for the final exposure.
    Lord Stephen’s insinuating voice came from behind her. “You’re shivering, Annabel. You are cold.”
    â€œNo, I’m quite all right.”
    â€œNonsense! There’s a beastly gale of a draught in here. Come into the drawing-room.”
    A pause, then Annabel said in a colourless tone, “Yes, Stephen.”
    Daisy heard their departing footsteps as she pressed the button.
    â€œBetter take one more,” James suggested. “My eyebrow twitched just as the flash went off.”
    â€œIt might be a good idea, if no one objects,” said Daisy, though she knew he was just trying to make mischief, to leave Annabel and Lord Stephen alone together for a few more minutes. She was a bit anxious about her photos, and not at all sure the extra money was worth the trouble.
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    Dinner was as delicious and as uncomfortable a meal as lunch had been. After coffee, Sir Hugh repaired to the smoking-room for a cigar, and Lord Wentwater to his study to write letters.
    In the drawing-room, Wilfred said to Phillip, “What do you say to shoving the balls about a bit, Petrie? But you play a dashed sight better than I do. You’ll have to give me a hundred.”
    â€œAll right, old chap,” said Phillip with his usual good nature. “Though billiards ain’t exactly my game, you know. I rather prefer more active sports.”
    â€œWilfred would look less wishy-washy,” said his aunt, dispassionately censorious, “if he took up an outdoor pursuit other than attending the races.
    â€œOh, I say, Aunt Jo!”

    â€œIn my view, keeping fit is of the utmost importance,” Lord Stephen put in, running a preening hand over his black hair. “Besides a regular regimen of Swedish gymnastics, I rise every day at dawn, take a cold bath followed by outdoor exercise—skating at present—and then a hot bath before breakfast.”
    â€œDawn’s not that early at this time of year,” Wilfred muttered in Daisy’s ear.
    Marjorie gazed up at Lord Stephen with fluttering eyelashes. “You must be frightfully strong,” she breathed.
    â€œA cold bath and skating at dawn, eh?” Phillip visibly suppressed a shudder. “Sounds like one’s jolly old schooldays and I must say one felt pretty good then, up to anything. I’ll give it a try.”
    Daisy considered it highly unlikely he’d do anything so uncomfortable. He and Wilfred went off to the billiard-room.
    Fenella was at the piano, James turning the pages for her. “Why don’t you play some dance music?” Marjorie suggested brightly. “Do you know that new foxtrot, ‘Count the Days,’ Fenella? Or we could see what’s on the wireless, or put a record on the gramophone. We can roll back the carpet. Wouldn’t you like to dance, Lord Stephen?”
    â€œCertainly, if Annabel will grant me a waltz.”
    â€œOh, no, Stephen, I … I must not neglect my other guests. I have scarcely had a chance to talk to Daisy all day.”
    She shot a glance of desperate appeal at Daisy, who promptly moved to a loveseat and patted the