Wouldn't It Be Deadly by D. E. Ireland Read Free Book Online

neat appearance. “Welcome back to England.”
    â€œThe pleasure is all mine, Miss Doolittle.” He bowed over her hand and straightened with a warm smile. Eliza noticed that Redstone had remarkably pale blue eyes, made even paler by his tanned face. It seemed a friendly face, she decided, and took an instant liking to him.
    Redstone glanced around the garden. “I don’t know if I’m pleased to be back. I’ve spent too much time on the subcontinent. This all seems quite foreign.”
    Eliza looked at the rich people supping on cakes and champagne under white tents. “To me, too.”
    They laughed. She tucked her hand around Pickering’s arm and the three of them strolled about the rolling lawn. “Tell me how you snagged an invitation to Lady Gresham’s charity garden party,” she said to Pickering.
    â€œHer late husband, the Marquess, was my father’s closest friend. I knew the family quite well. Such a pity when he died six years ago. He gave the best shooting parties in west England.” Pickering nodded toward Hepburn House. “If these walls could talk, my dear, the Tatler could run stories for weeks.”
    â€œI insist on hearing a tale or two myself one evening, Colonel.”
    â€œI’d much rather tell you about Major Redstone. He’s a renowned scholar of Sanskrit poetry and was kind enough to leave Bombay and journey all the way here to assist me with a transcription project. At least he will once he delivers a paper to the Asiatic Society tomorrow.”
    â€œI promise to devote the rest of my visit to helping you with that palm-leaf manuscript,” Redstone said. “Luckily we have two years before presenting the paper at the Sanskrit Revival Society.” He turned to Eliza. “The Colonel said you’re working for Hungarian royalty.”
    â€œSo he claims, but who knows for certain?”
    â€œThe Major has been in the army and in India too long,” Pickering said. “Doesn’t much care for the company of the upper classes, do you, Reddy?”
    â€œOnly if they are true aristocrats: civilized, charitable, well mannered.” He paused. “And scholarly.”
    â€œA gentleman soldier perhaps?” Eliza asked with a smile.
    â€œThe best of all possible choices,” he said, eyes twinkling.
    â€œI’m afraid that if Maestro Nepommuck is as royal as he claims, he will only reinforce your low opinion of the upper crust.” She nodded toward the couple by the topiaries. “There he is with our hostess.”
    â€œI say, Verena is looking exceedingly well,” Pickering said. “She always was a handsome woman, but she looks even better now than when she was sixty.”
    Eliza stopped in surprise. “How old is the Marchioness?”
    â€œOh, I should not have mentioned her age. A gentleman should never discuss a lady’s age. Quite unforgivable of me.”
    Perhaps that explained why Lady Gresham had been so kind and solicitous to the Maestro. Even a marchioness could be flattered by a younger man’s attentions. And in return, she had introduced Nepommuck to the most important people in London. Every week he was invited to yet another dinner party or reception to hobnob with the country house set or those who had the ear of 10 Downing Street. No wonder he was such an obnoxious snob.
    When she led Pickering and Redstone over to the couple, Eliza took a closer look at her hostess. A large white hat shaded the top half of Lady Gresham’s face, but Eliza noticed fine lines around the woman’s eyes. At most she looked sixty, and an impressive sixty at that. And her high cheekbones, so sharply defined, seemed as if they could cut glass. So could her penetrating gray eyes. Eliza suspected she was not a woman you wanted to cross … or disappoint.
    Pickering and Lady Gresham greeted each other with a warmth that surprised Eliza. Nepommuck looked at the Colonel with