A Lady's Guide to Etiquette and Murder (A Countess of Harleigh Mystery Book 1) by Dianne Freeman

Author:Dianne Freeman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2018-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

A better idea? I sank back onto the sofa, trying to comprehend what had just happened, when Jenny poked her head around the door.

“I was about to bring in the tea, my lady, when I heard the door. Has the gentleman left?”

I stared at her blankly before coming to my senses. Yes, tea would be good about now. “It appears he has, Jenny, but I’d like the tea anyway.” She slipped out for a moment, returning with a heavily laden tray. “I shall have to work hard to do justice to such a feast!”

“I expect Mrs. Thompson was thinking men have heartier appetites.” Jenny set the tea things out on the low table in front of the sofa.

“As it stands, one has left, and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of the other.” It was possible Jenny knew nothing about the impending visit from James Capshaw, but much more likely that she was in full possession of every detail. Her next words confirmed it.

“If Mr. Hazelton has left, my lady, would you like someone to sit with you when you interview Mr. Capshaw?”

I must admit, my brain hadn’t been functioning at full strength while George was taking his leave, but it seemed to me he said he would return. Still, I didn’t know how long he’d be gone. “Yes. Why don’t you send Bridget in? She’s working on some mending in my dressing room.”

I was just taking my first sip of tea when Bridget arrived, sewing in hand, and made as if to take herself off to a seat in the corner of the room. I called her over to a chair near me instead. “Since part of your job at the moment is to keep me company, please take a break from your sewing, and share my tea.”

With any other maid this would be an outlandish request, but Bridget had been with me for years, and was used to my oddities, one of which was calling her by her first name. Due to her station, I ought to call her McCardle, her surname. But I explained to her some time ago that it just felt too impersonal to call her anything but Bridget. I recall her blushing as she agreed to my request, so I doubt she minded. Taking tea together wasn’t common for us, but neither was it unheard of—nor was my confiding in her.

“Bridget,” I said, staring at the detailed molding around the ceiling. “I’m not certain, but I may have received a proposal of marriage.”

“From Mr. Hazelton, my lady?” she said, completely nonplussed. She added a bit of sugar to her cup and took a sip. “Did you give him an answer?”

I nodded and brought my gaze to meet hers. “I told him it was a ridiculous idea. That I would be a fool to marry again.” I paused for a moment, recalling my tirade. “That I’d be better off buying a dog.”

Bridget winced. “Sounds like an awkward conversation, my lady.”

“To say the least. But before you feel too badly for Mr.

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