A Murder in Time by Julie McElwain

Author:Julie McElwain
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Pegasus
Published: 2016-04-28T16:00:00+00:00

25

“You have no appetite, Miss Donovan?”

Kendra pulled her gaze from the steaming bowl in front of her to glance at the man seated on her left: Mr. Harris, the local vicar. Although, he didn’t look like a man of the cloth. Early thirties and attractive, he wore the same sort of uniform—cravat, shirt, waistcoat, topcoat, and pantaloons—as most of the other men at the table. He also carried himself with the same air of self-importance.

“Monsieur Anton’s turtle soup is nonpareil.”

She glanced at the chunks of meat poking out of the creamy base. “I prefer my turtles in an aquarium.”

He gave her an odd look. “What, pray tell, is an aquarium?”

They don’t have aquariums? She reached for her glass of wine, taking a hasty swallow. “It’s sort of a zoo, for aquatic animals and plants . . . never mind.”

The evening was turning out to be more nerve-wracking than she’d anticipated. The countess had put her as far away from the Duke and Lady Rebecca as she could, while still having Kendra in the same room. She was at the end of the long, elegant table, wedged between the arrogant vicar and Major Edwards, who was eighty if he was a day. The best thing about the old military man was he didn’t seem inclined to conversation, content to slurp away the evening with his soup.

The seating arrangements could’ve been a retaliation of sorts, but Kendra suspected it was more a matter of rank, the Duke being the highest ranking person and she being the lowest. It was, Kendra realized with a flash of humor, a mirror image of how the dining room for the upper staff operated.

She knew she was under scrutiny from the rest of the guests. The women had eyed her carefully. Rebecca had been right about them not wishing to risk the Duke’s displeasure by ignoring her completely—which, she was told, was the cut-direct. Instead, this treatment, Rebecca told her, was the cut-indirect—acknowledgment before being ignored. Georgina and Sarah had observed her with astonishment, retreating behind their fans to whisper.

The men had viewed her change in status with more amusement. At least, she thought she saw amusement in their eyes. More often their gaze was directed lower, since the rose gown that Mrs. Griffith had altered for her showed off her cleavage in abundance.

“You have turtle zoos in America?” That came from the woman on the other side of Harris. Kendra glanced over at her. It was difficult to believe that the insipid blonde was the vicar’s wife. Despite the bright canary yellow striped gown she wore, she appeared to want to shrink into herself. Except for introductions, this was the first sentence Kendra had heard her utter all evening.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mrs. Harris.” Her husband’s lips thinned. “Miss Donovan is obviously telling us a Banbury tale.”

His wife gave him a nervous look, flushing miserably.

Kendra picked up her wineglass and twirled it thoughtfully. “Actually, the Sumerians raised fish simply for decoration in artificial ponds more than four thousand years ago.

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