Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

“A gun might have gone off accidentally.”

“Has anyone owned up to that?”

“No, and I don’t imagine anyone will, do you? No one wants to admit to being such a fool.”

“But surely someone else must have seen something? You were all together, weren’t you?” asked Tina.

“Here and there.” For a moment, he looked uncomfortable, as if he’d prefer not to answer her questions. He took her hand tightly and squeezed it almost painfully. “Lady Isabelle was in a state. Guilty conscience.”

“Guilty conscience?”

“That singer fellow. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Lady Isabelle is a great deal younger than Sir Henry and looking for diversion, and she’s found it in Signor Veruda. She probably thinks it’s all her fault her husband is at death’s door.”

“Horace, is she really . . . ?”

“What, having an affair with the Italian? Yes, I should say so.”

Tina felt uncomfortable with the idea, despite the fact she’d suspected it herself, but she was far more uncomfortable with the suddenly lascivious look in Horace’s blue eyes. “Tina,” he said, his voice dropping to an intimate pitch, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Thankfully just then Charles and Anne came upon them, and he had to let her hand go and move away. A moment later the hall was full of people, and Lady Isabelle appeared, pale and fragile, at the head of the stairs.

“I’m so sorry,” she said shakily, “but Sir Henry will have to spend the rest of the day in bed. Please, you must all continue with the picnic luncheon. No, I insist,” she hurried on, as protests were raised. “Sir Henry would insist. All is in hand, and my housekeeper will show you the way. Now, if you will excuse me,” and she was gone again.

“Eversham is making the most of it,” Horace muttered, and, following his gaze, Tina saw Richard in the shadows behind where Lady Isabelle had been standing. He was looking pensive, gazing down into the hall, but she couldn’t see who he was looking at.

Herself? Or perhaps Horace?

A moment later he was gone, and despite herself she felt the loss.

The picnic was to be held by the river, where there was a wooden pavilion set up with tables and chairs. Hardly a picnic then, Tina thought wryly, more like an outdoor dining room. The guests had a choice of strolling down or being driven, and Tina had decided to walk.

“Will we be safe?” Anne whispered, still shaken from the morning’s events.

Charles heard her and laughed. “Perfectly safe, Miss Burgess. Sir Henry had an accident, he wasn’t attacked by outlaws. And I’ll be here to watch out for you.”

Anne reached for her parasol, but Tina noticed the color in her cheeks that always seemed to appear when Charles was about her. “Thank you, Charles.”

He held out his arm for her, and Tina smiled to herself. She’d be delighted if her brother settled down with Anne, and not only because such a rich bride would take some of the pressure off her to marry a wealthy man. Charles needed a steadying influence, and Anne was certainly that. And, Tina admitted uncomfortably to herself, it would do him good to see less of his great friend Horace, who always seemed to bring out the worst in him.

In fact both Charles and Horace seemed decidedly lacking in character when she compared them to a man like Richard Eversham.

Branson and his wife were in an open carriage, rather rudely calling for everyone to hurry along, as they bowled past them. Charles explained to Anne that the Bransons had once owned Arlington Hall, before it was Arlington Hall, so perhaps they still felt proprietary about the place.

“Excuse me, Miss Smythe?”

She turned to find a young man she’d been briefly introduced to last night as Will Jackson. He was gazing at her a little shyly, but his smile was pleasant, and she found herself smiling back. “Miss Smythe, I wonder if I might escort you to the picnic? Richard . . . that is Mr. Eversham asked that I take particular care of you.”

She wasn’t quite sure why Mr. Eversham would think it his place to ask anyone to look after her, but as Will Jackson seemed sincere she simply nodded and took his arm. They spoke about the weather and the countryside, anything but Sir Henry’s accident, and after a time Tina had the feeling that he was deliberately steering her away from the topic. She couldn’t help but wonder whether there was a reason for that and what that reason might be.

The pavilion was big enough to seat them all, and waiting servants bustled about, serving the food and drink, catering to their every need. Through the open doorways and windows the river appeared idyllic, the blue sky reflected in it, but a chilly breeze was beginning to strengthen, and Tina began to wish she’d dressed more warmly.

“Lady Isabelle comes here to bathe,” the neighbor, Mrs. Branson, seated to one side of her, was saying. “There is a bathing house that can be pushed out into the river, for the sake of discretion.”

Horace, seated beside Tina despite all her attempts to escape him, nudged her. “Lady Isabelle and discretion, surely that’s an oxymoron.”

Tina shot him a look.

“Don’t slay me with your eyes, Tina, you know very well what I mean.”