They had no sooner settled into their chairs than their peace was shattered by a loud voice at the front door. Amy cringed and cast an apologetic glance at William. She drew herself up as Papa appeared at the doorway, a scowl on his flushed face.
Aunt Margaret stood alongside him, her elegant brows raised. “Oh my dear, dear girl, what have you done this time?”
CHAPTER 4
William stood as Papa and Aunt entered the room. Beginning to feel the effects of the sherry and brandy, Amy thought it best if she remained seated. The look on Papa’s face as he cast his regard in William’s direction had her wondering if William planned to take his leave. Desperate at what she assumed would be his imminent departure, she said, “Stay for tea, my lord?”
“Wethington, is it not?” Papa strode across the room in the direction of the sideboard. She’d forgotten how Papa knew just about everyone in the ton. “Care for a drink, my boy?” He tossed the words over his shoulder.
Boy? She didn’t think William would care too much for that moniker.
“No, sir.” Maybe William was also feeling the effects of the liquor, which was unlikely, since men seemed to handle it much better than women. Or maybe her father’s supercilious presence overwhelmed him.
“Cook is sending in tea, Papa.”
Papa ignored her and poured a brandy, then looked at Aunt Margaret with raised brows.
“No, thank you, Arthur. I believe I need a clear head to keep the two of you from adding to the body count.” Aunt Margaret settled on a comfortable chair and regarded her and William with curiosity.
Papa poured a brandy for himself and waved William to the settee across from where Aunt Margaret sat, her back rigid. “Take a seat and see if you can explain to me why my daughter is in trouble once again.”
“Papa, I am not in trouble once again.”
“Is there a dead man in my library?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
He waved his glass, the liquid swirling around. “Is he not the man to whom you are betrothed?”
“Not anymore.”
“Obviously. ’Tis hard to marry a dead man. Was he dead when he arrived?”
Lady Amy shook her head. Heavens, the man could shoot questions at a person so rapidly she wasn’t sure what was up and what was down. He’d done that to her for years, which was how she’d found herself betrothed to St. Vincent in the first place.
He gulped the rest of his brandy. “Then, to my way of thinking, you are in trouble once again.”
Amy drew herself up. “Certainly you don’t think I had something to do with his murder?”
“Of course not.” Papa rose and headed back to the sideboard. He refilled the glass a bit more generously than the last time. “However, the fact remains, according to Stevens at the door, St. Vincent was hale and hearty when he arrived, and now he is cold and lifeless.” He shook his head. “Nasty business.”
Stevens entered the room, pushing a cart with a teapot and several cups and saucers, along with a tray of tarts and biscuits. Aunt Margaret motioned for him to bring the cart next to her, where she would pour tea for those who wanted it.
Amy needed a very strong cup of tea at that moment to clear her befuddled head so she could deal with her father.
Papa studied the liquid in his glass. “Perhaps you can enlighten me as to why I found a letter on my breakfast table this morning with a note from my lovely daught
er that she had broken the engagement I had arranged for her. Then I take the day’s last train to Bath to discuss this turn of events and find two members of the Bath police leaving my house and a corpse in my library.”
Amy accepted a teacup from Aunt Margaret, her stomach rebelling at the idea of any of the tarts or biscuits her aunt offered her. William took a cup with a nod and a smile at Aunt.
“I informed Mr. St. Vincent a few nights ago that I wished to break our engagement.”
“’Twas considerate of you to inform me of this before it happened.”
“I intended to tell you. But I thought it best to get it over with when I found out some disturbing information about Mr. St. Vincent.”
Winchester waved his hand for her to continue.