She continued to chase the dog, several people attempting to grab Persephone as the animal raced by. Eventually the dog made a quick left turn, skidded as she attempted to gain purchase, and slammed right into the back of a man’s leg. He stood with another man, both of them deep in conversation.
When Persephone crashed into him, the two startled men turned and faced Amy.
Mr. Harris and Mr. Miles.
CHAPTER 17
The two men glanced at each other, then looked back at her. “Good afternoon, Lady Amy. Such a pleasure to see you.” Mr. Miles recovered first and gave her a slight bow
.
Amy dipped her head. “Mr. Miles.” She turned to Harris. “Good afternoon, Mr. Harris.”
“Good afternoon,” he mumbled. For a man who had recently proposed marriage to her, he now regarded her as something nasty on his shoe.
Eloise joined them, her face flushed, her chest heaving with breathlessness. “Hello, Mr. Miles.”
Mr. Miles nodded, ignoring good manners by not introducing Mr. Harris. Persephone had run off while the four of them stood and stared awkwardly at each other. Amy cleared her throat. “I, um, need to catch my dog.”
“Here she is, miss.” The young boy who had landed on his bum after the cat ran up his body called to her as he led Persephone in their direction.
She took the leash from the lad and backed up, almost tripping over the dog. “I must be on my way. Have a nice afternoon.” Amy grabbed Eloise’s hand and dragged her along, leading them and Persephone out of the Pump Room and past the Abbey. They turned the corner before she took a deep breath and stopped for a moment. She looked at Eloise. “Mr. Harris and Mr. Miles? Together?”
“Was that the man with Mr. Miles? That is your fiancé’s nephew?”
“Ex-fiancé.” Amy nodded. “It is possible they knew each other and were merely having a friendly chat, but when I ran up to them, I noticed how absorbed they’d been.” She began to walk slowly toward home. “Also, the fact that they both seemed uncomfortable with us seeing them together is suspicious.”
“From what you’ve told me, both of those men are on your list of murder suspects. Odd to see them together, off alone in a corner and deep in conversation.”
They continued their walk home, Eloise leaving Amy and Persephone when they came to her house. Amy and the dog continued on, surprised to see William arriving at that moment. He walked up to her, eyeing Persephone cautiously.
“Have no fear, William, I have just returned from the Pump Room, where my darling little dog escaped me and did so much running about that I don’t think she has the energy to attack you.”
They made their way up the stairs and entered the house, where Amy turned the leash over to Lacey. “See that she gets a treat, and she surely needs a nap.”
“Causing trouble again, milady?” Lacey grinned as she bent to pet the dog.
“Yes, indeed. She is not the only one in need of a nap.”
Amy’s stomach gave a slight—and hopefully unheard—rumble. “Have you had luncheon yet, my lord?”
“No. I have not.”
“Wonderful, because I am quite hungry. Chasing a dog all around the Pump Room will work up an appetite. Just give me a moment to let Cook know there will be two for lunch. I will meet you in the drawing room.” Amy hurried down the corridor to the kitchen.
“Good afternoon, milady. What brings you to the kitchen?” The Winchester townhouse cook had been with the family since before Amy was born. She was of undetermined years, round in the middle, a perpetual smile on her face, and produced the most wonderful food one could imagine. Like her kitchen, she was always surrounded by wonderful smells of cinnamon, lemon, and fresh-baked bread.
Papa had tried several times to steal her away for his house in London, but Cook had been born and raised in Bath and refused to move to “smelly London,” much to Amy’s delight. Her biscuits and lemon tarts were the best Amy had ever tasted.
“I wanted to tell you we have a guest for lunch. Lord Wethington is joining me.”
Cook broke into a bright smile. “Is that the lad who has been hanging about?”
Amy huffed. Cook also felt she was Amy’s maternal replacement. “His lordship is hardly a ‘lad,’ and, yes, he has been ‘hanging about.’ We are working on a project together.”
Cook wiped her hands on a towel and walked closer to her, lowering her voice. “You are not trying to find Mr. St. Vincent’s killer, are you?”
“No.” Amy shook her head. “Why would you say that?”