A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Murder. Dianne Freeman

on your way in, Charles?”

      “He was headed to the earl’s offices not twenty minutes ago.”

      I watched the two leave the room and rose to my own feet. I’d taken Fiona’s words to heart about discussing my concerns with George. A house party was not likely to allow for much privacy, so if he was alone in his office, now would be the best time to approach him.

      Fiona was right. I didn’t want to give George the impression I had second thoughts about marrying him. I slowed my steps as I reached the doorway. In a manner of speaking, I did have second thoughts, but it was due to my previous experience of marriage and nothing to do with George or my love for him.

      But how on earth could I introduce the subject?

      I pushed myself past the doorway, through the hall, and down to the lower gallery. The house was massive, but if I remembered correctly, the offices were in the north wing, toward the back of the house. With every step, I became a little less determined to have this conversation. What if he did believe a wife should stay in the background, and I could no longer play a role in his investigations?

      The office loomed ahead of me, the door closed. I gave myself a mental shake. Better to know now.

      I knocked.

      Leo opened the door.

      Leo? Bother. Apparently, there was a meeting taking place. Leo waved away my protests and gestured me inside the room where I found not only George, but Fiona’s husband, Sir Robert Nash, Arthur Durant, Mr. Treadwell, and John Winnie. Nash and George were seated in deeply cushioned chairs, Durant and Treadwell leaned against a large mahogany desk, and Winnie stood at attention beside it.

      “Forgive the interruption, gentlemen. I only wished to speak to Mr. Hazelton, and I can do so at another time.”

      “No reason to leave, Lady Harleigh.” George stood and, taking my hand, led me over to his vacated chair. “I daresay you wish to know how Mr. Gibbs is faring.”

      “Of course.” In truth, I’d forgotten all about the steward and his accident. Leave it to George to assume the best of me. “His leg looked quite mangled,” I said, attempting to sit on the edge of a chair that seemed bent on swallowing me into its depths. “Is it broken? Is he in much pain?”

      “Even worse when the doctor set the bone,” Nash said, making a twisting motion with his hands. “He’s going to have a slow recovery, I’m afraid.”

      George placed a hand on the back of my chair. “He has a sister in the village. The vicar came by with a wagon to transport him to her cottage. The doctor dosed him with laudanum for the trip, and we cushioned him as much as possible, but I suspect as soon as the drug wears off, he’ll be in some significant pain.” George grimaced. “But he’ll be better off there where he’ll have someone looking after him. He’d never be able to manage on his own.”

      “I’m pleased to hear he has someone to care for him,” I said. “But how will you get on without him?”

      He nodded at John Winnie. “This young lad has been assisting Gibbs for the past month and seems willing to step in.”

      Mr. Winnie couldn’t be more than twenty. His light brown hair, oiled, combed back, and cut just above his collar was clearly an attempt to look older, but his lanky form and the sparse patches of whiskers on his cheeks and chin proved him to be quite a young lad indeed.

      “Gibbs says he’s capable and a quick learner,” George said. “Between the two of us, I think we’ll keep the estate running.”

      “And keep the shoot going,” Nash added. “Don’t forget the shoot.”

      The newly promoted steward had been staring at George and seemed to pull himself from a trance, before tipping his head at an older man I hadn’t noticed before, standing off in the corner. “The shoot is in the hands of your very capable gamekeeper, sir. I don’t presume to have those skills.”

      In an elegant motion George stood and gestured toward the man, who took a reluctant step forward as if he’d prefer to remain in the shadows. “Never fear, Nash,” George said. “Winnie is right. My brother is fortunate enough to have the best gamekeeper in the county in his employ. Tuttle here will ensure the shoot proceeds without a hitch.”

      “Aye, you’ll have woodcock, grouse, and partridges aplenty, don’t you worry.”

      “You’ll just have to worry about your aim,” George said with a grin.

      “It sounds as though all will be fine,” I said. “Mr. Gibbs has a home to recover in, Mr. Winnie will take over his responsibilities, the shoot will proceed, and by week’s end, Mr. Kendrick will be a married man.”

      Leo blinked in surprise before excitement lit his eyes. “Then I take it we have a date. I say that calls for a toast, don’t you think?”

      “Indeed, I do,” George said amid a round of huzzahs. “Durant, will you see what my brother has in that cabinet?”

      Durant and Treadwell both pushed off the desk and stepped around it to open a glass-fronted cabinet. “Looks like sherry,” Durant said as he set about pulling glasses from the cabinet.

      George shrugged. “I suppose it will have to do.”

      Durant poured rather generous portions while Treadwell and Winnie passed the glasses of sherry around, including one for me, which Treadwell handed off with a flourish.

      “To Lily and Leo,” George said, giving me a wink. “May they have many happy years.”

      “Remember, one’s wife is always right,” Nash added.

      Everyone laughed and drank.

      Nash drained his glass and made a noise of distaste. “We’ll have to do that again with a good whiskey, don’t you think?”

      “Before the week is out, there will be plenty of opportunities,” Leo said.

      The dinner gong sounded in the distance, reminding us all of the hour. George glanced around the room. “I believe we’ve settled everything, so I’m for dinner. Tuttle, we’ll see you in the morning, ready to shoot. Winnie, if you find it easier to take up residence in Gibbs’s cottage have his belongings stored for now.”

      The young man acknowledged this with a glazed blink, and I wondered if he would soon come to idolize George. He and Tuttle returned their glasses to a tray on the desk. The gentlemen came to their feet and made as if to leave. Leo stood next to me, and I noted he hadn’t taken so much as a sip from his glass.

      “You won’t drink to your own happiness, Leo?” I asked him.

      “Never could stand sherry.” He curled his lip in disgust as he set the glass on the tray. “That’s not bad luck, is it—not drinking a toast to my wedding?”

      He reached out to retrieve the sherry, but I stilled his hand with a touch of my own. “I’m certain it will have no effect on your happiness.”

      George stepped up as everyone departed. “Was there something in particular you wanted, Frances? I need to dress for dinner, but if it’s urgent, I’ll risk being late.”

      I leapt at the chance to forgo our discussion. Indeed, he had so much on his plate at the moment, I hated to burden him further. “No, I’d just wanted to check on the status of Mr. Gibbs, that’s all.”

      He raised a brow. “That’s all?”

      “And of course, I missed you.” It surprised me how much truth the statement held.

      George tucked my hand in the crook of his arm. “Then walk me to the stairs?”

      I happily complied. “Do you think Mr. Gibbs will be distressed when he hears Mr. Winnie has taken over his lodgings?”

      We slowed our steps as we reached a stairway I hadn’t noticed earlier. “This is the back way to the bachelors’ wing,” George said. “Closer to