The comment fell into a sudden silence. Some of the others colored, while Clara Myles and Cedric Trewarren, who had chatted earlier with Barnaby, looked confused; they were the only ones in the group who had caught up with recent developments. Gerrard debated stepping in and, as an outsider able to claim complete ignorance, baldly asking what the devil Jordan meant-Jacqueline beat him to it.

She frowned, openly puzzled. “Whatever do you mean, Jordan? What rumors?”

Jordan blinked. He studied her face; his leached of all expression. He glanced around the circle. “I-ah…that is…”

Eleanor, beside Jacqueline, leaned closer and laid a hand on her arm. “What Jordan means”-she lowered her voice-“is that, what with the discovery of Thomas’s body in your gardens, the ill-informed have been indulging in speculation. We just wanted you to know we don’t believe a word of it.”

Jacqueline met Eleanor’s eyes; she held to her puzzled frown for a moment longer, then let it dissolve into an understanding smile. “Dear Eleanor.” She patted Eleanor’s hand. “You’re such a good friend, but truly, now Thomas’s body has been found, the only question in the minds of those who know the details is who the man who killed him was.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened. She searched Jacqueline’s face. “Man?”

Jacqueline nodded; she was starting to enjoy this-enjoy tackling the rumors directly. “It seems Thomas went with some man up to the point on the northern ridge, then the man hit him with a rock and killed him. The body rolled down into the garden and the killer covered it with cypress needles.”

Clara shivered. “It’s horrible even to think of.”

“It must have been a shock to realize it was Thomas’s body.” Giles looked politely inquisitive, but there was also understanding in his gaze. “Mama said it was you who identified Thomas’s watch.”

Jacqueline nodded. “It was a shock at the time. Now I just feel sad. It’s terrible to think of some man killing Thomas like that.”

Gerrard listened as she responded to helpful questions, using them to reiterate the facts they wished stressed, steadily dissipating the cloud of, as Eleanor had termed it, ill-informed speculation. Jacqueline referred any who asked for more details to Barnaby.

Jordan and Eleanor exchanged glances; they clearly felt awkward over having commented on rumors that were being so openly debunked. They remained unusually silent, but they listened as the others drew Jacqueline out, and she obliged. She’d grown rock-steady over how to present their case; her assurance and self-confidence increasingly showed.

It was a convincing performance.

By the time Millicent summoned them, declaring herself ready to leave, Gerrard had no doubt that, with steady application, they would lay the killer’s whispers to rest.


They returned to the Hall just in time for luncheon. To their surprise, Lord Tregonning joined them; he was eager to hear the results of their first foray. Mitchel Cunningham was out about the estate, allowing a more relaxed exchange of information. Barnaby was in fine fettle-he actually made Lord Tregonning laugh.

Gerrard looked at Jacqueline, saw the change in her face, in her eyes, and knew it had been a long time since she’d heard such a sound from her father. She blinked and looked down. After a moment, she patted her lips with her napkin and looked up once more, composed again.

That moment of fleeting emotion prodded Gerrard; he needed to get started on the painting. When they rose from the table, he confirmed that they would leave at three o’clock for Lady Tannahay’s.

In the front hall, he bowed to Millicent and Jacqueline. “I need to sort things out in the studio. I’ll join you here at three.”

“Yes, of course, dear.” Millicent waved him off and swept toward the parlor. Barnaby followed, continuing their conversation regarding the new police force in the capital.

Jacqueline remained. She met his eyes. “Thank you for your support this morning.”

He held her gaze, then, reaching out, took her hand, smoothly raised it to his lips and lightly kissed. “It was entirely my pleasure. I’m glad we made such a good fist of it.”

He released her. Turning, he left her, but was aware that she watched him walk away, until he turned the corner and passed out of her sight.


What ho?” Barnaby strolled through the studio door, and looked around with interest.

Gerrard glanced up from the sketches he was sorting, grunted, then returned to his task.

Barnaby drifted about the room, eventually stopping by the window. Leaning his shoulders against the frame, he sank his hands into his pockets and looked at Gerrard. “So-how long do you think it’s going to take?”

“The portrait?” Gerrard replaced one sketch on the table with one of those he held in his hands. Critically examining the series laid out before him, he murmured, “I think I can do it fairly quickly. Some portraits form a lot faster than others-in this case, I already know exactly what I want to show, how the whole has to look. I just need to get to it.”

Head on one side, he studied the sketches. “I’m going to paint the setting first, then pose Jacqueline separately, and place her in it. Given I know how I want to portray both…a month might see it done.”

“Hmm…” Barnaby had been studying him. “I can see you’re keen to get started-there’s no reason you need to act as social escort.”

Gerrard glanced up.

Barnaby struck a pose. “Devoted friend that I am, I’m prepared to make a telling sacrifice and take your place at every blessed afternoon tea.”

Gerrard laughed. “I’m not that gullible. You love gossiping, especially being the center of attention when there’s a murder to discuss. And although the dear ladies might not know it, I know you’re sounding them out, ferreting about for any little clues they have tucked away under their bonnets.”

Unrepentant, Barnaby grinned. “True. But I meant what I said. If you’d rather stay here and get a start on the portrait, I’ll engage to stick by Jacqueline’s side. Besides, if I understood Millicent correctly, this afternoon will be a private call.”

Perched on his stool, Gerrard stared at his sketches. They called to him, lured him to focus on them, on the painting he would create from them; he was itching to commence. Barnaby’s offer was tempting, except…

He shook his head. “No. I’ll play escort, too. We did well this morning, partly because we could divide and conquer. You’re a dab hand with the matrons, and I can wield my exotic status to good effect with the younger crew. Together, we’re the perfect support for Millicent and Jacqueline.”

And if he wasn’t with them, by Jacqueline’s side, ready and able to ease her path, to ensure no one did anything to damage her emerging confidence…he’d never be able to concentrate on painting, anyway. “Let’s leave things as they are-I can paint at night.”

Barnaby studied his expression, which he kept studiously impassive, then nodded. “If you’re sure.” Barnaby pushed away from the window. “I’ll leave you to it, then-I’ll see you in the front hall at three o’clock.”

Gerrard nodded, and let his sketches claim him once more.


Their call on Lady Tannahay, at nearby Tannahay Grange, proved to be as Barnaby had foreseen, a private call. Millicent sent in her card; within minutes, they were ushered into the presence of her old friend.

Elsevia-Elsie-Lady Tannahay, was a gracious lady a few years senior to Millicent; she greeted them with unreserved friendliness, and a shrewd look in her eye. She waved them to seats in her comfortable drawing room. “Do sit down. You positively must tell me all about this strange business of poor Thomas Entwhistle’s body.”

Millicent was only too ready to do so; Gerrard sat back and watched while she, with sterling support from Barnaby, explained all that was now known of how Thomas Entwhistle had died.

By the time they’d taken tea, disposed of a plate of delicious cakes, and their tale was told, Lady Tannahay had dropped all pretense of idle interest.

“Well!” She sat back and regarded them all, then brought her gaze to rest on Jacqueline. “My dear, I do hope you’ll permit me to share this news-all you’ve told me-with Sir Harvey and Madeline Entwhistle. Poor dears, they’ve never been sure what to think, and”-Lady Tannahay’s bright eyes flashed-“I can imagine only too well what that doddering fool Godfrey Marks would have said-or more to the point, not said, if you take my meaning.”

Her ladyship fell silent, apparently pondering the failings of Sir Godfrey, then she refocused on Jacqueline. “While knowing Thomas’s body has finally been found is a relief in itself, knowing more-especially who they don’t have to suspect-will greatly ease Harvey and Maddy’s minds. Please do say I may tell them all you’ve told me?”

Jacqueline smiled, understanding and compassion in her eyes. “Indeed, ma’am, we had hoped you might consent to act as ambassador. We wouldn’t wish to intrude on the Entwhistles at this time, not while the questions that must still be in their minds have yet to be laid to rest.”

Lady Tannahay beamed. “You may leave it to me, child. I’ll ensure the facts as Mr. Adair and others have determined them are conveyed accurately to Harvey and Maddy.” She set down her teacup, and looked inquiringly at Millicent. “You will be attending the Summer Hunt Ball, won’t you?”

Millicent smiled brilliantly. “Indeed we will. And so will Marcus.”

Lady Tannahay’s eyes widened. “Oh, my!” After a moment, she added, in the tone of one anticipating some excellent entertainment, “How positively delightful.”

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