stuffed-olive suit. It was messing with my head.
So I imagined myself out of my suit and into Louisa’s dark blood satin. I imagined my lipstick back on and four-inch heels on my feet, and instantly I began to feel better. Things improved even more when I tasted the Maiden’s Prayer that Robert brought me. One sip and I knew the drink hadn’t been named for its innocence. More likely because supplication would be the only way of saving oneself after two or three of these little babies.
My envelope was still unopened in my hand, so I decided to delve inside and see what the rest of the weekend might be about. When I leafed through the sheets of paper I had to stop myself from groaning. Izzi, in her mad-doggish fever about her project, had timetabled the weekend to within an inch of its life. How was I going to convince Nicholas how low-maintenance and laid-back I was if we didn’t get any down time to mingle?
Along with a lengthy itinerary of activities—both indoor and outdoor—designed to promote clue-solving, was a full character profile of Constance, a brief summary of the other house party guests and some personal objectives for the first part of the evening. I had one thing I needed to keep secret and another thing I needed to find out: why Harry, my big brother, had become so overprotective of me in the last few weeks.
I let out a sharp little laugh at that bit. Talk about life imitating art…or was it the other way ’round?
Adam had just plonked himself down beside me, in the space I’d mentally reserved for Nicholas, and he leaned over to try and read my sheet over my shoulder. ‘What’s so funny?’
I quickly rolled my papers up so he couldn’t see anything. ‘No peeking!’ I told him, looking over the top of my little round specs.
‘With those glasses on you’re actually quite cute when you’re being bossy.’ Adam didn’t sound chastised at all. ‘I might just let you order me around a bit more when we get home—if you promise to keep them.’
See? There was no winning with Adam. He was, and always will be, completely untrainable.
Since my character notes were still rolled up in my hand, I swatted him on the nose with them. ‘You’re not taking this seriously,’ I said. My gesture had the desired effect and he backed away, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘You can’t talk like that to me. It didn’t sound a bit like how a brother would talk to his sister.’
Adam came as close to frowning as I’d ever seen him. ‘Suppose I don’t want to be your brother?’
I sighed and fixed my eyes on Nicholas and Louisa over by the fireplace, toasting their pretend engagement with champagne cocktails. ‘Tough. We’ve got to make what fate’s given us work to our advantage…remember?’
Adam’s gaze followed mine and then he sank heavily back into the sofa cushions. ‘What idiot told you that?’
I grinned at him. Strangely enough, he didn’t grin back instantly, as he normally did. But I’m pretty persistent. I just kept going until one corner of his mouth tilted a tiny fraction.
‘So…brother of mine…I’m supposed to be finding out why you’ve gone all prison warder on me in recent weeks. Care to spill the beans?’
Adam shook his head and waved his own big white envelope at me. ‘Can’t tell you. It’s supposed to be a secret.’
‘Adam Conrad! You’ve never kept a secret from me in your life!’
‘But I’m Harry, remember?’ He rubbed his nose again and I started to regret whacking him there. An awkward Adam was twice as infuriating as the regular one. He planted his feet firmly on the Persian rug and stood up. ‘And, actually, Adam does know how to keep a secret—even from you.’
I shook my head and let out a low, disbelieving chuckle. ‘No, he doesn’t!’
His expression clouded over. ‘If you knew about it, it wouldn’t be a secret any more, would it?’
Before I could quiz him further, to find out whether he was actually pulling my leg or—rather alarmingly—telling the truth, he glanced across the room to where Jos was standing with Robert. By the look of Robert’s eyebrows he wasn’t too enamoured with his partner in crime.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ Adam said loftily, ‘I have to go and weasel some family secrets out of Ruby Coggins the parlour maid.’
CHAPTER SIX
Wishin’ and Hopin’
Coreen’s Confessions
No. 6—You know some people say they can’t see the wood for the trees? Sometimes I can’t even find the flipping forest.
I ENDED up being seated between Julian and Marcus at dinner. Nicholas was far, far away at the end of the ridiculously long table, deep in conversation with an enraptured Louisa. After the first two courses I still knew absolutely nothing about Julian, and was more familiar than I could ever wish to be with Marcus’s rugby injuries. I didn’t even have Adam to joke with, because he was being monopolised by Jos further down the table.
I toyed with the last of my lamb. I wasn’t actually hungry, but pushing it around my plate helped distract me from a lengthy and rather too-graphic account of Marcus’s latest shoulder surgery. When I did look up briefly I caught the eye of the party organiser who was playing Lord Southerby. He glanced at Marcus, then gave me a sympathetic smile.
Dinner was so dull I was about to jump up on the polished walnut table and do the Lambeth Walk, just to entertain myself. Thankfully, that rash plan was scuppered before I could make a fool of myself, because the lights suddenly went out and, with no big-city light pollution to provide a warm glow at the windows, the whole room was plunged into utter darkness.
One of the girls screamed. Someone—I could tell it was Izzi—chuckled with barely restrained glee, and the great rubgy-playing oaf next to me started making childish ‘spooky’ noises.
I ignored all of that, too busy working on rash plan number two. I was trying to calculate if, under the cover of darkness, I had enough time to sprint ’round to where Nicholas was sitting, plant a smacker on him, and then make it back to my place before the lights came back on again. Unfortunately, just as I scraped my chair back and hitched up my skirts, the inevitable happened, and we all sat there, blinking at each other and looking around.
And then we saw it. Him.
Lord Southerby, face down in his lamb cutlets, with a dagger sticking out of his back.
We all gasped together, as if we’d shared the same intake of breath. Well, everyone except Louisa, that is. Now I knew who the screamer of the bunch was. I turned to give her a scornful look and found her clutching on to Nicholas, so close she was almost sitting on his lap. Before I looked away in disgust, unable to watch my dream man being all gentlemanly and protective, stoking her back with the flat of his long-fingered hand, I saw a flicker of smug satisfaction pass across her features, just before she burrowed her face in his shoulder and he put his arm round her.
Thinking murderous thoughts, I focused once again on the supposedly deceased Lord Southerby. The drama of the occasion
