Chapter 17
Seventeen
It was disappointing when a murder-mystery dinner couldn’t even deliver a waiter dropping something suspicious into someone’s soup.
Harriet sat at a very long banquet table and assessed the situation.
She couldn’t fault the scripts they’d been given on the way in even though TD Piaget obviously hadn’t been manning the pen.
The instructions had been clear, the stage set surprisingly well, and the food every bit as terrible as Sam had feared it would be.
At least she had found herself sitting quite safely next to Francine Collins.
She looked down the table at Sam who was pinned on both sides by pairs of those gorgeous women who wanted to have him to themselves, and she suspected that he wasn’t finding the experience nearly as uneventful as she was.
She looked to her left to find Francine watching the situation with the same level of pity she herself was feeling.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone,” Harriet mused.
Francine smiled. “I’m sure someone received a hefty bribe to have him there, so don’t blame yourself. I would say you’ll benefit from the comparison, but I suspect you’re doing very well all on your own.”
“Oh, we’re just friends,” Harriet said quickly.
Francine smiled. “Of course, darling. Though if that ever changes, I don’t think he’ll disappoint. Perhaps when his brother returns, he can offer an opinion on the matter as well.”
Harriet nodded, not because she thought Theo would have any opinion on her friendly relationship with his brother, but because Francine was obviously more worried about Theo’s absence than she wanted to admit.
She could also tell that Sam was suffering from the same concern.
He continued to send her alarmed looks when he dared take his attention of the women flanking him, something that made her smile and earned her brief smiles in return.
It was when he thought no one was watching him, though, that his mask dropped and she could plainly see that he wasn’t nearly as nonchalant about things as he’d claimed to be.
Just what sort of family business was Theophilus de Piaget on that he couldn’t at least phone in an excuse for his ever-lengthening absence?
She checked her watch and found that it was only half past seven though it felt like midnight. She’d had a decent night’s sleep using Samuel de Piaget as a pillow, but—
The lights went out suddenly and there was a shriek.
She shrieked herself only moments later when her hand was taken and she was pulled up out of her chair.
Fortunately for the glass of red wine she hadn’t drunk but had managed to snatch up in preparation for tossing it on the ruffian, the lights went on and she realized the man holding onto her was just Sam.
The mayhem continued, though, which probably had something to do with the fact that someone had indeed fallen into his soup with a knife sticking out of his back.
“Fake,” Sam whispered in her ear. “I know him from Stratford. He wouldn’t be caught dead drowned in consumé of that inferior quality.”
Harriet admit to admit he had a point about the soup.
“You two nip out whilst you can,” Francine said, pushing herself to her feet and removing Harriet’s glass from her unsteady hand. “Go have a decent supper. I’ll hold down the fort here.”
“But the murderer,” Harriet protested. “Don’t we all need to be here in case someone we know turns out to be the villain?”
Francine only lifted an eyebrow and smiled pleasantly. “I’m sure he or she will be discovered in time.”
“That answers that,” Sam said briskly. “Miss Collins, a pleasure.”
And that was apparently that. Harriet didn’t argue with Sam’s making a hasty exit through the closest doorway, mostly because it allowed her to get out of the sights of those four women who had apparently just realized that Sam was no longer in their midst. She ran with him all the way outside, then leaned back against the wall of the inn to try to catch her breath. He laughed a little.
“Well done, my lady,” he said. He scanned their surroundings, then nodded across the street. “We might manage something to eat if we can get ourselves to that non-haunted pub.”
“The jury’s still out for me on that place,” she said with a shiver, “though Zachary seemed to have thoughts on it he didn’t find time to share. Have we got time to run to my parents and let me grab my backpack first?”
“Of course.” He took off his coat and put it around her. “Chilly out tonight.”
“I like the tweed,” she said, pulling Theo’s sport coat more closely around herself.
“No stains from his quill and ink, as you can clearly see. I can’t guarantee that he hasn’t dribbled his porridge down the front of it, but that’s his problem, not mine.” He held out his hand. “Shall we?”
She took his hand, then tried not to be too obvious about watching him watch their surroundings as they walked through the village.
It occurred to her at that moment that he wasn’t nearly as distracted as she’d suspected him to be before.
Well, maybe he had been in London, but perhaps worry over his brother had gotten the better of him.
At the moment, he wasn’t distracted at all.
“Are we safe?” she murmured.
“Cousin and adjacent terrifying relative in place,” he replied under his breath.
She looked up at him quickly. “Are you nervous?”
“Me? Never. Let’s hurry, though. An edible supper awaits.”
She walked with him quickly toward her parents’ cottage and tried to identify any unusual things along their way, also without being obvious about it. She finally gave up and looked at him.
“You’re sure?”
“Oliver is behind us, Jackson ahead and off to the right.”
“I didn’t think you paid that much attention to your surroundings,” she admitted. “You seem to trip a lot.”
“High heels and beautiful fairies,” he said solemnly. “’Tis enough to leave a man losing his footing more often than not.”
She wanted to tell him he was ridiculous, but she imagined that would be more believable if she could stop blushing when he said those sorts of things. She was certain he didn’t really mean them, but maybe she could enjoy them while they were there to be enjoyed.
What she realized with equal swiftness was that she was standing just outside her parents’ garden gate and the lights were off inside. She didn’t want to speculate on what that might mean, so she didn’t.
“Maybe we should come back,” she said carefully.
He frowned. “’Tis rather early, aye? Let’s go around the back and see what the garden reveals. We’ll leave them undisturbed if they’ve simply gone to bed early to read.”
“Oh, yes, please let’s do that,” she agreed with feeling.
He smiled, then went first through the gate and kept her hand in his as he walked around the side of the house. She shivered in spite of herself, but that was surely due to a bit of late spring chill, not anything more sinister.
She stopped with Sam at the edge of the garden and looked at the back of the house.
There was a light on downstairs in what might have been the kitchen, but everything was dark upstairs.
Sam frowned again, then nodded back the way they’d come.
She walked with him, then literally walked into him after they’d rounded the corner of the house and he’d put himself in front of her.
She looked around his shoulder and saw no one more nefarious than Oliver the antique dealer, looking intimidating.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” Sam asked.
“Of course, Samuel. I’ll keep her safe.”
Harriet watched Sam go pick the lock to the front door, then let himself inside. She didn’t immediately hear the thrashings of thugs rushing to get out of his way, which she supposed boded well. She looked at Oliver.
“Here we are again.”
“And so we are, Miss Brewster.”
“Harriet.”
“Oliver.”
She smiled. “Thank you for the escort, though things seem pretty safe here, don’t they? Well, outside of Jackson with his sword.”
“I daresay they are,” Oliver agreed. “But it’s good to be certain, don’t you think?”
What she thought was that her parents’ dive into cosplay was starting to look very tame in comparison to her current situation.
There she was, innocently loitering in an English cottage garden, being babysat by an intimidating guy pretending to be her security detail while a different guy with terrifying sword skills was no doubt hiding in the shadows, biding his time as he waited for the chance to deal out a little more payback to an entirely different man who’d asked her to go on a date after all the craziness he was involved in was seen to.
It was no wonder the day had felt interminable.
“Clear?”
She realized Oliver was talking to Sam who had come out of the cottage. She watched them share a look she wasn’t sure she cared for, but her imagination was already off to the races. Sam shook Oliver’s hand.
“My thanks for the escort.”
“Let’s exchange numbers,” Oliver said easily. “Text me when you’re ready to return to the inn. I’ll be in the area.”
Harriet watched them do just that, then jumped a little when Oliver simply melted into the shadows. She looked at Sam who sighed and took her hand.
“Typical,” he said.
She had to agree with that, though she imagined Sam didn’t expect any sort of response. She walked into the cottage with him to find every light suddenly on in the place.
“You didn’t find them?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. They’ve likely just gone out to supper.”
That did seem reasonable which left her feeling a little silly about all her unrestrained speculations.
“We might catch up with them at the pub,” Sam offered.
“If that wouldn’t be unpleasant,” she said carefully.
“It would be a pleasure,” he said, sounding as though he meant it. “Why don’t you fetch your gear and we’ll be on our way.”
“Give me five minutes to change.”
“If you must,” he said with a light sigh. “I quite like the dress, but it is a bit chilly out.”