Free Death Is in the Air by Kate Kingsbury Page A

appreciation even more unsettling.
    She murmured her apologies while he pulled back her chair. “I’m terribly sorry for keeping you waiting, Major.”
    He eased the chair in as she sat down, then returned the length of the table to his own seat. “No need to apologize, Lady Elizabeth. I’ve been enjoying an excellent Scotch while I studied the contents of this room. You have some great antiques on these walls. Fascinating stuff.”
    She smiled. “Thank you. Some of them have been in the family for generations.”
    “Like the portraits upstairs. What about that whalebone over there? What’s the story behind that?”
    Thankful to have an opening subject to break the ice, she launched into the story of her great-great-uncle’s adventures aboard a sailboat in the Pacific islands.
    Violet interrupted a few minutes later to announce the menu; celery soup, roast beef, and Yorkshire pudding, followed by a sherry trifle. “I’ll be serving the first course in a moment or two,” she declared. “Meanwhile, can I offer you a glass of champagne?”
    Elizabeth widened her eyes in surprise. “That would be very nice, Violet.” Wondering how on earth her housekeeper had acquired champagne, she added, “You remember Major Monroe, Violet? I’m sure you remember my housekeeper, Major?”
    “We bumped into each other in the kitchen just now.” He exchanged a look with Violet that was purely conspiratorial, and she preened like a mating peacock.
    “The major was kind enough to bring us a bottle or two. That’s where the champagne came from.” A flushspread over her cheeks, and she patted her frizzy hair. “He brought whiskey as well.”
    Put out by the housekeeper’s defiance of her wishes, Elizabeth said tartly, “You may serve the champagne, Violet.”
    Violet’s expression was unrepentant. “I’ll send Martin in,” she said and scuttled back to the kitchen.
    “I hope I didn’t break any of your customs by taking the bottles to the kitchen.”
    Elizabeth stared down the table at him. Separated by three ornate silver candelabra, two huge bowls of white daisies, and a cornucopia filled with ripe apples from the orchard, she felt less intimidated by him than during their earlier encounters. Even so, she felt the impact of his gaze as she murmured, “Not at all, Major. I’m sure Violet was most appreciative.”
    He chuckled. “She gave me a hug. Nice lady. Reminds me of an aunt of mine back home.”
    Elizabeth felt a pang of envy and quickly suppressed it. She had no desire to hug the major. If Violet wanted to make a fool of herself that was her affair. “Violet has been with the family a very long time. I value her as a friend and as a surrogate member of my family. She was a great source of comfort to me after the death of my parents.”
    Violet chose that moment to return with the champagne. She fluttered around Earl as if he were a long-lost son, Elizabeth noticed, with a faint pang of resentment. It was obvious the major had won over Violet with his undeniable charm. All the more reason for her to remain on guard as far as her own attitude toward the handsome American. It wouldn’t do for everyone to fall under his spell.
    She was beginning to understand now the attraction these men held in the village. Much more debonair and infinitely more glamourous than their British stiff-upper-lip counterparts, they added the spice of adventure to a very bleak environment for the women of Sitting Marsh.Forced to manage without their menfolk, struggling to feed and clothe their families on the meager rations allowed them, faced with uncertain futures at best, no wonder they welcomed such exciting and alluring newcomers with open arms.
    They would all do well to heed Violet’s warnings. She had spoken the truth when she’d said that many hearts were broken in wartime. The understandable urge to live for the moment was a powerful aphrodisiac. Under such circumstances, even the most level-headed person could well stray