Free Murder Most Malicious by Alyssa Maxwell Page A

the lowliest servant in the household, Dora took her meals in the kitchen with the hall boy rather than here in the servants’ hall. With another groan the girl scraped back her chair and pushed to her feet. Like a child being sent to her room, she dragged herself away.
    Rather odd behavior for a girl who had found a severed finger in her Christmas box only a few hours ago, in her case accompanied by a gold watch chain. In her mind, Eva lined up each recipient of Lord Allerton’s appendages: herself, Dora, Mr. Phelps, Josh the hall boy, and Rupert Garth and Myron Henderson from the village. Many others had received boxes today, of course, but only these six contained the ghastly surprises.
    Each had little in common with the others. True, the first four all worked here at the Hall, but while Josh and Dora worked exclusively below stairs, Eva, as a lady’s maid, and Mr. Phelps, as Lord Wroxly’s valet, enjoyed a much higher status among the servants. The two men from the village each owned a business, the tailor shop and haberdashery, respectively.
    There must be some connecting factor among them, but what?
    â€œI don’t see what you’re all worried about.” Nick Hensley leaned back in his chair with a somber expression. “If anyone should be suspect, it’s me. I’m the one who deals with—dealt with—” He shook his head, the corners of his mouth pulling taut. He began again. “I am Lord Allerton’s valet. If they wish to blame one of the servants, they’ll likely blame me, won’t they?”
    For the briefest moment a horrible thought chilled Eva’s heart. As Lord Allerton’s valet, Nick certainly had access to the marquess’s person. Could he have had some reason to want his employer out of the way?
    Nodding heads around the table shocked her out of her own thoughts and prompted Eva to speak up. “No, Nick, you mustn’t think that. And neither must any of you. We must stick together. Support each other. Nick is no more guilty than any of you.”
    He met her gaze with a gleam, and she realized she had called him Nick, not once but twice—not Mr. Hensley as she had insisted on doing only that morning.
    The significance of that gleam made her feel as if they were the only two people in the room. It warmed her even as it left her disconcerted and fumbling for an appropriate response. It made her glad she had used his first name, even as she longed for the comfortable formality of his surname again.
    And then, remembering they were not the only inhabitants of the room, she blinked and looked away, but too late. The others had seen and would speculate. Let them, Eva decided, even as she resolved not to give them further cause to gossip. A strained silence settled over the room, all the more nerve-racking for the clunking and clattering coming from Dora in the scullery.
    Finally, Douglas broke the silence. “It’s not like we’ve given the toffs any reason to suspect us. They should look to themselves.”
    Mr. Giles reared his head. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
    â€œI mean . . .” Douglas swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply. “Things weren’t exactly all roses last night between Lord Allerton and a certain member of the Renshaw family.”
    Mr. Giles slapped his hands on the tabletop. “I will not suffer this staff to spread gossip or speak ill of our employers. Nor will I countenance footmen eavesdropping on private matters when they should be concentrating on their work. Whatever you overheard last night, Douglas, you are to put out of your mind this instant. Is that clear?”
    Douglas gave a petulant nod. At the same time, a wash of scarlet stained Vernon’s neck, and he dropped his gaze.
    Mr. Giles was not satisfied. “Is that clear?” he repeated with the full boom of his baritone.
    Connie flinched, and even Mrs. Ellison pressed a hand to her breastbone.