Free Death at the Theatre: Miss Hart and Miss Hunter Investigate: Book 2 by Celina Grace Page A

on the floor. “How wonderful. Put the flowers over there, John, thank you. You may go.”
    A man’s figure loomed in the doorway after John had left and a moment later was in the room. He was tall and portly, much older than I had imagined, fifty if he was a day. His grey hair matched his bushy grey moustache and he wore full evening dress. I saw his gaze flick around the room in astonishment before coming to rest on Caroline, which was when he smiled.
    “My dear,” he said, coming further forward and taking off his hat. “You were no doubt as superb as usual tonight. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here to watch you – a late sitting in the House, you know.”
    “That’s perfectly all right, darling.” Caroline got up, smiling. The rest of us scrambled to our feet too. The room felt very crowded, and I wasn’t surprised when Caroline said to the air in general, “My fiancé, Sir Nicolas Holmes, Member of Parliament. You really must excuse us.” She didn’t bother to introduce the rest of us, and it was clear we were expected to go. Tommy and Aldous had a wintry smile bestowed upon them by Sir Nicolas, but Verity and I were completely ignored. As we filed out, just about tugging our forelocks in an attempt to convey respect, I was reminded irresistibly of Lord Cartwright. Was there a factory somewhere in England turning out these old, fat, moustached aristocrats?
    The door to Caroline’s room shut firmly behind us. Aldous muttered something to us – I suppose it could have been ‘goodbye’ – and sloped off. Tommy put his arm around Verity and gave her a squeeze.
    “Well, that was the big man himself. Bit of a cold fish, eh?”
    Verity rolled her eyes. “He was exactly as I pictured him.”
    “What does Caroline see in him?” I asked, honestly curious as to why someone with so much talent, vivacity and beauty would want to marry someone so devoid of all those qualities.
    Tommy and Verity laughed out loud. “What, apart from the fact he owns half of Northamptonshire?” said Tommy.
    “And he can trace his family name back to the Domesday Book?” said Verity.
    “All right, all right,” I said, half laughing, half annoyed. “But money and breeding isn’t everything.”
    Verity grew serious. “Money is everything – to some people.”
    Tommy glanced at his watch. “Now, can I take you lovely ladies out for dinner somewhere? Or do you have to get back?”
    Verity grinned with glee. “We’re free for the whole evening. Well, as long as we’re back at eleven o’clock.”
    “Good God, Verity, that gives me half an hour to feed you, if that’s the case. You still have to catch the train home.”
    I drooped a little. I would have so loved to have gone out to dinner with Tommy and Verity, my two favourite people in the world.
    Tommy must have noticed my dejection. He gave me a squeeze too. “Cheer up, Joan. I’m sure we can manage pie and mash somewhere.” He took another glance at his watch. “Lord, only if we hurry though. Come on, there’s a place just around the corner.”
    Verity and I didn’t need telling twice. We bundled ourselves into our coats and hats and hurried after Tommy as he led the way out of the theatre.
     
    The pie and mash shop was hot and crowded and noisy. Tommy went off to battle his way to the counter to order our food, and Verity and I tried to find a table to sit at. As we struggled through the heaving mass of bodies in the shop, there was a call and an arm waving to us from a table at the back. It was Gwen Deeds, the wardrobe mistress from the theatre, perched up on one of the benches with a steaming plate of food in front of her.
    “Verity! Over here. Come on, quick, while these seats are free.”
    Verity shouted over to Tommy to tell him where we were going and then we forged a path as best we could through to Gwen.
    “Phew,” Verity gasped, finally making it to a seat. “This place is a mad house.”
    “I know,” Gwen said cheerfully. She made a space for