A Death in the Loch Read Online Free PDF Page A

inroads on the liquid refreshments. Accordingly I ignored the knock. Whoever it was persisted. The knocks became louder.
    ‘I fear you have the wrong room, sir,’ I said. I doubted a lady would be so driven by curiosity to get into a locked bedchamber.
    ‘Open up, Euphemia.’
    The door muffled the voice.
    ‘Go away,’ I said tersely.
    ‘Come on, Miss Martins,’ said the voice loudly.
    I flew across the room and unbolted the door. No one in this house should know my real name.
    Lord Milford, sometimes known as Fitzroy, lounged in the doorway.
    ‘You,’ I said as coldly as I could. Milford/Fitzroy was a gentleman in the pay of His Majesty’s Government and prone to dealing with delicate political situations. He both knew my real name and my grandfather, the Earl. He should also as a professional have known better than to shout my real name in public. I said as much.
    Fitzroy grinned. ‘I’m not drunk, Euphemia. I needed to get your attention.’
    ‘You have it for a very short space of time.’
    ‘Don’t be like that, Euphemia. Go and put your party dress on. I’m bringing you downstairs.’
    ‘Lord Stapleford has not invited me.’
    ‘Lord Stapleford can go stuff himself,’ said Fitzroy amiably. ‘You’ll be with me.’
    ‘Why on earth would I want to do that,’ I enquired tartly.
    ‘Because I need to ask you something. And don’t tell me you haven’t a dress. I had reports that the one you wore at the Muller estate will do very nicely.’
    Fitzroy widened his grin and raised one eyebrow at me. ‘I know you, Euphemia. You don’t like me enough to come down for me,’ he said, ‘but you’ll come because you might get to dance with your beloved Bertram –’ I interrupted to protest, but Fitzroy continued, ‘But mostly you’ll come because you’re bored stupid and I can offer you a little adventure.’
    Our eyes locked. I held his gaze for a good minute before I sighed. ‘Oh, all right.’
    ‘Good.’ Fitzroy made to enter my room. I placed my hand on his chest.
    ‘You can wait out there.’
    ‘Spoilsport,’ said Fitzroy, but he stayed outside rudely, if tunefully, whistling while I scrambled into my dress and brushed out my hair.
    I had never seen the ballroom opened up in all my time at Stapleford Hall. Large, airy, lined with mirrors, and edged with a minstrels’ gallery, it lay on the eastern-most edge of the south wing. Silk wallpaper the colour of champagne lined the walls and on tables all along one of the shorter sides there were servants tending to buckets of the real thing. Music played loudly for the colourful throng that merged before my eyes and I smelt the sweat of a hundred people who had been enjoying a good dance.
    As I entered the ballroom on Fitzroy’s arm we attracted no little attention. Fortunately guests were no longer being announced, but by pausing a moment at the threshold somehow Fitzroy managed to get quite a few sets of eyes turning our way. I knew my dress suited me and I also knew that with the exception of Bertram and Richenda no one else in the room would recognise me. Fitzroy appearing with a mysterious and attractive lady on his arm when no further carriages were due to arrive was as close to a public scandal as I had ever caused. I saw Bertram’s face in the crowd below, scowling fiercely.
    Fitzroy must have seen him too as he led me over and handed me on to Bertram as the musicians struck up an old-fashioned waltz. Fortunately my mother had ensured I could dance. Bertram’s mother had obviously not placed quite so much importance on the skill. Although I admit that with the strange feeling of Bertram’s hands on me I was not as graceful as my mother would have expected.
    ‘What the devil are you doing here,’ hissed Bertram in my ear.
    ‘You have not mastered the art of polite conversation with your dancing partner, have you?’ I teased. Bertram’s scowl deepened further, if that were possible, and his face began to turn red. I noticed with a