Jenkins heaved a sigh, and I took that to mean he was disappointed at my inability to speak in British understatement. What should I have said? That Dooney was taking a permanent nap?

“That’s not funny, Scarlett,” Piper snapped.

“No, it isn’t,” I said. Something in my tone must have gotten through to her.

“I want to see him,” she said. “Now.”

Jenkins shook his head but I nodded. I would feel the same if someone said that to me about Harry. We had to show her.

“Mr. Carlton, can you go out to the front to meet the . . . uh . . . people we’re expecting and escort them here?” Jenkins asked.

“Of course.” Carlton nodded. He took off, looking relieved to be putting distance between himself and the scene that was to come.

“I’m so sorry, Miss May, if you’ll follow me,” Jenkins said. He pushed the door open and led her into the room.

With a frown, Piper followed him. She stopped as soon as she saw Dooney on the floor. “Dooney!” She turned to look at us. “He must be drunk. He just fell asleep. Right?”

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, Piper, but Dooney has passed away,” I said. It sounded so weird coming out of my mouth.

“No, you’re mistaken,” she said. “We’re getting married in two days. He’s just unconscious or something.”

“No,” Mr. Jenkins said. “Miss Parker is right. We have an ambulance and the police coming, but I’m afraid the ambulance is just a formality. Mr. Portis is deceased.”

“No.” She shook her head, covered her mouth with her hand and then fainted, crumpling where she stood so fast that Jenkins barely had time to catch her before she hit the carpet. She would have been concussed if he hadn’t snatched her up at the last second.

Jenkins lowered her the rest of the way to the ground. We stared at each other. It was a safe bet that neither of us had been in this kind of situation before.

“What do we do?” I asked. I was hoping Jenkins was the sort of unflappable butler who had a plan. He wasn’t. He did not.

“I have no idea,” he cried. He took a handkerchief out of his inside breast pocket and mopped his forehead. “Do we shut her in here until the constable arrives?”

“We can’t shut her in here with the body of her fiancé,” I protested. “That’s just wrong.”

“Fine, you stay with her then,” he said.

“What?” I cried. “No! I don’t want to stay with her.”

“Someone has to,” he said. “I need to stand guard outside to make certain no one else comes in here.”

Well, he had me there. I admittedly wouldn’t be as effective as a guard. Dang it.

“All right, I’ll try and rouse her,” I said.