“As I explained, it is too costly. Under the circumstances that my brother left me in, I must count my pennies.”

“So you stay here and eat my pennies instead. How convenient. A few days is one thing. Several weeks is another. Now it sounds as if you intend to live here permanently.”

“Only until matters are settled.”

“Heaven give me patience.” Agnes turned to Chase for help, pleading with her gaze. “She met with a solicitor about challenging the will’s provisions. Don’t feign shock with me, Sister. Yes, I know about it and, yes, I am telling Chase so maybe he can talk sense into you.”

“I had hoped Nicholas had done that already,” Chase said.

“At her age, what does the threat of being cut out of his will matter?”

The two of them continued bickering. Chase suffered it for five minutes, then stood. “I am inclined to take my leave and return another day, so this meeting can start on a different topic. I asked to see you, Dolores, for a reason other than your living arrangements.”

“I thought it was a social call,” Agnes said, looking perplexed.

“Not exactly.”

They both looked at him, then at each other. “Please sit, Chase. We will keep our sisterly arguments to ourselves,” Agnes said.

“Then with your permission I will get to it. I have been conducting inquiries into Uncle Frederick’s death. I went down to Melton Park, and learned some things there. I would like to ask you some questions.”

“Her or me?” Agnes said.

“Both of you at first. Then only her.”

Dolores stiffened. “Bold of you.”

“You don’t even know what the questions are yet,” Agnes said.

Chase decided to ignore all asides and commentary. “Were either one of you at Melton Park the day that the duke died?”

Agnes looked aghast. Dolores’s color drained.

Dolores recovered first. “What kind of a question is that?”

“A very simple one. I can find out other ways, but it is easier to ask you.”

“Then have my simple answer. I. Was. Not.”

“Nor I,” Agnes added. “Did someone say we were there? Is someone impugning us and trying to say—”

“No one has impugned or accused or in any way named either of you. I had to ask this question in order to eliminate possibilities. Thank you for your honest answers.”

They both relaxed but their alarm had subdued them.

“My other questions are for you, Aunt Dolores. They are less simple. You may want to hear them privately.”

“I will go.” Agnes began rising.

“Don’t,” Dolores blurted. She reached out her hand. “Please don’t.”

Agnes looked at her sister, whose worry dragged at her face. She glanced at Chase, then sat again.

“Aunt Dolores, did you have an old, long-held resentment against your brother? A slight that had not been forgotten?”