They smiled and nodded. “Then we must be related. How delightful. How I wish that you had arrived at a happier moment.” Belinda had undergone the usual ordeal by fire of the aristocracy. Those time-honored questions. Who are your family? Do we know them? Are we related to them? In other words, is she one of us and does she belong here? Now that a relationship had been proven, she was accepted.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear the news about your son,” Belinda said.

“Belinda was a friend of Cedric,” I said.

Belinda blushed but said nothing.

“My son, friends with a young woman? How extraordinary,” Edwina said. “I wish he’d brought you down here, my dear. Rather than those dubious young men.”

“Belinda’s a fashion designer,” I explained. “She has worked with Chanel.”

“Ah, so that explains it.” Edwina nodded. “Cedric mentioned he had found a brilliant costume designer for his new play. So that was you, was it?”

“I’m not sure which play he was talking about,” Belinda said modestly, eyes focused on the pile of sandwiches. “He had irons in so many fires, didn’t he?”

“He did. And none of them in the right fires, if you want my opinion,” Edwina said. “But you are more than welcome here, and I’m sure Cedric’s death has shocked you as much as the rest of us.”

“Devastated,” Belinda said. “I feel utterly hollow.” She looked around. “That poor boy, suddenly finding himself Duke of Eynsford. Where is he?”

“My grandson needed some time to be alone to digest this news,” Edwina said. “I can’t say that I blame him. He’ll be down when the inspector gets here.” She stopped and stared out of the window. “Ah, here comes what looks like a police motorcar now. They made good time from Sevenoaks.”

A black motorcar came up the driveway, stopping outside the front door. A large man with a red face and an impressive paunch extricated himself from the backseat and stood staring up at the front of the house as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A younger, plainclothes officer exited from the other side of the car while two bobbies in uniform emerged from the front seats. The large man must have said something to the others because they all grinned. I noticed that the rain had slowed to a drizzle

At this point Mr. Huxstep, with his impeccable timing, appeared at the front door with a large umbrella.

“Are you the duke?” a rather loud voice demanded, as the big man strode up the front steps and in through the door while Huxstep tried to keep up with him.

“No sir, I am His Grace’s butler,” Huxstep replied with great dignity. “The dowager duchess is expecting you. Whom shall I say is calling?”