Granddad wagged a finger at me. “That’s another good reason for you to stay out of this. If someone in the house is a murderer and discovers you doing your own little investigation, then you might be next.”

“Oh, no, surely not,” I said, but I did see his point. Someone who has killed once has nothing to lose by killing again.

“So my advice to you would be not to go back.”

“But the queen sent me there, and the dowager duchess wants me there. I can hardly do a bunk. And Darcy is driving me back tonight.”

Granddad gave one of his knowing grins. “Oh, so he’s at the house too, is he? You failed to mention that so far.”

I blushed.

“Well, that ain’t so bad if he’s there to keep an eye on you. But leave the detecting to the police, my love. They may look slow and bumbling, but in my experience they get it right in the end.”

I sighed. “All right. But tell me, in your experience what would give away a murderer? Would there be any small signs that he was guilty?”

He shook his head. “I’ve known murderers cool as a cucumber. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelid. Of course, some of ’em are so cocky that they offer to help the police with the investigation. It’s sheer vanity, of course. They’re having a good chuckle that the police are getting it wrong. In my experience, that’s what separates criminal types from the rest of us—an exaggerated idea of their cleverness and a feeling that the world revolves around them and everyone else is put there for their benefit.”

I thought then shook my head. “There’s nobody I can think of at Kingsdowne who behaves like that.”

“I said criminal types,” Granddad said. “That wouldn’t include someone who killed out of desperation. Someone who killed because it was the only way out may well be showing signs of stress.”

“The only one behaving in that way is Edwina, the duchess,” I said. “Oh, dear. I really don’t want it to be her.”

“You’re showing signs of cracking up yourself, my love,” he said. “You’ve got two nasty frown lines over your eyes. Not good for your beauty, you know!” He ruffled my hair. “Now, what say we have something to eat? I’ve got some nice, cold lamb and I can do some mashed potatoes and pickles. Her next door gave me some lovely pickled cabbage.”

“So she’s still ‘her next door’?” I asked.

“She’d like to get me to the altar, but I ain’t going,” he said. “There was only one lady in my life, and that was your grandma. I see no sense in marrying again.”

With that, he started peeling potatoes for lunch.

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

IN LONDON AND THEN BACK TO KINGSDOWNE