George’s shoulders slumped.

“ ’Course, in my experience,” Tiggle spoke carefully, “men can be persuaded into kissing and the like awful easy.”

George’s eyes widened. “Truly? Even if he’s . . . reluctant?”

The maid nodded once. “Even against their own will. Well, they can’t help it, can they, poor dears? It’s just the way they’re made.”

“I see.” George rose and impulsively hugged the other woman. “You have the most interesting knowledge, Tiggle. I can’t tell you how helpful this conversation has been.”

Tiggle looked alarmed. “Just so you’re careful, my lady.”

“Oh, I will be.” George sailed out of her bedroom.

She hurried down the mahogany staircase and entered the sunny morning room where breakfast was served. Violet was already drinking tea at the gilt table.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” George crossed to the sideboard and was pleased to see that Cook had made buttered kippers.

“George?”

“Yes, dear?” Kippers started the morning so nicely. A day could never be all bad if it had kippers in it.

“Where were you last night?”

“Last night? I was here, wasn’t I?” She sat down across from Violet and reached for her fork.

“I meant before you came in. At one o’clock in the morning, I might add.” Violet’s voice was a wee bit strident. “Where were you then?”

George sighed and lowered her fork. Poor kippers. “I was out on an errand.”

Violet eyed her sister in a way that reminded George of a long-ago governess. That lady had been well past her fiftieth decade. How did a girl hardly out of the schoolroom manage so severe an expression?

“An errand at midnight?” Violet asked. “What could you possibly have been doing?”

“I was consulting Mr. Pye, if you must know, dear. About the sheep poisoning.”

“Mr. Pye?” Violet squawked. “Mr. Pye is the one poisoning the sheep! What do you need to consult him about?”

George stared, taken aback at her sister’s vehemence. “Well, we interviewed one of the farmers yesterday, and he told us that hemlock was the poison being used. And we were going to inquire of another farmer, but there was an incident on the road.”

“An incident.”

George winced. “We had a bit of trouble with some men attacking Mr. Pye.”

“Attacking Mr. Pye?” Violet pounced on the words. “While you were with him? You might have been hurt.”

“Mr. Pye acquitted himself very well, and I’d brought the pistols Aunt Clara left me.”

“Oh, George,” Violet sighed. “Can’t you see the trouble he’s causing you? You must turn him over to Lord Granville so he can be properly punished. I heard how you sent Lord Granville away the other day when he came for Mr. Pye. You’re just being contrary; you know you are.”

“But I don’t believe he is the poisoner. I thought you understood that.”

It was Violet’s turn to stare. “What do you mean?”