This was not a conversation she wanted to overhear, still less one she wanted to be caught overhearing. It would be impossible to claim one hadn’t heard a word, even if it were true. Haworth would assume she’d been eavesdropping, and for all she knew his conversational partner might believe she’d overheard his secret.

Not conversational partner. Victim. That was the word for someone subjected to extortion, wasn’t it? And that was what Haworth was doing, no two ways about it. She’d overheard blackmail, and she had to...

She had to what?

Well, for one thing she had to ensure she heard nothing else. This was bad enough without knowing which of her fellow guests harboured a shameful secret, let alone what it was. She’d have liked to get up and slip silently away, but she had all her bits and pieces on the desk, including the monogrammed gun and case. If she left it all there, Haworth might see it and realise she’d overheard, and if she tried to pack up she’d make a noise. In fact, she could do nothing. She would just have to sit and concentrate, hope they went out the other way, and deny hearing anything if she was discovered.

So she focussed fiercely on her work as the seconds dragged by and the murmurs from the next room went on, mentally damning Haworth’s culpable carelessness. Really, what sort of extortioner didn’t even choose a suitably private location?

At last the luncheon gong boomed. Pat stiffened in alarm, but it appeared that the next room had another exit, because the men didn’t come through. She sagged with relief in her chair, then carefully packed up her case, giving them plenty of time to mingle with the rest of the party.

She’d assumed she’d be the last for luncheon after that. In fact, Lady Anna didn’t appear at all and nor did the Countess or Miss Singh, leaving Pat and Fen the only two ladies present. The Earl made no excuses; he simply launched into a monologue about what they could expect from the shooting tomorrow, apparently forgetting that Fen might not find this the most scintillating topic of conversation.

Mr. Keynes joined in with some good observations, and Jack Bouvier-Lynes, though cheerfully admitting himself to be a city sort of fellow, asked enough questions to keep the conversation going. Jimmy was notably silent, contributing a few terse remarks when directly addressed by his father. Bill and Mr. Haworth were both content to listen, the last with a nasty little smirk on his lips, as though some unkind remark hovered on the tip of his tongue.