“Ah, Diana, the huntress,” Mr. Haworth said with his curling, nasty smile. Pat gave him a rapid once-over. She knew nothing about the drug habit, but anyone could see there was something wrong with the man. She put it down to a twist in the head, herself. Maurice Haworth liked to make other people unhappy, and that wasn’t a symptom of any drug she’d ever heard of.

“My name is Patricia, Mr. Haworth,” she said briskly. “How’s the weather looking for tomorrow, sir?”

“Windy,” the Earl returned. “I fear we must expect storms later in the week.”

“Oh, what a shame!” Pat exclaimed. “At the very start of the season. Rotten luck.”

“The consequences of our location. We’re as prone to bad weather as any Scottish house—more, perhaps. It’s not unknown for us to be cut off by flash floods.”

“Really?”

“There are two rivers coming down from the high ground to the north, you see, and when there has been a dry spell followed by torrential rain, the results tend to be spectacular. We plan for it, of course; we shan’t run out of supplies.”

“Thank goodness,” Pat said. “One wouldn’t want to be reduced to eating one’s fellow guests.”

The Earl gave a hearty laugh, but Maurice Haworth’s eyes lit up. “What an idea, Miss Merton. I wonder who we should cook first? You and my dear wife have too little meat on you for a satisfactory meal, I think, whereas Miss Carruth would be rather a rich feast under any circumstances. And the flavour of Miss Singh’s flesh—”

“What a very peculiar subject for a drawing room.” Pat spoke with all the ice at her command, and Haworth actually stopped in his tracks, probably reminded of his old nurse. She didn’t give him any time to recover, but turned to the Earl. “We must take advantage of the good weather as it lasts, then. May I ask what ground we’ll cover tomorrow?”

The Earl’s eyes had flickered to Haworth, a tiny fearful movement, but he made an effort at joviality as he replied. “We’ll go in the direction of Trinder Wood first. I think we can promise you some good coverts.”

“Oh, excellent,” Bill said at her shoulder. “I had some marvellous shooting there two years ago, I don’t know if you recall, sir?”

His cheerfulness sounded forced to Pat’s sisterly ear. He was probably angry, as well he might be, and she felt a little glow. Perhaps everyone else in this house was intimidated by the loathsome Haworth, but if the man chose to tangle with the united Mertons he’d find out his mistake.