If she registered his impending arrival, she gave no sign. Instead, she pivoted toward her ball, lined up her shot, and swung back her mallet.
“I apologize,” he called.
Miss Pemberton’s mallet came flying backward toward his face. He caught it just before it knocked his teeth out, then stepped forward and handed it back.
She stared up at him. “What did you say?”
“I apologize,” he repeated. “You’re right. I should’ve asked you.Willyou help me prove my innocence?”
She frowned, blinked, blinked again. Her forehead cleared. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” He moved aside while she took her shot and then followed after her as she tracked her ball. “Have you any other suspects? I mean, besides my sister and my niece.”
She cast him a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “Everyone?”
“I meant, specifically. I was thinking about the reasons you gave—which, I admit, are as sound reasons as any—and my belief that they didn’t do it. And I was thinking…What if someone else did it for them?”
She arched a brow. “Hiring a killer is less evil than killing someone yourself?”
“Of course not.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I was thinking more like, what if a servant took matters into her own hands, without consulting Nancy or Rose? A servant who, perhaps, found herself frequently on the receiving end of Heatherbrook’s indiscriminate violence?”
Miss Pemberton leaned on her mallet. “Ginny?”
“Why not? She could be avenging her own injustices, as well as those of her mistresses.”
She stared at him. “You think a servant killing her master makes more sense than a subjugated wife doing so?”
“Be serious.” He glanced at his married guests. “All wives are subjugated to some degree.”
She harrumphed. “Exactly why I shall never become one.”
For some reason, this declaration fired his temper.
“Fortuitous,” he responded, “because nobody’s asking you. Do you or don’t you think the lady’s maid might be involved?”
A moment passed while she frowned and bit at her lower lip. “It’s possible,” she said at last. “But if Ginny did do it, it’s also possible she was acting on orders. Are you prepared for that possibility?”
He glared at her. “I don’t think—”
“Uncle Lioncroft,” Nancy called from across the grass. “Come on, it’s your turn!”
“I will be back,” he warned Miss Pemberton before jogging over to his ball and taking a swing.
Nancy tucked her mallet beneath her arm and clapped. “Good shot, Uncle Lioncroft.”
“I do better than your intended, anyway,” he teased, quirking an eyebrow toward Teasdale. “What happened to his mallet? Did he forget where he left it?”
She giggled. “I believe he’s striking his ball with his cane. Is there a rule against that?”
He leaned on his mallet. “There ought to be a rule against little girls marrying doddering fools four times their age.”
Nancy scowled at him. “I’m not a little girl.”
“But Teasdale is in fact a doddering fool?”
“Well, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Look at him.”
He glanced at Teasdale and gave an exaggerated shudder. “Then why did you pick him?”
