Filbury turned to Antonia. “I wonder, Lady Antonia, if you would care to join us—Wilson, Miss Boyne, and myself—for a round of tennis?”
From across the table, Worthington suggested, “Or perhaps a turn about the croquet course? Very ready to make up a team, what? It could be fun.”
Mrs. Parrish and Mrs. McGibbin bent disapproving looks on the younger folk, clearly deeming any notion of “fun” in a household in which someone had recently died to be in poor taste, but those involved didn’t seem to notice.
Sebastian, meanwhile, tightened his grip on his knife and clamped down on what he knew was an entirely uncalled for—and very unwise—reaction. In situations such as this, Antonia could take care of herself; she certainly wouldn’t thank him for stepping in and dismissing both importuning gentlemen for her.
He kept his gaze fixed on his plate, but from the corner of his eye, he saw her smile—a practiced social gesture, cool and distancing.
“Thank you for the invitations, gentlemen, but I fear neither activity calls to me at this moment. Perhaps another day.”
Filbury and Worthington were disappointed, but accepted their dismissals with good grace.
Farther up the table, Georgia Featherstonehaugh and Miss Savage had been chatting with Miss Bilhurst. Claire Savage turned to Melissa and Antonia. “We thought we’d go back to the folly and continue our sketches and paintings. You haven’t finished yours yet, have you?”
“No.” Antonia paused as if considering joining the group.
Sebastian reached for his wine glass. If she went sketching with the other younger ladies, surely she would be safe enough. Yet what if one or more of the men wandered up? One was a murderer, although why a murderer would focus on Antonia…who knew?
He would rather have the reassurance of having her with him.
Melissa agreed to join the excursion to the folly.
Sebastian was contemplating wasting his afternoon watching the ladies paint when, to his relief, Antonia said, “I’m not such an enthusiastic artist as all of you, and after the exertion of the morning, I believe I’ll spend a quiet afternoon about the house—perhaps in the library.”
The last words were said with a swift, sidelong glance at Sebastian—one he felt, but didn’t meet, being too busy noting the exchange of glances between Filbury and Wilson. Were they planning on following the ladies to the folly, or Antonia to the library?
Mr. McGibbin humphed. “Seems a pity to waste a clear day—we’re not likely to get many more. What about taking out some guns?” He paused, casting a glance up the table, but Cecilia, if anything looking even more drawn, was absorbed in a discussion with Mrs. Parrish and Mrs. McGibbin. McGibbin lowered his voice a trifle. “Ennis mentioned there was some decent grouse and woodcock to be had in the far reaches of the Home Wood.”
The suggestion found favor with most of the men. Hadley Featherstonehaugh declined, saying he would play escort to his wife and her friends at the folly.
When asked if he would join the shooting party, Sebastian simply declined. “But you might want to let Sir Humphrey know of your plans.”
The men exchanged glances, then Mr. Parrish pushed to his feet. “I’ll go. I’ll meet you in the gun room.”
Chairs scraped as, in groups, most of the company rose. The younger ladies gathered and bustled out, trailed by Hadley, with the other men straggling behind. At the end of the table, Mrs. McGibbin, Cecilia, and Mrs. Parrish still had their heads together.
Sebastian, who had risen with the others, pulled back Antonia’s chair. He murmured, “We’d better check in with Sir Humphrey and the inspector before deciding what to do.”
She rose with alacrity, and they walked out of the dining room.
In the front hall, she slowed. “Mr. Parrish will be with them…” On the words, they heard footsteps approaching from the corridor leading to the estate office. “Ah. Here he is.”
Parrish, looking slightly peevish, walked into the front hall. He saw them. “Dashed ridiculous, having to ask permission just to go out.”
“I take it no objections were raised?” Sebastian asked.
“No. They just said they wanted us back by evening—as if we’re children. Pah!” Parrish turned toward the corridor leading past the stairs. “At least they didn’t try to stop us.” He raised a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Sebastian and Antonia murmured goodbyes. They waited until they heard the gun room door open and the rumble of male voices cut off as the door closed again, then they exchanged a glance and walked on through the archway into the corridor beyond.