Mistress of Merrivale by Shelley Munro

feet—and lifted her up. “Would you like some fresh milk and one of Cook’s raspberry tarts?”
    Irritation tightened Jocelyn’s chest, and she aimed an incredulous glower at Hannah. The woman had no business usurping her rightful place as hostess. The hint of malice in the other woman’s eyes stiffened Jocelyn’s spine. She curled her right hand around the arm of her chair, counseling herself to patience. Her marriage to Leo was a shock and she needed to make allowances.
    Hannah placed a tart on a plate for Cassie, and Peregrine caught Jocelyn’s frown.
    “How do you like Dartmoor?” he asked, directing the conversation with a flirtatious grin, probably in the hope of avoiding an unpleasant disagreement between the two women. “It must be a change from London.”
    How did he know she came from London? She hadn’t told anyone simply because she didn’t want to cause Leo embarrassment or open herself to nosy questions. “I haven’t been here long, but so far I love the countryside.” An evasive answer, but it seemed to satisfy him.
    “Dartmoor is a dangerous place.” Peregrine leaned over and placed a too familiar hand on her forearm. His blue eyes twinkled and, to her discomfort, Jocelyn detected a hint of lust.
    “In what way?” Jocelyn shifted and his hand dropped away. Personally she thought both Hannah and Peregrine needed a lesson in manners.
    “Did you hear about the murder of our maid? Her body was found in the maze here at Merrivale.” His blond brows rose, his eyes strangely intent. His lazy manner faded as he leaned closer to speak in an undertone. “Then of course, there was my sister’s murder. If I were you, I’d be watching my back.”
    A chill rippled through Jocelyn, stirring the hairs at the back of her neck. “Whatever do you mean?”
    Peregrine’s brows drew together. “I’d listen to the rumors because there is more than a little truth in them.”
    “Stop being so secretive.” Jocelyn drew in a rapid breath, attempting to claw back the anxiety his words set loose. There was something about his tone, the way his teasing nature had receded to expose a hint of his inner self. “Tell me what you mean.”
    Peregrine shrugged and insouciance settled on him again like a cozy woolen cloak. “I’m warning you to take care. All is not as it seems at Merrivale.”
    Confused about his meaning, she stood abruptly. “Can I get you a dish of tea or would you like something stronger?”
    “Do you have claret?”
    “Of course.” Having learned a thing or two while dealing with her sisters, she calmly reclaimed the reins from Hannah, bustling about to pour claret and prepare a plate of cakes for Peregrine. “Hannah, would you care for a slice of butter cake or perhaps a raspberry tart?”
    “Thank you.” Hannah smiled graciously, although her fingers tightened around the handle of the milk jug before replacing it on the table.
    An awkward silence fell. Jocelyn wanted to check on her mother and make certain Cassie was all right after her fright. But, aware of her responsibilities, she sat beside Peregrine again and introduced a neutral topic. “Tell me about the village. Is there a good dressmaker?”
    “We came to invite you to a party.” Hannah’s gaze swept Jocelyn’s serviceable brown and her top lip curled. “I doubt you’ll have time to order a new gown beforehand. The village dressmaker might aspire to London designs, but the results are hopelessly provincial.”
    “Hannah!” Even Peregrine blinked at her rudeness.
    “A party sounds lovely,” Jocelyn said, ignoring both comments. “I look forward to meeting Leo’s friends and neighbors. Will there be dancing?”
    Hannah shrugged. “Of course. Peregrine has the invitation.” She turned her back on Jocelyn and Peregrine to chat with Cassie. Another show of ill manners.
    A distant shriek severed the taut calm.
    Cassie dropped her milk and started wailing. Jocelyn jumped to her feet, but Hannah took over, soothing her