Jack looked away. “Okay, maybe. Anything else you want, besides me making a fool of myself?”
“You made friends with the daughter, how about trying with the mother?” Sara said. “Find out what she knows.”
“Mrs. Aiken? Are you crazy? I’d rather wrestle a gator.”
“Jack, my dear, you can charm anyone.” She turned to Kate. “I couldn’t persuade you to rummage in the attics, could I? We have Bella’s full permission to snoop. You can see if there’s anything in there about what happened.”
Kate looked as though Sara had offered her the Key to Heaven. All she could do was nod.
As Sara got off the bed, Jack said, “And what ultrasecret thing are you planning to do? Or are we not supposed to know?”
“I’m taking my camera and a couple of lenses out for a walk. I figure that after all these people arrive, I won’t get ten minutes alone. I’ll see you for dinner with Bella. It’s at seven.” She left the room.
For a few minutes, Kate and Jack sat on the bed facing each other but eyes not meeting.
She knew what he was thinking about. “You’ll do fine,” she said softly.
Jack didn’t want to think about, much less discuss singing for a professional of Byon Lizmere’s caliber. It was his highest dream and scariest nightmare in one.
Sara wasn’t the only one who could manipulate. He wanted to direct Kate’s thoughts in another direction. “Wonder what the attic is like? I bet when Bella bought this place they cleaned it out. But isn’t Bella a relative of the family who built this place? She might have kept a few mementos.”
Kate tightened her lips. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Did Sara say when these people are arriving?”
“If Mrs. Aiken is starting to cook for them, it’s soon.”
“So if I’m going to talk to her—and that seems to be my assignment—maybe I should go now.”
“And you’re sending me off to the attic.” Kate was trying to sound put-upon, but there was so much excitement in her voice that Jack laughed.
“Go! Be Miss Indiana Jones and seek and find.”
Kate leaped off the bed and was instantly at the door. “With Harrison Ford I’d be a Mrs.,” she called to him as she ran down the corridor. She didn’t seem to be aware that she was barefoot.
Smiling, Jack got off the bed, picked up Kate’s shoes and put them outside the door where she could find them. She loved all things historical so much that he wondered if she’d miss them.
As he left, he didn’t bother going back through the labyrinth Kate had led him through but went toward the main part of the house. It was silent, the lush carpets cushioning all sound. The walls were covered in pale gold silk brocade, and giant oil portraits were everywhere. The halls were wide enough that furniture was on both sides. Little half-round tables, small sofas, museum-quality chairs lined the way. As a builder, Jack knew the price of it all—and it had cost Sara a lot of money.
When he saw an abnormally narrow door, he opened it. As he’d guessed, it concealed a servants’ staircase, where they’d probably hauled up buckets of hot water. He went down and wasn’t surprised to enter the kitchen.
Mrs. Aiken was there with her pans and bowls. Jack took a breath, put on his most pleasant face and stepped forward. He smiled at the woman, but she glared back. “I was wondering where Puck is,” he said.
“She’s in that house Nicky gave her.”
Jack blinked at the woman’s tone. If her words were put in a text, there would be a skeleton emoji by “that house” and a smiley face with hearts by the word “Nicky.”
Sara Medlar, you owe me, he thought, and cleared his throat. “Nicky liked Puck?”
“Young Master Nicky liked everyone. He was kind and generous to all. He would have made a wonderful earl. But someone killed him.”
At that pronouncement, Jack wanted to run to get Sara and Kate and fly home. Not another murder! “I hadn’t heard that,” Jack said. “You think he was murdered?”
“Of course. That’s what his father said at the funeral. ‘Which one of you bastards killed my son?’”
“And the bastards were...?”
“Them. The ones I’m supposed to cook for. They want to re-create that weekend when they killed dear Nicky. What I don’t understand is why?”