Death on the Sapphire: A Lady Frances Ffolkes Mystery (30 page)

“Mr. Wheaton—may we discuss my sister?” So Charles wasn’t just teasing anymore. He was concerned about Hal’s intentions. Or maybe his researches had paid off and he really wanted to find out if Hal knew she was brandishing firearms at members of His Majesty’s Secret Service. Or partnering with Special Branch.

Or all of the above.

Hal took back the card and patted her hand. “I’ll go see him. Stay here and have some dessert. There’s no need for him to know you’re here at this moment.”

“I’m coming with you,” she said crisply. “This is really quite ridiculous of him. He’s becoming more like our father every day, and it’s time I had strong words with him.” She had red spots on her cheeks.

“Franny, as your suitor, and for that matter, as your solicitor, I suggest you let me handle this.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous, too. You two men will probably do something stupid like get into a duel over me.”

“Hardly. We’ll discuss this like rational men. And dueling went out of fashion in your grandfather’s day. It’s the twentieth century.”

“I don’t need a reminder of what century this is.” It was going to be
her
century. “Now if I know my brother, he’s pacing back and forth, and if we don’t see him soon, he’ll wear a hole in your carpet.”

And without further comment, she stood and began walking toward the study so briskly that Hal had to scramble to catch up.