Murder in the Paperback Parlor (9 page)

“Miss Jane?” The front desk clerk knocked lightly on the open door and Jane's fantasy popped like a bubble. “Mrs. Hubbard has finished preparing for the truffle workshop and she's waiting for you in the Daphne du Maurier Morning Room.

“Did she say anything about Mr. Hogg being present?”

The desk clerk smiled. “She mentioned something about working with amateurs, but was her usual chipper self.”

“I hope so. We have enough cranky people under this roof at the moment.”

“Not you, Miss Jane. You're practically glowing.”

Jane touched the paper rose petal in her pocket and grinned. “Who could blame me? I'm about to spend an hour watching not one, but two master chocolatiers at work. I'll bring back samples for you and the other clerks.”

“This job definitely has its perks,” the clerk said and handed Jane a clipboard with a sheet listing the names of the guests who'd signed up for the truffle workshop.

Feeling quite giddy, Jane made her way to the Morning Room.

Located at the eastern corner of Storyton Hall, the Daphne du Maurier Morning Room was filled with furniture
and floral fabrics reminiscent of a 1930s British country house. Jane had always found the room calm and soothing. It was a sunny place with gold curtains, a white washed fireplace, and wallpaper featuring a pattern of white roses on a field of gold. Specially ordered from England, the pattern was actually called Manderley.

At the moment, there were no comfy sofas and chairs perched on the floral rug. They'd been removed to make room for rows of folding chairs and sturdy worktables. Mrs. Hubbard, who stood behind the longest table, was busy testing one of several portable gas burners while Tobias Hogg arranged a variety of chocolate, chopped nuts, fruit, and cordials into neat piles at the other end of the table.

“It already smells like heaven,” Jane said to Mrs. Hubbard. “I hope you're both ready for a packed house.”

“We most certainly are,” Mrs. Hubbard said, her cheeks pink with exertion. She cast a glance at Tobias. “And I'm grateful for Mr. Hogg's assistance. Even with my staff on hand, helping so many ladies make their own truffles will be a challenge.”

Jane looked around the room, wondering if they should have held the event in a different place, but the Morning Room was closer to the kitchen than the Ian Fleming Lounge or any of the conference rooms. And Shakespeare's Theater wasn't an option because a game of Regency Romance Charades would take place there in an hour's time. “What flavor truffles are you making?”

Mrs. Hubbard put her hands on her hips and surveyed the ingredients laid out before her. “Chocolate-covered raspberry, peanut butter pretzel, key lime, and mocha hazelnut.”

“They sound delicious,” Jane said. “And ambitious.”

Tobias smiled. “Mrs. Hubbard wisely prepared the ganache ahead of time. The guests only need to concentrate on the filling.”

Preening, Mrs. Hubbard said, “The ladies
will
have to add Chambord to the ganache for the chocolate-covered raspberry truffles. It just wouldn't be the same without that dash of liqueur. By contrast, the layers of flavor in the peanut
butter pretzel truffle are all in the filling. Mr. Hogg created the recipe from scratch. For something relatively simple to make, it's most impressive.”

“But not nearly as good as your key lime truffles. Rolling the finished truffle in coconut is pure genius. It adds texture to your perfect blend of lime and melted chocolate.”

Clever Tobias,
Jane thought.
It didn't take you long to figure out that Mrs. Hubbard is susceptible to flattery.

Dimples appeared on Mrs. Hubbard's cheeks. “We have samples of each truffle for the ladies to nibble on while they're watching our demonstration. Would you like a few to enjoy with your tea?”

Jane thought of the front desk clerk. “Yes, please.” And then, hearing the sound of voices in the hall, said, “I'll try some later. Your first attendees are arriving.”

Moving into the hall, Jane raised her clipboard and greeted the first guest. “Are you here for the truffle workshop?”

“I am!” The woman grinned gleefully. “I've been looking forward to it for weeks.”

“Your name, please?” Jane asked, made a check next to the women's name, and then turned to the next guest.

Anna, Betsy, and Mrs. Pratt were among the last to show up.

“We had to pry Mrs. Pratt away from her Scot,” Anna teased.

“I wish all of the Cover Girls had been here to see them together,” Betsy said. “They make a lovely couple.”

Mrs. Pratt scowled. “We're hardly a couple. We shared a meal together. That's all.”

Jane suspected her friends saw through Mrs. Pratt's protests as clearly as she did. “Well, there's no doubt in my mind that Gavin wanted to impress you. He only dons his kilt for special occasions.”

“Just tic my name and let me get a seat, though the best ones are undoubtedly taken already,” Mrs. Pratt grumbled.

The room filled quickly. Jane was just about to shut the door when Nigel Poindexter appeared in the threshold. “I didn't sign up for this event, but with your permission, I'd love to observe. I could take notes for a future article and
then photograph the chefs and their finished products after the guests leave. I am well aware of the resort's technology restrictions and wouldn't dream of breaking the rules, which is why I'm seeking your consent first.” He cleared his throat. “And while I have a moment of privacy, I'd like to apologize for what happened at lunch. I'm afraid I might have pushed a topic too far with Ms. York. I'll endeavor to make amends at the end of this event.”

Relieved to hear that Nigel planned to smooth things over with Rosamund, Jane led the journalist into the room. “Why don't you take up position by the fireplace? If you're willing to stand, you should have an unobstructed view.”

Jane then gave Mrs. Hubbard a little wave, signaling that the show was all hers.

For the next hour, Jane was as riveted by the demonstration as the rest of the audience. Watching Mrs. Hubbard and Tobias Hogg work their magic had a hypnotic effect. The scent of melted chocolate perfumed the room and Jane's stomach grumbled. She'd missed afternoon tea and was more than ready for a little refreshment.

When the demonstration portion of the event was over, Jane decided to sneak off to the kitchens to pilfer a treat from the cooling racks and to fix herself a cup of tea. She waited until Mrs. Hubbard had divided the guests into four groups and was guiding her eager pupils through the first steps of truffle making before slipping from the room.

In the noisy, warm kitchens, Jane put the kettle on and debated over whether to snack on a mango tartlet or a frosted butter cookie shaped like a teacup.

Touching the rose petal in her pocket, Jane felt a fresh flutter of excitement. “Why not one of each? I'll be training again tomorrow morning. I can burn off the extra calories then.”

After devouring the sweets, Jane finished her tea and returned to the Daphne du Maurier Morning Room just in time to welcome the celebrity taste testers.

Georgia, Ciara, and Barbara walked closely together, keeping a noticeable distance between themselves and Rosamund. As for Rosamund, she seemed unperturbed by the
snub. If she was upset by their aloofness, she showed no trace of it.

“Truffles are my weakness,” she said to Jane in a conspiratorial whisper as Taylor preceded her into the room. “My fans know that I can't write a book without a box of truffles at the ready, and I plan to shower the ladies with compliments after I taste their handiwork. Despite the little hiccup we're experiencing with
Eros
, I don't want to disappoint a single reader.”

With a toss of her blond mane, Rosamund strode into the room. Mrs. Hubbard rushed forward to meet her, smiling solicitously. Betsy, Anna, and Mrs. Pratt were the only women who seemed glad to see Rosamund. The rest of the women either glared at Rosamund or turned away in disgust.

“It seems as though her readers would rather poison her than fawn over her,” Ciara said to Barbara in a low undertone.

Before Barbara could reply, a member of the waitstaff led Ciara to one of the fan tables while Tobias offered Barbara his arm. When she took it, he stared at her in open admiration. “Forgive me for being forward, but you're even prettier than the picture on your book jacket. My mother is one of your biggest fans.”

“You can keep being forward as long as you like,” Barbara said and squeezed Tobias's arm.

Cupid strikes again
, Jane thought with a smile.

She watched the authors circulate around the tables, taking bites of truffles and extolling their virtues. Taylor trailed behind Rosamund, holding her water bottle and asking readers leading questions about Venus Dares. It was a shrewd move on Taylor's part and, for the moment, the ladies seemed to forget that they were angry with Rosamund.

Except for Maria Stone. Jane started when she caught sight of the young woman positioned between two matronly ladies by the table near the window. While Maria's dark eyes locked on Rosamund, Jane wondered how she'd missed seeing Maria enter the room. Jane could only assume that Maria had snuck in behind another group of women, but she was still furious with herself for failing to have remonstrated
Maria about the threatening note she'd slipped under Rosamund's door.

Oh no, Rosamund is heading right for her! And there's no time for me to run interference.

Jane looked on, her body taut with tension, as Maria offered Rosamund a truffle.

Jane waited for Maria to launch a barrage of disparaging remarks, but she did nothing of the sort. In a pleasant and completely conversational tone, she described the truffle—a mocha hazelnut—and watched Rosamund pop the confection into her mouth.

Rosamund chewed and chewed and then rolled her eyes and moaned. After taking a sip of water, she put a hand on Maria's shoulder. “I adore truffles made with nuts. The mocha hazelnut is my absolute favorite of the four flavors served today and yours had the richest mocha taste of all. Well done.”

Rosamund praised the rest of the ladies at the table for their culinary skill and then moved on to the final group.

Spotting Nigel by the fireplace, Jane clenched her teeth. Maria might have refrained from confronting Rosamund, but would Rosamund illustrate the same restraint with Nigel or would there be another scene like the one in the dining room earlier that day?

However, Rosamund seemed to only have eyes for her fans. She sampled more truffles, enthusiastically praised the ladies, and accepted water from Taylor.

Her tasting duties done, Rosamund made to leave, but Nigel intercepted her before she could reach the door. He put his hand over his heart and bowed contritely. The pair exchanged a few words and then left the room together. Seeing them walk off, Jane released a pent-up breath.

High on chocolate, the rest of the women in the room chirped and twittered like songbirds. Jane glanced at her watch and decided to head for home. The twins would be ready for an afternoon snack and homework supervision. After that, it would be suppertime.

“Before I start cooking,” she said to herself. “I must find the second half to Edwin's quote.”

As it turned out, she couldn't look for the quote until after Fitz and Hem had gone to bed. Most of her evening was devoted to helping the boys finish their endangered species dioramas. Fitz, who'd picked a snow leopard, had managed to glue more cotton balls to the kitchen table than to his shoebox.

“Your leopard's habitat is spreading,” Jane said while snatching a tube of blue glitter from Hem's hand. “Your water has enough sparkle.”

“But, Mom,” Hem protested. “Two people picked the North Atlantic Right Whale and I want my diorama to be the best!”

Jane patted his shoulder. “With all the green Laffy Taffy you used to make sea plants, yours is bound to be the sweetest project in the classroom.”

To Fitz, she said, “And yours will be the fluffiest.”

The boys finally finished their projects and spent a half hour watching cartoons and another forty-five minutes reading in bed before Jane finally switched off their lights.

When she was sure they were really asleep and not just faking it, Jane carried a glass of wine and Edwin's rose petal into the living room. Taking a well-worn copy of
Pride and Prejudice
down from the bookshelf, she curled up on the sofa and began to read the familiar passages. The words were like old friends, and it was a joy to reunite with them. The house was blissfully quiet. The only sounds were the snaps and crackles of the logs burning in the hearth, and Jane began to relax for the first time in days.

She read until she came to the novel's first dance scene and then sat bolt upright, nearly spilling her wine. Grabbing the rose petal, she read the complete quote aloud. “‘To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.'” She stared at the open page. “Falling in love? Oh my.”

She sank back against the cushions again while her mouth curved into a secretive smile.

You barely know the man
, the rational part of her brain chided.

Let's hope that changes very soon
, the emotional side answered.

Later, Jane nestled deep under her covers and touched
Edwin's rose before she drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of dancing with a tall, dark-haired man in a toga.

The ringing of the telephone on her nightstand jarred her awake. Bleary-eyed, Jane reached for the handset while squinting at the clock. It was a few minutes past five in the morning.

“Miss Jane?” It was Butterworth. “Forgive me for waking you. I wouldn't have done so if the situation wasn't urgent.”

“What situation?” Jane croaked, struggling to sit up.

“Mr. Sterling just found Ms. York in Milton's gardens.”

Still groggy, Jane reached over and switched on the light. Wincing against the sudden brilliance, she asked, “What's she doing in the garden? It's freezing.”