“Do you find this all quite nonsensical?” He was English, but looked like a Viking—broad shoulders, blond hair, pale blue eyes. “Someone was murdered today and we’re all to stand about acting as if nothing’s happened? Drinking champagne?”

“It’s beyond astonishing,” I said, relieved to have the subject addressed directly.

“And you’re the one who stumbled upon the body, aren’t you?” he asked. “Forgive me. Have I made you uncomfortable? I’ve a terrible habit of being too blunt.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Nothing you could say now would make the experience worse.” My stomach churned as I remembered the brutal scene.

“What are the bloody police doing?” he asked. “Will the inveterate Inspector Gaudet be joining us for dinner? Will he regale us with tales of his investigation?”

“George, are you tormenting this poor woman?” His wife, slender and rosy, appeared at his side and laid a graceful hand on his arm. He beamed down at her.

“You are unkind, my darling,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of tormenting anyone, let alone such a beauty. Lady Emily and I were merely discussing the way everyone is avoiding the topic much on all our minds.”

“I can’t imagine the tumult of emotions throttling you at the moment,” she said. Her English was flawless, but made exotic by her thick French accent. “But I must admit I’m desperate to ask you all sorts of completely inappropriate questions.”

“I shan’t allow that,” her husband said. “You, Madeline, don’t need any fuel for bad dreams.”

“He’s beyond protective.” She beamed up at him. “But so handsome I’m likely to forgive him anything.”

“She requires protection,” he said. “Anyone would, living where we do.”