‘Cassandra, where exactly are you planning to hold the funeral?’ Joe asked carefully. ‘I had imagined Westminster. Or St Martin’s …’
‘I’ve just told you, Joe. Weren’t you listening? At St Mary’s, Upper Dedham. Had you forgotten that Oliver was, like his hero Nelson, a Norfolk man? And — isn’t it surprising how these things turn out? — the royal family has gathered together for the next few weeks in Sandringham. Not their usual annual progress — one might have expected them to be up at Balmoral by now, surely? Odd, that … but conveniently for us, that’s where they are — in Norfolk.’
‘Surprising, indeed,’ said Joe. ‘But — convenient? Not so sure about that.’ He caught the flare of alarm in Wentworth’s eyes and began to get to his feet.
Chapter Thirty-Two
He clamped Lily’s arm under his and set off at a fast lick up the boulevard towards the taxi rank in Grosvenor Place. The scene he’d just witnessed had disturbed him and he wondered how much of the undercurrent had been picked up by the sharp young woman trotting at his side. He decided to find out. He’d come at it crabwise.
‘Well, what did you make of Cousin Seb, then?’
‘A dangerous man, sir.’
‘Really? In what way?’
‘In the way a sixteen-point stag is dangerous to any rival. He’s marking out his territory, bellowing about the place and making sure of his hind.’
‘Great heavens! You make that genteel drawing room sound like a Scottish moor in the rutting season.’