Gareth chewed once, twice, and then glanced at Edward.
Edward smiled. Told you so.
Gareth chewed again, doggedly.
“Might be another week before the bridge is fixed,” Strickland said, a sharp note of petulance in his voice. “A week! I don’t know what this parish is coming to.”
Gareth finally swallowed. He washed the mouthful down with a large gulp of tea and laid the rest of the shortbread on his plate.
“I’ve been saying for years that it needed to be replaced,” Strickland said testily. “But no one paid the slightest attention to me! Why, it was plainly obvious—”
The entrance of Lady Marchbank and Mrs. Dunn into the library halted his complaint. The introductions were made again, more tea was poured, and Strickland continued his criticism of the parish’s roads.
Edward idly watched th
