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Book 8 of the Dottie Manderson mysteries finds Dottie fed up with waiting and all the fuss, and just wanting to get on with being Mrs Detective Inspector William Hardy. An unexpected invitation could be just what she needs. How wonderful it will be to get away to a weekend house party and forget all the worries of organising the wedding! Unfortunately it's a house party that will never be forgotten: squabbles, cliques and even unexpected death. Of course, William, like all husbands-to-be everywhere, has no interest whatsoever in the problems of the right kind of lace or the perfect place setting. In any case, he's got a special kind of investigation going on, one that means bringing a good friend to justice, stretching his loyalty to his profession almost to breaking point. Extract: The door opened. A timid little red-headed maid stood on the threshold looking extremely nervous. 'Well?' demanded Salt. She was a fierce protector of her ladyship's privacy. 'Begging your pardon, my lady,' the young woman began. 'But Sir Nigel's compliments and would it suit your ladyship to place your jewellery into Sir Nigel's safe for the evening? There's been two break-ins on this square in the last week, and Sir Nigel doesn't want to run any risks with your ladyship's valuables.' She accompanied this information with a kind of bobbing curtsey, all the while nervously wringing her hands. Lady Matilda thought she was rather a sweet little thing. 'And what is your name, my dear?' demanded her ladyship. 'Eliza, ma'am. Eliza Smallwood. I'm new in this establishment.' 'Well, Eliza Smallwood, I am most obliged to you. Please take my jewellery case to Sir Nigel at once and thank him for his good sense and kind thoughts. Salt, give the child the case. But make sure to keep out what I need for this evening, obviously.' 'Yes, my lady.' Salt extracted several glittering items of great value. Once Lady Matilda had nodded her approval, the case was locked up again, the tiny key slipped into Salt's pocket, and the case was handed to the young maid. Eliza Smallwood gave another little bob and clutching the jewellery case to her as if her life depended on keeping it safe, she said, 'Thank you, your ladyship. I'll take these to Sir Nigel directly. Good evening.' The door closed behind her, and Salt and Lady Matilda resumed their discussion relating to the precise colour and fabric of the gown worn on the evening of the Royal Gala almost fifty years earlier. In the dining-room, Lady Matilda was seated on Sir Nigel's right hand. She asked after his health, heard with patience of his sciatica and stiff knees-she was herself a martyr to her knees-and promised to let him have Salt's remedy for the relief of the discomfort. Then at last, she remarked, 'Nigel, dearest. It was so thoughtful of you to send up that sweet little girl to fetch my jewellery. I shall feel so much happier knowing my grandmother's diamonds are safely locked away. These robberies are such a worry, are they not?' He stared at her for a second or two too long, and she immediately divined that something was amiss. But before she could quiz him about it, the door was flung open to the astonishment of all the other diners, and Salt ran in, tears streaming down her face, causing everyone to turn and stare, drinks and forks halted halfway to their mouths. She wailed, 'Oh my dear lady, I've just found out! There isn't any such maid as that Eliza girl in the house. She's gone off with all your valuables!'