An attack on the host of a fancy tea party sends Theodosia Browning looking for answers in the latest entry in the New York Times bestselling series. Tea maven Theodosia Browning and her tea sommelier, Drayton Conneley, are catering a Victorian Christmas party at a swanky mansion in downtown Charleston. Drucilla Heyward, the hostess, is one of the wealthiest women in town. As the champagne flows and the tea steeps, Drucilla is so pleased with the reception by her partygoers that she reveals her secret plan to Theodosia. The Grande Dame has brought the cream of Charleston society together to reveal that she is planning to give her wealth away to various charitable organizations. However, before she can make the announcement, Theodosia finds her crumpled unconscious in the hallway. It looks like the excitement has gotten to the elderly woman--except that there is a syringe sticking out of her neck. INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES AND TEA TIME TIPS! Laura Childs is the New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries, the Scrapbooking Mysteries, and the Cackleberry Club Mysteries. In her previous life she was CEO of her own marketing firm, authored several screenplays, and produced a reality TV show. 1 'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the house, a Victorian Christmas party was stirring in a genuine Victorian mansion at one of the swankiest addresses in all of Charleston, South Carolina. The original owner of the mansion had been a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and the current resident, a certain Miss Drucilla Heyward, was signatory on a bank account that contained more money than the GDP of a small European country. Picture it this way: a group of well-heeled women in St. John Knits and low-heeled Manolos, wearing stacks of bangles, diamond-stud earrings, and subtle hints of Chanel No. 5. All quite tasteful and genteel as they sipped Lapsang souchong from bone china teacups. The men at the party leaned toward portly and were beginning to get ruddy faced from nipping brandy. The rent-a-bartender in his snug red rent-a-jacket was pouring Hennessy X.O tonight, so that was what they were drinking. Talking stock markets and sailboats and business and family, dressed in conservative Corneliani suits from M. Dumas & Sons on King Street, here and there a few of them sporting tartan plaid vests or Christmas bow ties. And down the hallway, in the palatial dining room . . . Theodosia Browning would never consider herself a member of this well-heeled, fairly insular group. But she knew what they liked. Which is why she'd orchestrated a spectacular menu for tonight's party. Rare roast beef on rye with dabs of horse radish, steamed blue crabs pulled fresh from local tidal creeks, Capers Blades oysters on the half shell, goat cheese crostini, and spicy chimichurri steak bites. And then there were the tea sandwiches. "I hope the guests love these little sandwiches as much as I do," Theodosia said as she arranged her offerings on polished silver trays. "The crab salad on brioche?" Drayton asked. As Theodosia's tea sommelier at the Indigo Tea Shop, he was also her partner in crime for tonight's catering gig. "And lobster salad accented with fresh tarragon. Haley whipped up both fillings using her famous homemade mayonnaise recipe-or receipt, as she calls it." "Yum," Drayton said. "No wonder Miss Drucilla asked us to serve champagne along with Lapsang souchong." He paused. "I do love that tea. The gently twisted leaves impart such a delicious smoky flavor." "I'd say it's all rather perfect," Theodosia said. She stepped back to admire their buffet table, an amazing amalgam of food, flickering candles, crystal vases filled with red and white roses, and some silver angel figurines that had somehow snuck their way in. As proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop on Charleston's famed Church Street, Theodosia was used to serving cream teas, luncheon teas, and afternoon teas. But anytime she could land a fancy catering job-and this one sure was fancy-it was a happy addition to her shop's bottom line. Theodosia also knew that happy, satisfied guests often led to new bookings, which led to more business for her tea shop. And, really, wasn't that a good no-brainer kind of marketing? Theodosia normally wore T-shirts, khaki slacks, and a long black Parisian waiter's apron. But tonight she was glammed up in a red velvet hostess skirt and a pink ruffled blouse that set off her complexion to perfection. Her English ancestors had blessed her with fair peaches-and-cream skin, startling deep blue eyes, and an inquisitive face. And some distant-distant relatives (from perhaps even farther north?) had gifted her with masses of curly auburn hair. In her mid-thirties now, Theodosia had worked in marketing, traveled a bit, dated enough men to know what type she preferred, and set up her own tea shop. In other words, she knew enough to be dangerous. Drayton Conneley, also a born-and-bred Southerne