Beguiled. Shannon Drake

son,” he said softly, “it will be awkward to express your regrets, but…Giles Brandon, dash it all,” he said sadly. “Jeeter, please see that my coach is ready.”

      When Jeeter had left the room, Joseph looked at his son.

      “Go, then. There is a dead man calling your name.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE KITCHEN REMAINED ALIVE with movement. Theodore called out directions, and at least two dozen workers and servers were scurrying about.

      All movement stopped when Camille first walked in, Ally in tow. Heads bowed in acknowledgment to the lady of the castle.

      “Please,” Camille murmured, a tinge of color in her cheeks. “Don’t let me disturb your hard work.” She steered Ally quickly toward a large butcher-block table, where Inspector Turner was waiting.

      He’d been well fed. Theodore would have seen to that.

      He stood as the women approached. “I’m sorry to be a nuisance on such an evening,” he apologized.

      He had the look of a sad old basset hound, Ally thought. He had dark eyes that had seen too much, and a heavily lined face. But his bearing was tall and dignified, and he spoke softly. She believed he took his work to heart.

      “How do you do,” she murmured.

      “Inspector, my ward, Alexandra Grayson.”

      “Miss Grayson…I have spoken to Lord Stirling, but you are the one who can really help me. I need a description of this man, the highwayman.”

      “I wish that I could help you more, Inspector,” Ally said. “But as to a description…it’s quite difficult.”

      “All right, let me ask you questions, then. Was he tall or short?”

      “Tall.”

      “And his build?” the inspector queried.

      She hesitated.

      “Certainly not a skinny chap? Though it’s true that a gun can make a small man seem more powerful than he really is,” he said.

      “No, not skinny,” she said. They were both staring at her. She had to give them more than this. “He was built something like Lord Stirling, I suppose….”

      “Rides well?” the inspector asked.

      “Very.”

      “Perhaps someone who has served with the queen’s forces,” the inspector said, more to himself than to Ally or Camille. “Now, what about his face? His coloring?”

      She frowned. “Inspector, I wish that I could be more helpful. All of them wore masks, hats and cloaks.”

      “But according to Lord Stirling’s man, Shelby, the highwayman himself took off with you.”

      She shook her head. “He wanted only to know my name, and I was perhaps being a bit stubborn. He took nothing from me.”

      “And…he did not hurt you in any way?”

      If she weren’t feeling so uncomfortable herself, she would have felt sorry for the inspector. He was trying to ask the question so delicately.

      “I was not harmed in any way at all,” she assured him quickly, wondering if she was flushing.

      “And nothing was stolen?”

      “Nothing.” Ally hesitated. “Perhaps it occurred to him that he had stopped a carriage belonging to Lord Stirling, and that Lord Stirling is a man who would come after him himself, and with a vengeance.”

      “Perhaps,” the inspector mused.

      He stared at her hard again, and Ally felt even more acutely uncomfortable. This was a man whose job was to question people. It was as if he read her every movement and nuance as he listened to her words.

      “So…you can’t tell me his eye color?”

      “I wish I could. They were dark, I believe, though the mask caused shadows, you know.”

      “And you must have been very frightened,” Camille murmured, loading another layer of guilt upon Ally’s shoulders.

      “Surely you’ve had other descriptions,” Ally murmured.

      “Always the same,” Inspector Turner said with a sigh. “Even in broad daylight. People remember the mask, and a cape or a cloak…riding boots. Who in England does not possess a pair of riding boots? But don’t fear, Miss Grayson. We will apprehend this culprit.”

      “I believe we have guests arriving,” Camille said as she noted waiters, clad in tuxedos, heading out of the kitchen with trays bearing crystal flutes of champagne.

      “Then by all means attend to your company. I believe that Miss Grayson has told me all that she can—all her mind will allow—for the time being,” Inspector Turner said.

      And what exactly did that mean? Ally wondered.

      “It’s amazing,” Inspector Turner said, shaking his head sadly. “At least, Miss Grayson, you do not sound addled, as do some of the ladies who have been stopped by the highwayman. One would almost think they found the loss of a diamond trinket or the like to be well worth the price of an encounter with the man.”

      “What?” Camille exclaimed, astonished.

      Inspector Turner shrugged. “They tell me he is polite and charming as he robs them.”

      “Ally is no silly child to have her head turned by such a brigand, no matter how courteous,” Camille said.

      “Of course,” the inspector agreed. “Well, I thank you for your assistance. And I beg you, please, enjoy your soiree.”

      “Inspector, you are most welcome to join us,” Camille said.

      “Duty calls, Lady Stirling, but I thank you. I have already partaken of your hospitality. Your cook has seen to it that I’ve had the best meal I’ve enjoyed in…ah, well, maybe forever. I will bid you good evening.”

      “I thank you for coming, Inspector,” Camille said.

      “Yes, thank you,” Ally murmured.

      Camille had her arm. Ally smiled uneasily at the inspector as Camille led her from the kitchen. In the hallway to the foyer, Camille shook her head, saying, “All this, on such a night.”

      “Camille, please, why is tonight such an occasion?” Ally implored.

      Camille opened her mouth to answer, but Brian had disengaged himself from a portly gentleman to come toward them. “Camille, my dear, I need you for a moment. Ally, come along and meet Lord Wittburg.”

      Ally didn’t make it across the great hall. There was a mischievous tap on her shoulder, and she spun around.

      It was Hunter MacDonald, another of her self-proclaimed guardians. She loved Hunter dearly. He was, in his way, a total rogue—or had been until he had fallen head over heels in love with his wife, Kat. They were a reckless couple, daring and a bit outrageous, ever ready to head out on an adventure.

      “My dear, look at you!” Hunter exclaimed, eyes brilliant and teasing. “All grown up. Why, you will leave a horde of swains languishing wherever you walk.”

      “That’s quite kind, Sir Hunter,” she said. “But I’ve been all grown up for some time, you all have simply not noticed.”

      “I’m wounded.”

      She laughed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I had thought you might be off on another adventure in Egypt.”

      “Ally, Ally, has all my teaching been in vain? Way too hot in Egypt at the moment. Perhaps you can join us this year. It may be your one chance.”

      “My one chance?” she inquired.

      But