Royal, who’d been looking mostly amused by the ridiculous scene, leveled a narrow-eyed gaze on Richard.
“Campbell, are you calling my daughter a liar?” he said, his voice so cold one could almost feel the north wind.
Ainsley joined her husband. “It certainly seemed like it to me. How distressing.”
Tira, who had inherited her mother’s dramatic skills, rubbed the corner of one eye. “Mamma, you know I would never do such a thing. You and Papa taught me that lying was wrong.”
Ainsley opened her arms. “I know, darling. Come here.”
Tira ran into her mother’s arms. “I don’t like that man,” she said in a muffled voice. “He’s mean.”
“If it wasn’t the middle of the night, I would ask your father to challenge Mr. Campbell to a duel.” Ainsley smiled at Lady Kinloch. “Royal was the most accomplished swordsman in his regiment. His nickname was the Terror of the Black Watch.”
“Heavens!” cried Melissa.
Kade glanced at Charlie. The imp had a hand clamped over her mouth, clearly stifling laughter at the Kendricks’ stellar performance.
“You exaggerate my prowess, my love,” Royal said to Ainsley in a powder-dry voice.
“Och,” said Angus. “Ye’d run booby Campbell through in a trice.”
“I say,” exclaimed Richard, obviously a little alarmed.
Kade decided it was time to intervene. “Lady Kinloch, you need only inquire of the maids. They also saw Angus and I go up to the roof while the music was still playing.”
She gave him a gracious smile. “I trust you and my cousin completely, of course.”
“Of course it wasn’t Kendrick,” Lord Kinloch said, looking mightily aggrieved. “It was obviously Charlotte, although why the devil she’d do such a thing is beyond me.”
“But, Papa,” Charlie protested, “I too came out into the hall when I heard the music, just like the rest of you. How could I possibly do that and be up on the roof?”
“Well, I didn’t see you come out,” he said, “and neither did your mother. You just popped up in the back a few minutes ago.”
“I saw her,” Ainsley said. “She came out of her room at the same time as Royal and me.”
Kinloch whipped around and scowled at Royal. “Is that true, Kendrick?”
“Of course. Absolutely,” said Royal, with a commendably straight face.
“Then if it wasn’t Kendrick and it wasn’t Charlie, who the devil was it?” Kinloch demanded.
“It must be the Kinloch Fiddler,” Melissa said, her voice quavering. “It’s the only explanation.”
Then she promptly burst into tears, throwing herself into her husband’s arms. Colin clumsily patted his wife’s back while casting a pleading gaze at Lady Kinloch.
Her ladyship sighed. “Everyone, please go back to bed. There has been quite enough nonsense for one night.”
She took Melissa by the arm and hustled her off, Colin trailing gloomily in their wake.
Morgan had been sitting in a window alcove looking bored by the proceedings and now finally spoke up. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but who is this Kinloch Fiddler and why is our dear little Melissa so upset about him?”
“He’s some blasted, stupid ghost,” Kinloch snapped. “Stuff and nonsense.”
“They say he shows up and plays his fiddle when something bad is about to happen,” Charlie helpfully supplied. “It’s been a legend in the family for centuries. Something to do with an ancient battle between the clans.”
Morgan roared with laughter, slapping his knee. “How splendid. Just what this party needed—a bloody musical ghost foretelling doom.”
Kinloch glared at him. “I’ll thank you not to spread stories about inane ghosts, sir. You’ll frighten half the servants out of their wits.”
