She knew what he was doing. She could see right through him. If he remained at her side, she could neither dive into the pot of macaroni nor steal it for Alice and Tamsin. He was smiling at her, the great smug lout.
Perhaps she could pretend a fondness for horse mash. How would he react if she stood up, crossed the room, and locked eyes with him while she slowly consumed an entire pot of food ostensibly for equines?
“While we wait,” Archer said, “perhaps you can tell me more about Princess Serafina. I’ve never met her.”
That was convenient, as neither had Ruby.
The room had emptied while they spoke, but before Ruby could summon some half-remembered details about the princess, Lamentation caromed back. He gave the general impression of springs all over—his curls fluttered as he bounced up and down on his heels.
“Cap,” he gasped, “we need you.”
Archer looked from Lamentation to Ruby to the macaroni. “I wouldn’t like to leave Lady Ruby alone.”
Visions of bacon danced in her head. “Oh no,” she said, “please. Do go on. Your footman needs assistance. I shall be fine here.”
“I must insist—”
Lamentation cast an agonized glance at them both. “Wereallyneed you. Lady Ruby can return to her companions.”
“Yes, of course.” Ruby waved a hand at the door. “I’ll follow just behind you. Don’t mind me.”
Archer cupped her elbow. “Perhaps Lady Ruby can come with us.”
“That would not be wise,” Lamentation said in a strangled voice.
Ruby plucked her elbow from Captain Archer’s warm, callused grip. “Why not?”
“Because...” Lamentation looked helplessly around the room. “Because... we’ve been attacked.”
“Attacked?” Archer echoed. His whole body tensed, even though Ruby was fairly certain he knew as well as she did that Lamentation was lying through his teeth.
“Yes!” Lamentation exclaimed. “Attacked. By the Scourge of St. Petroc’s!”
Chapter 7
Archer sat at his desk and stared at Gerry and Lamentation. Both looked considerably more drooping and tragic than the bloodhounds at their feet.
“Tell me that it worked,” he said. “Tell me they’re finally leaving.”
Gerry winced. “Ah,” he rumbled. “No.”
Archer tried not to grind his teeth. “Tell me that you did not fill this house with hundreds of green, malodorous beetles fornothing.”
Five days ago, he’d been forced to abandon Lady Ruby to her own devices in the kitchen. She had, as he’d anticipated, promptly purloined Wall’s favorite macaroni. Lamentation, meanwhile, had dragged Archer to the back of the house, where the makings of one of their schemes to rid the house of ladies-in-waiting had gone somewhat awry.
For over a week, Lamentation and Gerry—motivated, as usual, by Lamentation’s penchant for brilliant ideas—had been gathering shield bugs, which they’d intended to loose in the ladies’ bedchambers. Unfortunately, the shield bugs had broken free from their cardboard captivity and begun to flutter wildly about the room that Gerry and Lamentation shared.
It had taken hours to get the damned things back in the boxes, and Wall had been shouting about proper habitation and diet, and Archer was absolutely certain that a number of the creatures had slipped out through a gap beneath the door hinge. He kept finding the escapees in his coat and his trouser pockets and once, memorably, deep within one of his stockings.
Lamentation had promised Wall that they would release the remaining bugs into the ladies’ room expediently, and Archer had spent the subsequent days hoping against hope for the sound of ladylike shrieks. Or packing. Or the departing footsteps of expensive slippers.
He had heard nothing of the sort.
“She liked them,” Gerry said gloomily.
“Who did? Lady Ruby?” Archer sprang to his feet and started to pace. One of the bloodhounds bayed enthusiastically in response.
Ofcourseshe would like the beetles, damned devil creature that she was. She had certainly liked everything else he’d thrown at her.
