“Her ladyship has been… exerting herself in the ballroom. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll let her know she has a visitor.”
“No need to trouble yourself.” Gideon stepped neatly past him. “I know the way.”
Drake hesitated again, clearly torn between protocol and the peculiar rhythms of this household.
“Very good, my lord,” he conceded at last. “But I would advise caution. The footmen have been managing the recent delivery of… hay.”
Gideon paused.
“Hay.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He knew Beatrice was more accustomed to life out in the country, but what possible reason…?
“Of course.”
Gideon proceeded down the corridor, the house quiet at this hour. Strands of—yes, hay—lay scattered across the polished parquet. He stepped over a small drift of it.
The scent reached him fully now—dry, faintly sweet, unmistakable. Not beeswax and lavender. Not polish and hearth smoke, but something closer to what one would find in a stable. And the scent was growing stronger the closer he got to his destination.
Gideon opened the door, in a manner he’d realize later was far too careless.
The air snapped beside his cheek.
A bright, vicious flash cut past him—so close he felt the breath of it against his skin, a cold whisper where warmth ought to have been.
Then—
Thud.
Behind him, where flowers and statues were normally displayed, a makeshift target had been erected. Bales of hay stacked against paneling. A circle chalked at its center.
And embedded there, quivering faintly?—
Not an arrow.
A blade.
A MEDDLING INTRUDER
Beatrice lowered her arm slowly.
She had not missed.
Pas tout à fait. Not quite.
A fraction to the left, perhaps. But she had calculated the distance, the weight of the blade, the balance in her hand, and the precise force necessary to send it where she wished.
She had not calculated a six-foot baron entering without the courtesy of a knock.
Admittedly, she had expected him to call on her at some point today.
Later, though. Definitely not the exact instant the knife left her fingers.
Inconvenient man.
She had seen it in his expression the night before, that calm, almost paternal inclination to observe. To assess. To impose rules.
