Page 41 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Are you lost, m’lord? I can have someone take you back to the ballroom.”

“No, Mrs.—” he lifted a brow in question.

“Childs,” she said, “Mrs. Childs.”

“Mrs. Childs,” Erroll replied. “I—” he paused and motioned her a few feet to the right, away from the servants who stood still as mice. “I am looking for a young maid.”

The cook’s eyes widened.

“For information,” he quickly added. He was no good at this. “My fiancé encountered her earlier in the gardens. I am embarrassed to admit my lady eluded me. A lovers’ quarrel,” he added. “I hope to make amends.”

The cook’s mouth twitched. “Happens to the best of gentlemen, my lord.”

“Indeed,” he replied, and silently added, and the worst.

“That would have been Sally in the gardens,” Mrs. Childs said. “I sent her for apples.” She nodded to the tray of turnovers on the table.

“Ah,” Erroll said. “So you are the master baker that makes the famous apple turnovers.”

She blushed. “I wouldn’t say famous, m’lord.”

“On the contrary, they are the best in all of London.”

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “I couldn’t say, your lordship.”

Erroll laughed. “I have had them. They are nothing short of extraordinary. Now, where might I find Miss Sally?”

Surprise shone in Mrs. Childs’ eyes, along with a hint of admiration—yes, Erroll knew full well the affect he had on women, as well as the added effect of addressing the maid as a gentle born lady.

As hoped, the cook offered with enthusiasm, “I’ll fetch her.”

She disappeared into the scullery to his right and Erroll nodded to the on-looking servants. They jerked into motion as one, but he wasn’t fooled. They busied themselves, each with one eye on him. It was bad enough they’d been privy to his asking after Miss Crenshaw. He didn’t want them overhearing his conversation with Sally. One maid he might be able to talk into keeping quiet, but even an edict from on high couldn’t silence a full staff of servants. Erroll headed through the door, down the short hallway and turned into the scullery, coming chest to nose with Mrs. Childs.

“My lord,” she cried, and fell back a step.

Her ample rump crashed into Sally and Erroll seized each woman by the arm to keep them from falling.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” the cook replied, while Sally nodded, eyes wide.

Erroll released them. “I am a nuisance, I know.”

“Oh, no, m’lord,” Mrs. Childs said. “I just didn’t expect you here.”

He said with a laugh, “Most men shun the kitchen,” then added in a low voice as if he would get into trouble if discovered in the female domain, “especially the scullery. I’m just rather anxious. A groom to be.” He winked. “You understand.”

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Childs said, then faced the maid. “Sally, his lordship is asking about the lady you met in the gardens.” The girl’s eyes widened and she cast an anxious look at Mrs. Childs, who said in a no nonsense voice, “Answer his questions.”

“I heard something in the bushes,” Sally blurted.

His kidnapping no doubt.

“I called out,” the maid went on, “and the lady came out of the bushes. She said—” Sally broke off again, and cast her eyes downward.

“What did she say, lass?” Erroll urged.

“She said she was under the weather and her future husband wanted her to stay at the party.” Sally jerked her head up, eyes wide. “She wanted to sneak out the back. I swear, my lord, I told her it was a bad idea, but she insisted.”