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“It’s Angus. Something’s up at the supper tent.”
He increased his stride, and she had to scurry to keep up with him.
As they hurried toward the tent, Graeme suddenly fell in stride with his brother.
“Trouble,” Graeme said.
“Aye.”
Kathleen was amazed, as always, at how attuned they were to each other.
The supper tent was the largest on the lawn, and was set up behind the side terrace of the house. The dining room table, which had been moved inside it, was covered in starched linen and decorated with Kathleen’s floral centerpieces. A smaller table next to it held a large punch bowl and various other beverages. Hannah and Angus stood behind that smaller table, engaged in a quiet but fraught discussion.
“What’s amiss, Grandda?” Graeme asked.
“Trouble, ye ken,” Angus grimly replied.
“Obviously,” Grant said. “What sort of trouble?”
Hannah, a slender girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in a neat gray dress with a starched apron, pulled an unhappy face.
“It’s the children’s punch, sir.” She pointed to the large crystal bowl. “It ain’t right.”
“Ye were to be keepin’ an eye on the beverages, lass,” Angus said with disapproval.
“I did keep an eye afteryemixed the punch and left it out in the kitchen,” Hannah retorted. “Once the kitchen maid told me it was ready, one of the lads and me brought it straight out.”
“We can apportion blame later if necessary,” Graeme said. “What’s wrong with the damn stuff?”
“Ye ken it’s my secret punch recipe,” Angus explained. “So after it’s settled a wee bit, I test it to see if it needs more sugar.”
“And?” Grant impatiently put in.
“Somebody’s spiked it,” Hannah said.
The twins exchanged a startled glance.
“With whisky?” Graeme asked with disbelief.
“Well, nae with sugar, ye jinglebrain,” Angus tartly replied.
Grant stepped forward and dipped a cup into the strawberry-colored beverage. He took a sip, and then grimaced. “Aye, it’s whisky, and sufficient to harm a child if he drank enough. The punch covers most of the taste, so a little one might not catch it.”
“My God.” Kathleen pressed a hand to her suddenly roiling stomach. “Who would do such a thing?”
Graeme cursed. “I think we know the answer to that.”
“And given the circumstances,” Grant grimly added, “I’d say we have a spy in our midst, as well.”
“Aye,” said Angus, “and a right nasty bugger he is.”
Chapter Eighteen
It wasn’t difficult to spot Grant, since he towered over most everyone in the ballroom. Although he appeared to be lounging against the doorframe, he was on the lookout for trouble.
The entire household had been on the lookout after the afternoon incident with the punch. Fortunately, the rest of the day had gone as planned, and the villagers had enjoyed a generous picnic supper before returning home to prepare for tonight’s party.
They’d debated canceling the evening’s festivities, of course. Graeme and Sabrina, along with Kathleen, Grant, and Angus, had thrashed it out in a tense session in the kitchen garden during the picnic, before finally concluding that the ball should proceed. Canceling it would have caused upset and even panic amongst the villagers. Graeme was growing increasingly concerned that the locals might take matters into their own hands, with possibly unfortunate results.
