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“Thus far we are. What should we do next?”
James came out into the middle of the room, and his sisters peeked out from behind their chairs. “I think we must have a goal. And I suggest the pastry chef’s kitchen.”
Lady Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “Of course you would want more sweets. But the pastry kitchen is on the ground floor, and we would have to go through the main kitchen to get there. And past all the servants.”
“We could send one person to gather the pastries,” Fiona said, surprising Isleen. “After the rest of us get as close as we can.”
The idea seemed to please Simon, given the large grin that appeared on his too-handsome face. “An excellent suggestion, Miss Fiona.”
Perhaps it was the children who had wrought this change in him. Or at least brought this aspect of his character to the surface. He had entirely devoted himself to their amusement. And Isleen rather liked it.
“If we are going to the kitchen, the fastest way without getting caught would be down to the Earl’s Landing, below the gallery, across the Carriage Corridor, and down the ballroom stairs. No one uses those stairs most of the time.”
“The Carriage Corridor is right above and open to the Guard Room,” Isabelle argued. “We would have to keep quite low to the ground and not make a sound, or the guards would hear.”
“Dear me. I had no idea the lot of you were this talented at sneaking about.” Isleen grinned when they turned to look at her, then waved them back to the conversation. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to distract. Do carry on.”
“But the Earl’s Gallery stairs are so long,” James added. “It will take forever to get down them without being seen.”
A bolt of inspiration struck Isleen, and she could not help the wicked smile that overcame her face. Indeed, she narrowed her eyes and focused on Simon as she said, “Not if we use the banister.”
He tipped his head back. “The banister, Miss Frost?”
“The banister, Lord Farleigh.” She came around the side of the couch and grinned at the young ladies. “We can manage a quick slip down a well-polished stair rail, can we not?”
Lady Isabelle appeared doubtful, but Fiona and Rosalind nodded at once.
“It will be frightfully unladylike. And what if someone below should see?” Lady Isabelle shifted from foot to foot and looked down at her clothing. “I do not think I am dressed for it.”
“If I go first, will you try?” Isleen asked. “I know a trick to it for skirts, and we can make your brothers turn their backs at the top of the stairs while we go down.”
“Miss Frost.” Simon’s voice sounded somewhat strangled. “I am not certain this is a good idea.”
“Nonsense. I can manage. Can you not?” She whirled around to face him and let the challenge hang between them, her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed over her chest. “Surely, you aren’t concerned about being caught.”
He glowered at her, but there was no real ill feeling in his eyes. Only surprise. “Is this one of your challenges?”
“Should it be?”
Lord James sighed. “Either way, we need to get moving. Secret expeditions are no fun if you stay in one place too long.”
“Come on, Isleen.” Fiona took hold of her sister’s hand. “We can show them how it’s done.”
Isleen grinned at Simon, and off she flounced with her sister to the Earl’s Gallery. So-called because portraits of the Earls of Montfort (before the king bestowed the title of duke to the first of their ancestors, she’d learned on her tour) lined the corridor which opened to the floor below, accessible by a long, wide staircase.
Once Simon and James had turned their backs to the stairs, Isleen made quick work of showing the girls how to slide down the rail while wearing long skirts. She hadn’t done it herself in ages. Years and years, in fact. But she wasn’t about to let that stop her from having a little fun.
“You sit sideways,” she told them. “As you would on a horse. Or, you gird up your loins.” She winked as she gathered her skirt from behind, pulling it up between her legs in the front, making the fabric rise until her knees were uncovered. “To straddle the rail for safety.”
Simon made a sound of distress but did not turn around. “If anyone witnesses you with your ‘loins girded,’ we will all catch a share of trouble.”
“Pish.” Isleen went to the rail. “Alternatively, you can merely bend over so it is your waist upon the rail. But I don’t recommend that.” She looked below, to ensure no one was about. And she tried very hard not to notice how high above the ground she stood. Then she sat sideways and leaned toward the rail, riding side-saddle, a hand on either side of it. “I will be lookout once I reach the bottom,” she said, and down the banister she went.
The well-polished wood surprised her, and her speed was more than she bargained for. Woosh, she went, right down the steps. And thankful she was, too, that the rail was wide enough for her to keep well-balanced. When she hit the floor below, her feet nearly went out from under her, but she stumbled a few steps and righted herself.
“Bless me,” she muttered, her mother’s favorite expression of surprise. She’d much rather have used the more colorful terms her brother at times indulged in, but one could only manage so much unladylike behavior at a time.
Isleen peered about and down the hall, and even over the rail to the guardroom. One of the servants looked up at her, a large man she’d heard the duke callSterling. She smiled cheerfully at him, and he went back to staring ahead blankly.
