told me all that she can—all her mind will allow—for the time being,” Inspector Turner said.
And what exactly did that mean? Ally wondered.
“It’s amazing,” Inspector Turner said, shaking his head sadly. “At least, Miss Grayson, you do not sound addled, as do some of the ladies who have been stopped by the highwayman. One would almost think they found the loss of a diamond trinket or the like to be well worth the price of an encounter with the man.”
“What?” Camille exclaimed, astonished.
Inspector Turner shrugged. “They tell me he is polite and charming as he robs them.”
“Ally is no silly child to have her head turned by such a brigand, no matter how courteous,” Camille said.
“Of course,” the inspector agreed. “Well, I thank you for your assistance. And I beg you, please, enjoy your soiree.”
“Inspector, you are most welcome to join us,” Camille said.
“Duty calls, Lady Stirling, but I thank you. I have already partaken of your hospitality. Your cook has seen to it that I’ve had the best meal I’ve enjoyed in…ah, well, maybe forever. I will bid you good evening.”
“I thank you for coming, Inspector,” Camille said.
“Yes, thank you,” Ally murmured.
Camille had her arm. Ally smiled uneasily at the inspector as Camille led her from the kitchen. In the hallway to the foyer, Camille shook her head, saying, “All this, on such a night.”
“Camille, please, why is tonight such an occasion?” Ally implored.
Camille opened her mouth to answer, but Brian had disengaged himself from a portly gentleman to come toward them. “Camille, my dear, I need you for a moment. Ally, come along and meet Lord Wittburg.”
Ally didn’t make it across the great hall. There was a mischievous tap on her shoulder, and she spun around.
It was Hunter MacDonald, another of her self-proclaimed guardians. She loved Hunter dearly. He was, in his way, a total rogue—or had been until he had fallen head over heels in love with his wife, Kat. They were a reckless couple, daring and a bit outrageous, ever ready to head out on an adventure.
“My dear, look at you!” Hunter exclaimed, eyes brilliant and teasing. “All grown up. Why, you will leave a horde of swains languishing wherever you walk.”
“That’s quite kind, Sir Hunter,” she said. “But I’ve been all grown up for some time, you all have simply not noticed.”
“I’m wounded.”
She laughed. “I’m so glad you’re here. I had thought you might be off on another adventure in Egypt.”
“Ally, Ally, has all my teaching been in vain? Way too hot in Egypt at the moment. Perhaps you can join us this year. It may be your one chance.”
“My one chance?” she inquired.
But he didn’t answer her. Kat had swept past him to give Ally a fierce hug. “Incredible,” she said with delight. “I must paint you in this gown.”
“Indeed, what a lovely picture,” Hunter agreed.
“Perhaps my father should have the honor,” Kat said.
“Your father is a great artist, but never doubt that his talent lies in you, as well, my love,” Hunter told her.
Ally felt a flash of longing, watching them. She felt a sudden deep craving to know the kind of love they shared. To know someone who would look at her as Hunter looked at Kat.
“Ally,” Kat said, drawing back, “whether you are captured in oil by me or my father, it must be done.”
“Thank you.” And then, before either of them could bring up some other subject, she asked, “Just what is going on tonight?”
Once again, her hopes for an answer were dashed.
“There she is!” cried a voice.
They were joined in a moment by Lady Lavinia Rogers. The widow of the earl who had owned half the lands in the northeast corner of the country, Lavinia was allowed to be bold and curious and quite outspoken. “Did you hear?” she demanded, after pecking cheeks all around with little kisses. “Our Ally was attacked by the highwayman.”
Ally could have groaned aloud.
“Good God!” Hunter said angrily, looking ready to stalk out of the house that very moment and comb heaven and earth to find the culprit.
“I wasn’t attacked,” Ally protested.
“Not attacked?” Kat said.
“He waylaid the carriage, and that is all. I am fine.”
“Ah, that I believe,” Lady Lavinia said. She was short, a bit stout and possessed bright blue eyes and hair that seemed to be a true silver. She was clad in a mauve ball gown and adorned with jewels. Some might have said that her couture was too much, but Ally thought that being a bit over-jeweled was perfect for the woman.
Lavinia, she knew, couldn’t care less what was said about her. She knew who she was. She loved people and life, and she let it be known.
“I was quite taken by the rogue, too,” Lavinia announced with a wink.
“You were waylaid by this man, as well?” Hunter demanded, frowning fiercely.
“I was. But here’s the thing. The police are after him, but I don’t believe they should be seeking him at all. They need to find the horrendous fellow who is going about murdering people. There has been a third murder. You do know that, don’t you?”
Hunter and Kat nodded grimly. Ally frowned. “A third murder?”
“Giles Brandon. His throat was slit. The police have nothing. Nothing. Or so I’ve heard,” Lavinia said.
“Lavinia, please. Give them a chance,” Hunter said.
Lavinia sniffed. “Give them a chance? By the time they have hunted down this murderer, the country will have collapsed. You do know who Giles Brandon was, don’t you, my dear?” she asked Ally.
“Yes, of course. I’ve read his columns. They are quite incendiary,” Ally said.
Lavinia nodded gravely. “I find it quite amazing that we—those who support dear Queen Victoria and her family—must always be so noble, despite the way we are baited. He was found with his last article clutched in his bloody fingers. That article will run in tomorrow’s paper—along with the news of his murder. The anti-monarchists are in a howl as it is, can you imagine the damage that will come by tomorrow?”
“Ally!”
This time, her name was being called by Lady Maggie, who was threading her way through the crowd, graciously nodding to those she passed, with Lord Jamie behind her.
Maggie,
