My Lady of Danger by Summer Hanford

Author:Summer Hanford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 2018-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Alasdair strode through the keep toward the baron’s office. He’d deposited a still unconscious Fiona in her room, under Miss Sollier’s kind but suspicion-laden attentions. He could only hope Fiona woke soon, and had the presence of mind to keep to her role as a maid when she did. As he walked, the boots he’d pulled on pounded a sure rhythm on the floor. The servants who saw him gaped. One maid even scurried away.

Alasdair supposed he was rather a sight in his clinging breeches and shirt, his boots the only dry article of clothing he wore, but this was not the time for niceties. Whoever the spy was, they were no longer content to remain in the shadows. Fiona had been attacked. Miss Sollier could be next. It was all he could do to leave her side to speak with her father, but she was surrounded by servants as she tended Fiona, and the doctor would appear at any moment. He doubted the spy would attack in a crowded room.

He reached the thick oak door and stopped. Alasdair hadn’t met with the former Dagger alone yet. An odd reluctance twinged within him.

His eyes traced the ornate carvings adorning the door. Woven into the decorative flower and vine pattern were ancient Gaelic symbols for strength, loyalty and honor. Inside, he could hear the steady cadence of a male voice, not the baron’s, and not loud enough to decipher through the door. Alasdair knocked. The monologue broke off.

“Come.” The baron’s hard voice was barely muted by the thick wood.

Alasdair pushed the door open. The windowless room showed no evidence of a second exit. A footman stood before a massive desk, posture rigid. He held a large volume, hand flattening over the page as he turned.

As Alasdair strode in and bowed, he took in the intricately detailed paneling, two heavy couches and a hard-backed chair for guests. A fire burned in the ornamental hearth. The room was almost stuffy.

Alasdair didn’t locate it at first glance, but he sensed a second doorway in the room. The knowledge of it tingled along his spine. He was sure, as he straightened before the baron’s desk, that doorway was behind him.

“That will be all,” Baron Sollier said to the footman.

The man marked his place, bowed, and hurried from the room. He didn’t leave the book, or offer a glimpse of title or content. Well trained, then, and not simply as a footman. Odd, for a retired spy to keep such professional staff. When the door closed behind the servant, Alasdair came to attention, as he would before the desk of any superior officer.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Lord Alasdair?” the baron asked.

Alasdair wasn’t surprised Baron Sollier knew his name. His subterfuge hadn’t been for the benefit of the former Dagger. Alasdair’s use of the name Winston to gain entrance to the keep had assured the baron would know he was an operative, at the least.

“Your maid, Fiona, was attacked today, my lord.”

“The one who fancies herself a spy someday?” The baron snorted.

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