Page 36 of Whiskers and Wiles

The man in black shook his head. “You are expected.”

He spoke in such a way that if Waldorf had been a lesser man, his bowels would have turned to jelly.

Kat nodded, then reached for the doorhandle. Waldorf suddenly wished he’d gone first so that he could make the gesture for her and prepare her for whatever was on the other side of the door.

Then again, Kat likely would not have appreciated him shielding her from something, and would have complained that just because she was a woman, it did not mean she was incapable of facing the executioner’s block.

That last, small thought had Waldorf’s mouth twitching with the shadow of a grin. Kat was indomitable when she wanted to be.

His fledgling smile vanished when Kat sucked in a breath, then pushed the door open.

The room at the top of the stairs was not at all what Waldorf expected. He’d expected some sort of medieval torture chamber, complete with flickering torches, instruments of pain, and a hooded executioner wielding an ax.

What he and Kat found was a well-appointed sitting room. It was, perhaps, decorated in an antique style, with tapestries hanging on the walls and a huge fireplace at the far end with a thick beam for a mantel. The chairs in the room were of a wide,medieval style as well, but the carpet covering the floor looked far more modern and as if it had been purchased from the orient. The screens that decorated the corners of the rooms appeared eastern in design as well, and the small table that sat off to one side was set with a delicate, porcelain tea service.

The jumble of styles and eras represented around him had Waldorf feeling off-balance and confused. Adding to the confusion was the fact that the room was empty of other human inhabitants. He was not certain he knew what to do with himself or what was expected of him.

“Wait here,” the man in black said once Waldorf and Kat had made their way to the center of the room.

Waldorf glanced back over his shoulder in time to see the man disappear through the door to the stairwell, shutting it behind him. The door made a thumping sound as it closed that was so final it sent a chill straight to Waldorf’s bones.

Once again, he and Kat were alone.

They’d both glanced over their shoulders as the man in black left, and as they turned to face forward once more, they met each other’s eyes.

As desperately as Waldorf wanted to say something, he hadn’t the first idea what to say. Comforting Kat seemed wrong. Not only would she not appreciate the gesture, he did not feel particularly comforted himself. Chastising her felt wrong, too. He was in as much of a stew as she was, and it did not take much for him to imagine why. Kat was the worse transgressor between the two of them, but he had not exactly behaved perfectly where she was concerned since arriving in London either.

“What should we?—”

Kat’s whispered question was cut off by the sound of another door shutting behind one of the screens. Waldorf should have known they were there to conceal other passages, or perhaps other people.

He did not have time to dwell on that, however. Moments after the sound of the door, none other than Queen Matilda of Mercia stepped out from behind the curtain, dressed in regal splendor, as if she had been attending the ball below.

Kat gasped in surprise. “Your Majesty,” she said, dropping into a deep curtsy and bowing her head, in contrition as well as respect.

Matilda was not Waldorf’s queen, but he thought it wise to follow Kat’s lead and to bow to her as if she was. That proved to be the correct choice.

“Give me one good reason why I should not toss the both of you out that window into the mews, breaking your necks,” the queen said, her voice sharp and commanding.

Kat sucked in another, short breath and rose. “Your Majesty, I am terribly, terribly sorry. You have no idea how much so. I behaved foolishly this evening based on the?—”

“Foolishly?” the queen cut Kat off, as if ‘foolishly’ was not a strong enough word. “You believe you behavedfoolishly?”

“I was blinded by my own prejudices, Your Majesty,” Kat said, her voice shaking. “I had received a note?—”

“Your assignment for the evening was to introduce the wives of recalcitrant ministers to Lady Ryman so that she might direct them to the appropriate parties who would be able to sway their opinions,” the queen said.

Waldorf’s brow rose a bit. So that was Kat’s mission for the night? To make connections between people?

“And you.”

It took Waldorf a moment to realize that the queen was addressing him in her pointed, scolding tone. When he glanced to her to find her glaring at him, his knees felt decidedly wobbly.

“Your mission was to convince Lord MacLeod and the others in the gaming room to support the Mercian Plan, not to cross swords with this one,” the queen went on.

“Your Majesty,” Waldorf began with a bow, “I can assure you that?—”

He stopped, his mouth hanging open. Queen Matilda knew of his mission for the evening. In fact, the way she spoke made it seem as though she herself was the one who had given the order.

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