Page 18 of Beauty and the Thief

“I did not.”

“So the truth comes out,” her brother said with a laugh. Cal couldn’t help but smile.

“Mr. Slorach is exaggerating.” Miss Galloway crossed her arms with a huff.

“If you want to call this an exaggeration.” He lifted his arm to show where the back of his coat had been singed.

“It was a small fire and easily extinguished.”

“Extinguished by my sleeve.”

She blew out a breath and turned to Cal. “What about you, Mr. Kelly? How was your day?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours. I crawled on me belly through snow and mud while Mr. Fog, who is a certified lunatic, fired a pistol above me head.” That had been his morning. He didn’t mention his afternoon at the firing range.

Miss Vaughn actually looked up at him, her eyes shining with interest behind her spectacles. Miss Galloway tilted her head to study him. “You don’t look very dirty.”

“The wonders of modern plumbing.” He suspected the farmhouse had indoor plumbing as the ladies hadn’t remarked on the outdoor showers and the freezing cold water.

“How are your accommodations?” her brother asked. Cal had been wondering the same, but he hadn’t known how to ask a lady like her about her bedchamber. Not that it was Lucy Galloway’s accommodations he wanted to know about. He hadn’t forgotten the prim Miss Murray, though he hadn’t seen hide or hair of her since he’d arrived.

“Miss Vaughn and I share a room,” Miss Galloway said with a smile at the redhead who was looking at her soup again. “The house has two wings. Baron is in one, and Miss Vaughn, Miss Murray, and I are in the other.”

“Miss Murray shares your room?” Cal asked and immediately regretted the question. Slorach elbowed Galloway and gave Cal a knowing smile.

“She has her own room next to ours,” Miss Galloway answered. “I think she prefers her privacy.”

“But she was kind enough to extend an invitation to break our fast with her at the farmhouse,” Miss Vaughn said. It was a kind invitation as it meant the ladies didn’t have to traipse to the dining hall in the cold morning. Cal wondered how he could obtain an invitation. Not that he was complaining. This food was better than his usual fare by far.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Arundel said, “but I could sleep for a week. Ladies, if you will excuse me?” He rose and presumably made his way back to Building D. Cal was tired too but not quite ready to sleep. He had a feeling his day was far from over. Pistol wasn’t the sort to let a punch thrown by an Irishman go unpunished.

After a while Miss Vaughn and Miss Galloway retired and then Slorach followed. Cal and Galloway struck up a conversation with two agents from Building B. But just as Cal was inquiring as to whether Evasive Maneuvers was always so brutal, the door to the dining hall burst open and Miss Murray strode in, her eyes scanning the room. Cal held his breath, but she looked right past him.

“Mr. Stimple! Mr. Cummings! Baron needs you right away.”

Two men from another table rose and followed her out. When the door had closed again, Cal looked at the men at his table. “What was that about?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” said a man with a French accent whose name Cal couldn’t remember. “You learn not to ask questions.”

“I think I’ll go to bed meself,” Cal said, hopeful that Pistol had kept the issue at the firing range to himself. “Sure and we’re expected to wake at some indecent hour.”

“I won’t be far behind you,” Galloway said.

Cal rose and left the dining hall, pausing for a moment outside to get his bearings. He’d known London as well as the body of a lover, but this place was still foreign to him. Building A was to the east and D to the west. The farmhouse was to the north. He could see several windows on the ground floor were illuminated, and he wondered if Miss Murray was in one of them.

Best not to concern himself with her. She obviously had forgotten about him.

Cal turned and headed west but was only a few feet past the dining hall—between it and Building C—when a figure stepped out and tumbled into him. Cal caught the person by the shoulders. The shoulders were small and round, and he knew it was a woman. He looked down, and the light from the distant farmhouse was just enough for him to recognize Miss Murray.

“Release me, Mr. Kelly.”

She seemed stable enough, so he let her go, stepping back so she might pass. But he couldn’t resist one question. “What are you doing out in the cold, Miss Murray?”

“Looking for you.”

***

EVEN THOUGH SHE’D BEEN looking for him, Bridget’s heart still beat double-time when he’d headed her way. She’d stood in the shadows shivering as she waited for him, but then when she’d moved to quietly intercept him, her boot had caught on something and she’d all but fallen into him. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Bridget was glad for the dark because she had a duty to do and no time for girlish blushes.

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