Except he was almost certainlynota chauffeur if he’d been sent here to question them.
Lydia stopped her a yard from the front door. “What could he want? What should we do?”
Beatrix bit her lip. “Let me handle it, I think. Excuse yourself at the first opportunity. If he’s here for reconnaissance, we don’t want to make it easy.”
“Right,” Lydia said, without even glancing at Rosemarie to gauge her opinion.
As they entered, the man got to his feet, smiling in an apologetic way. “Could you spare a few minutes, Miss Harper? MissBeatrixHarper, I mean.”
“A few, Wizard?—?”
“Garrett. Theo Garrett.”
Lydia murmured something about starting lunch and slipped away to the kitchen, Ella trailing behind. Miss Massey looked as if she wanted to stay, despite her protestations of strain, but followed in their wake after a moment of hovering.
Rosemarie did not leave. She sat in the rocking chair, smiling blandly—to all appearances the matronly chaperone. Beatrix frequently found herself at odds with her, but Rosemarie was exactly what the doctor ordered when you happened to be in a tight spot.
“More tea?” Beatrix glanced up as she poured herself a cup, taking in the tray of little sandwiches with dismay. How long had he been left on his own while Miss Massey was off in the kitchen?
“I’ve had plenty, thank you.” He set his cup down and focused the full force of his attention on her. A bit unnerving. “Miss Harper, why are you of all people working for Peter Blackwell?”
She tried to fashion a smile as bland as Rosemarie’s. “Wizards do not take no for an answer.”
He raised his eyebrows. They were a light copper—he’d clearly had unusual hair even before the rest of it turned silver.“Wizardsor Omnimancer Blackwell?”
“What if I’d said I didn’t have a few minutes for you, Wizard Garrett?”
His laugh was unexpected. The man had a sense of humor. “Then perhaps I should be asking why he wanted you to work for him.”
“He would be in a better position to answer that than I.” She took a sip of tea.
Wizard Garrett leaned forward and dropped his voice to a murmur. “May I be frank?”
“Please.”
“Blackwell worked in research and development for the Army before he quit in the middle of a sensitive project. We’re trying to determine why. Your country would appreciate any assistance you can offer.”
Yes, definitely not a chauffeur. She set her teacup down. “Was he a soldier?”
“No.”
“Then quitting would seem to be perfectly legal.”
He quirked his lips in a mischievous half-smile. “I’ve been charged with determining whether all is as it seems.”
“Is it wise to reveal this to your target’s assistant?”
“Unwilling assistant.”
“True,” she agreed. “I am. And what are you, Wizard Garrett?”
“A problem-solver. Perhaps I can solve your problem and mine in one fell swoop.”
He looked at her expectantly. She sighed.
“I dearly wish I wereableto tell you something of use, but I’m afraid I am not,” she said, hoping he would pick up on her true meaning. She cleared her throat, which was developing a coat of pomegranate residue.
“What does Blackwell have you assist with?”
