Leaving Kenneth to shut the door and stand, completely alone, in the entrance hall of the man’s home.
Huh.
He peered about, wondering if therewasa butler, and if the man would be appearing any time soon. When he didn’t, Kenneth pulled his hat from his head and hung it on a stand by the door, beside several others.
Still no one appeared.
What had the baron said? That Barbara’s library was on the upper level? Well, the stairway should be backhere…
He inched his way down the corridor, rehearsing an explanation in case a footman jumped out and threatened him with a polishing cloth for trespassing. It definitely wasn’t Kenneth’s first time infiltrating a nearly empty home…but it was the first time he’d done it at the invitation of the homeowner.
Even if the man seemed to have forgotten that particular conversation.
Reaching the stairwell without incident, he placed his hand on the banister and lifted his right foot—only to be stopped by a quiet voice.
“Where do you think you’re going, mister?”
Kenneth’s instincts kicked in. He crouched as he threw himself sideways, reaching for the hidden blade in the small of his back as he whirled about?—
To see a boy. Holding a slingshot. Glaring at him.
The lad couldn’t even be twelve, and his wild mop of hair looked a lot like the Baron’s.
So this was the youngest, the heir, eh?
Slowly Kenneth straightened, forcing his fingers to unclench from the hilt of his knife. The lad’s aim didn’t waver—the middle of Kenneth’s forehead—and his expression remained serious.
Not the first time he’d had a loaded weapon pointed at his face. Itwas, however, the first time his attacker was a lad whose bollocks hadn’t yet dropped.
“Hallo.” Being charming meant charmingeveryone, so Kenneth tried a nonthreatening smile while frantically scrambling for the speech he’d practiced…before deciding it wouldn’t work on a boy. “I’m Kenneth. Who are ye?”
The lad stepped forward, the slingshot still at full extension and his arms showing no signs of weakness. “You look like a spy. Are you a spy?”
Kenneth reared back, unable to hide his shock and alarm.Keep it together, man!“I’m Sir Kenneth Fraser—I met yer sister at the ball last night, and she invited me to tour her Egyptian collection. Yer father just let me in.”
The lad stepped closer, his mouth pulled into a mulish frown and his slingshot stretched threateningly. “Are. You. A. Spy?”
Shite shite fook shite damn.
Not the first time his cover had been blown, either. Kenneth knew at least nine ways to kill an assailant in this positionwith only what he had on him…but could do fook-all when the assailant in question was the young son of his host.
That wouldn’t exactly be the traditional first step of seduction.
Instead, he tried lying. Plastering a smile—hopefully a confident, easy-going smile that didn’t reveal how shaken he was—Kenneth asked brightly, “No, what makes ye say that?”
“He is usually right.” The new voice startled Kenneth and had him jerking sideways again in time to see the lassie step out of the shadows. “Albert always is.”
Albert must have been the lad, but Kenneth’s mind was frantically trying to make sense of the girl’s arrival. She was older, but not as mature as Barbara. Her blonde hair was pulled up indicating she was entering adulthood, but her figure and the curiosity in her expression seemed more childlike. A lassie on the cusp of womanhood, therefore, and one he was most definitely not going to flirt with.
Especially considering she only looked mildly interested in him as she stepped up beside her brother. Neither of them appeared open to Kenneth’s charm.
Still, he tried another smile. “Albert, was it? And who are ye, lassie?”
Her lips tugged downward. “I’m Annabelle.”
Och, aye, the younger daughter whom the Baron calledBella“Annabelle and Albert.” He bowed gracefully, then tried to inject some lightness into the conversation. “Ye…ye both have the same initials.”
“Yes,” Annabelle agreed with a grave nod. “We are both A.F.”
