“Astley is thanking you, not God.”
“He should be blaming me.”
Iseabail set the tray down on the wash basin and poured a cup of tea before adding a spoonful of honey to it. The spoon clinked against the porcelain as she stirred the honey into the tea before handing it to Caillen.
“Thank you,” Caillen whispered as she sipped the warm, sweet brew that instantly soothed her dry throat.
“Why should Astley blame you? Did you throw the lantern that set the curtains on fire?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why are you to blame?” Iseabail asked, her red hair gleaming in the firelight as she lowered herself down onto a soft floral pink chair, one protective hand covering her pregnant belly.
Caillen took another sip of tea before responding. “I startled the thief who ignited the curtains as a distraction.”
“A distraction for what purpose?”
. “To escape.” Or destroy evidence leading to their father’s killer.
“And what was his reasoning for assaulting you and Robina?”
Color leached from her face. “Robina was assaulted?”
“She was. She saw the man running from the house and tackled him.”
“She what?” A cough racked her lungs, stealing her breath for a moment before she continued. “She wasn’t even supposed to be there!”
“Yes. That is a topic for another day.”
“Was she injured?”
“Other than a black eye and a bloody nose, she appears to be fine. Astley says she saved your life while ‘his worthless servants worried about saving his damned study.’ His words, not mine,” she mused. Iseabail’s mockery of her husband’s best friend was always welcome.
“Was she the one to throw water on me?”
Iseabail chuckled, but there was little mirth in her laugh. “No, after losing the suspect she returned to see the fire. She went in to help and saw your gown on fire. She chose to tackle you to the floor. She said she was scared you would start running and no one would catch you before you were an inferno.”
“I wouldn’t have run.” She was too busy fighting her sister. God, she must be insane to think her sister was a man attempting to hurt her.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” Not really, but Iseabail didn’t need to know that. She stirred her tea before asking, “Was Robbi seriously hurt?”
“Do you mean did she receive any burns?” When Caillen nodded, Iseabail shook her head. “You were both lucky on that accord. Just a few minor burns on the back of your legs. Robbi’s britches suffered the most damage.”
“She was wearing britches?”
“That’s what she always wears when she sneaks out of the house at night. It seems her boyish nickname fits.”
“But she was wearing a gown when she left for home.”
“Chances are you’ll find her dress in the bushes at Astley House. She wears trousers underneath on most days.”
She took another sip of her tea; the honey was having a remarkable effect on her throat. “I imagine Ross was fit to be tied.”
“If she hadn’t been injured as she was, he would still be lecturing her.”
“He’s hardly her father.” That was the absolute wrong thing to say.
