Page 25 of A Scoundrel in the Making

When they reached the empty great hall, he whispered, “Lord Chaluim may not be the dolt he appears to be.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You noticed that, as well?”

Abigail glanced at the fire burning in the large hearth at the far end of the room. The fire in her room had likely been kept burning by the servants. She would love to curl up on the warm bed. Would Lord Reade go directly to his chambers, or had he plans with Lady Julia?

“Does everyone in your world of espionage wear a mask?” he asked.

“More than you might think.”

“How do you know who your friends are?”

His arm muscle flexed beneath her fingers. “As a spy, one has very few friends, sometimes none, especially if you’re far from home.”

“Hmm,” he intoned. “Do you think they were talking about the Honors?”

“It certainly is possible.” She glanced about the great hall. “Perhaps they just came from the treasure room below.”

“Should we wait to take a look around?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We did quite well there in the hallway when we encountered Lord Chaluim. They didn’t doubt they’d caught two lovers together.” The memory sent a tremor rippling through her stomach. “Did you know his companion?” she asked, thankful she managed an even voice.

“Nae. I don’t even recall seeing him at dinner.”

“Neither did I.”

They reached the small hallway leading to the kitchen and slowed. Silence reigned up ahead. They entered the kitchen. The waning fire in the hearth cast a halo of light across the floor to the high table that dominated the middle of the room. Abigail caught sight of the arched doorway on the opposite side of the room. Lord Reade cupped her elbow. They crossed the room and passed through the doorway into the scullery.

Lord Reade nodded at a door up ahead on the left. “Perhaps there?”

She nodded, hurried to the door and pulled it open. Stairs descended into darkness