To Beguile a Beast (Legend of the Four Soldiers #3)(38)

“Oh, but you’ll be there to observe,” he said, taking her arm. “Have you forgotten our bargain to dine together? You were quite adamant about my part last night.”

“But your sister!” Her cheeks flamed. “She’ll think that… that… you know.”

“What she’ll think is that I’m eccentric, and that she already knows.” He watched her sardonically. “Come, Mrs. Halifax, this is no time for missish nerves. Where are your children?”

She looked, if possible, even more scandalized. “In the kitchen, but you can’t—”

He beckoned to one of the maids. “Fetch Mrs. Halifax’s children, please.”

The maid hurried off. He arched an eyebrow down at his housekeeper. “There. You see. Quite simple.”

“Only if one disregards all propriety,” she muttered darkly.

“There you are, brother,” Sophia’s brisk voice came from behind them.

Alistair turned and bowed to his sister. “As you see.”

She finished descending the stairs. “Wasn’t sure you’d come down for dinner. And quite neat, too. I suppose I should be honored. But then”—she eyed Mrs. Halifax’s hand on his arm—“perhaps your pretty toilet wasn’t for me.”

Mrs. Halifax tried to withdraw her hand, but Alistair placed his firmly over hers, preventing her. “Your favor is always uppermost in my mind, Sophia.”

She snorted at that.

“Sophie,” Phoebe chided from behind her. She shot an apologetic look at him. Poor Phoebe McDonald was always smoothing things over in his sister’s wake.

Alistair was just opening his mouth to point out just that—perhaps unwisely—when Jamie came rushing around the corner, nearly cannoning into Sophia.

“Jamie!” Mrs. Halifax cried.

The boy skidded to a stop and stared at Sophia.

Behind him came his sister, more sedate as always. “Meg said we were to come to dinner.”

Sophia looked down her long nose at the girl. “Who are you?”

“I’m Abigail, ma’am,” she said, curtsying. “This is my brother, Jamie. I apologize for him.”

Sophia arched an eyebrow. “I’ll wager you do that quite a lot.”

Abigail sighed, sounding world-weary. “Yes, I do.”

“Good girl.” Sophia almost smiled. “Younger brothers can be a chore sometimes, but one must persevere.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abigail said solemnly.

“Come on, Jamie,” Alistair said. “Let’s go into dinner before they form a Society for Bossy Older Sisters.”

Jamie headed into the dining room with alacrity. Alistair took his habitual seat at the head of the table, seating Sophia to his right as was proper, but ensuring that Mrs. Halifax was to his left. He pulled out her chair for her pointedly when she tried to make a break for it and hide at the other end of the table.

“Thank you,” she muttered rather ungraciously as she sat.

“You’re quite welcome,” he murmured gently as he pushed the chair in overly hard.

Sophia was busy instructing Abigail on the proper placement of her water glass and so missed their byplay, but Phoebe watched them curiously from the other side of Mrs. Halifax. Damn. He’d forgotten how observant the little woman was. He nodded at her and received a wink in reply.

“So you’ve begun writing again,” Sophia said as Tom brought in a tureen of clear soup with a maid to serve it.

“Yes,” Alistair replied cautiously.

“And this is the same work?” she demanded. “The one about the various birds and animals and insects in Britain?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Good. I’m glad to hear it.” She waved away the basket of bread Abigail was attempting to pass her. “No, thank you. I never eat yeasted breads after luncheon. I hope,” she continued, turning on him again, “that you’ll do a proper job of it. Richards made a hash of it with his Zoölogia a few years back. Tried to show that chickens were related to lizards, the idiot. Ha!”

Alistair leaned back to let the maid set a bowl of soup before him. “Richards is a pedantic ass, but his comparison of chickens and lizards was quite reasonable in my opinion.”

“I suppose you think badgers are related to bears as well?” Sophia’s spectacles glinted dangerously.

“As a matter of fact, the claws of both have a striking resemblance—”

“Ha!”

“And,” he continued unperturbed, as they had, after all, been arguing like this since childhood, “when I dissected a badger carcass last autumn, I found similarities in the bones of the skull and forearms as well.”

“What’s a carcass?” Jamie asked before Sophia could set into him.

“A dead body,” Alistair explained. Beside him, Mrs. Halifax choked. He turned and solicitously thumped her on the back.

“I’m quite fine,” she gasped. “But might we change the subject?”

“Certainly,” he said kindly. “Perhaps we ought to discuss dung instead.”

“Oh, Lord,” Mrs. Halifax muttered beside him.

He ignored her, turning to his sister. “You won’t believe what I found in the dung of a badger the other day.”