“I think,” he said, looking at his watch, “that we should return to the castle soon. It’s nearly teatime in the nursery.”
I checked my own watch and yelped. I hadn’t realized how late it was. “Sorry, guys, but Damian’s right. I should be getting back. Will and Rob will want to tell me about their day.”
Cassie and Peter went to work clearing the cave mouth, Cassie collecting the maps and the field guides, Peter folding the groundsheet and tucking it into his pack. They worked well together, smoothly and efficiently, like dance partners who understood each other’s rhythms and could predict each other’s moves.They’d told their long, complicated story the same way—cooperatively rather than competitively. They were so clearly on the same wavelength, and so filled with admiration for each other, that I couldn’t help thinking that the despicable, truth-twisting tabloids had gotten at least one thing right. Something closely resembling love was in the air.
Peter lifted his day pack from the ground and and looked at me uncertainly.
“It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen Will and Rob,” he said. “I don’t suppose we could cadge an invitation to the castle, could we?” He frowned anxiously. “Or would it be too great a risk? The twins are sure to recognize me, and someone from the castle might spread the news to the rest of Erinskil.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about the rest of Erinskil,” said Damian. “I doubt that the islanders will alert the media when they discover your true identities. If you’re right about them, they’ll be even less willing than you to face a rabble of reporters. They’ll guard your privacy, if only to protect their own.”
“What about Sir Percy?” Cassie asked.
“Your secret will be safe with him,” I assured her. “He despises the gutter press, as do all right-thinking people. Come to the castle tonight, around six. You can spend time with Rob and Will and stay for dinner. But please, keep your suspicions to yourselves, will you? Sir Percy loves this place. He’ll think you’re either crazy or rude if you tell him he’s laird of a drug cartel.”
“We won’t say a word,” Peter promised.
“In that case,” I said, “Sir Percy will be delighted to meet you.”
“Good,” said Cassie with a decisive nod, “because I want to meet Sir Percy.”
“Why?” I asked.
Cassie closed her pack and stood. “My father owns a rather large estate, with a number of tenant farmers.They do nothing but grumble and whine—replace this, repair that, and do it now. It’s understandable—there’s almost always a streak of resentment between tenant and landlord—but I have yet to hear anyone on Erinskil say a word against their new laird. Sir Percy must be a remarkable man.”
“He’s one of a kind,” I said. “We’ll see you tonight, then?”
“Oh, yes,” said Peter, his face brightening. He reached out to lay a hand on my day pack. “If this is Cook’s idea of a picnic, I can’t wait to see how she defines dinner.”
Fourteen
Damian called Mrs. Gammidge as we made our way back to the castle, to let her know that two guests would be joining us for dinner. When I took the cell phone and informed her that our guests would be young and hungry, she replied loftily that Cook, who was accustomed to presiding over banquets, could safely be relied upon to provide adequate nourishment for two young people, however hearty their appetites.
Damian and I stopped in the Cornflower Suite long enough to wash the dust from our brows and change into clean clothes, then headed up to the nursery, where tea was already in progress. Andrew called down to the kitchen for extra cups and cakes, and Will and Rob entertained us while we waited.
Sir William and Lord Robert had spent an active day on the battlements with their valiant esquire, Andrew the Red, fending off everything from pirates to sea monsters. I was particularly impressed by their duel with the well-armed giant squid, but my stomach twisted painfully when they recounted their greatest triumph: capturing the Bad Man. Until that moment I hadn’t realized that Abaddon had invaded my sons’ imaginations.
“Lord Robert and I caught him,” Will said, “and Andrew the Red put him in the dungeon.”
“In chains,” Rob added firmly.
Before I could react, Damian’s cell phone rang. It was Bill, so I took the telephone into the foyer, to keep little ears from overhearing words that might darken their fantasies further.
Bill’s morale was at an all-time low. While he continued searching his client files for anyone who might fit Abaddon’s profile, Chief Superintendent Yarborough’s team of detectives had begun interviewing current as well as former clients. Bill believed that the interviews were necessary but suspected that they wouldn’t be especially good for business.
“Can you imagine the impression it will make?” he asked. “How would you react if a policeman knocked on your door and asked to speak with the family psychopath?”
“I’d introduce myself,” I said brightly, but my husband was in no mood for jokes.