Duncan opened the front door and bowed solemnly to the young ladies in costume. “Good afternoon, sirs. Welcome to Gostley Castle.”
“Excellent. And then he’ll show them into the—” Izzy turned to Ransom, who stood beside her in the upstairs room. “You’re sure you prefer the great hall? We do have the salon now. It’s a more manageable size.”
He shook his head. “It has to be the great hall. I know how the space works, how the echoes sound.”
“Then the great hall it is.” She turned and called from the window again. “Duncan will show them into the great hall.”
Duncan faced the “Inquisitioners” and tilted his head in invitation. “If the gentlemen would be so good as to follow me.”
The tittering young women followed him inside.
Izzy stepped away from the window. “This is where we wait. Once Duncan has them settled in the great hall, he’ll send one of the handmaidens up to knock.”
They lapsed into silence, just waiting. Izzy studied her shoes. She had new ones for tomorrow, but for today her old nankeen half boots would have to do.
Ransom, of course, only looked more magnificent with each passing day. Duncan had dedicated many tireless hours to the task of brushing, laundering, pressing, and polishing every item of attire in the duke’s wardrobe, and it showed.
His hair was still a touch overgrown, but she couldn’t bring herself to suggest a trim. He wore that fall of golden brown hair like a shield over his wounded brow. She worried he would feel vulnerable without it.
“Don’t be anxious about anything,” she said. “We’ve planned every moment, made alternatives for any eventuality. And if all else goes wrong, there’s a last resort. Plan E.”
“Plan E? What’s Plan E?”
“Snowdrop. If there’s an unforeseen problem, one of the handmaidens will release the ermine into the room. It will be a diversion, at least.”
His lips quirked to one side in that now-familiar manner.
She still didn’t quite know how to read the expression, but she was coming to think of it as a smile.
A knock came at the door.
“Right,” she said. “That’s our cue.”
She threaded her arm in his, and together they walked into the corridor and began heading downstairs to the great hall.
“I remember everything you told me,” she said. “Blaylock has ginger hair and spectacles. Riggett is the portly one, with narrow-set eyes. When we enter the hall, I’ll find them, and I’ll tap out their position on your arm. The first count will be Blaylock. The second, Riggett. As for the newcomers, we’ll have to rely on introductions. Duncan, should you need him, will always be just to the left of the entrance. Once you introduce me, I can take ov—”
He stopped in his paces. “Izzy.”
“Yes? Did I forget something?”
“This.” He bent his head and kissed her. Just a warm, lingering press of his lips against hers. “You seemed to need that.”
She exhaled. “I think I did. Thank you.”
All her drifting, scattered thoughts coalesced. His kiss was her anchor in the storm. So long as they could come away from this trial together, that was all that mattered.
When they entered the great hall, Izzy used their agreed-on system to point out the handmaidens designated as Blaylock and Riggett. Ransom acknowledged them with the slightest of nods in their general direction.
This was where his social rank worked in his favor. Ransom needn’t bow to anyone. He certainly didn’t shake hands. He needn’t offer to serve his guests drinks. Unless his vision was particularly gray, he could distinguish a person well enough to focus on him when speaking. For a duke, that was enough.
They walked to the grouping of freshly reupholstered furnishings near the hearth. Once again, Izzy used slight pressure against his arm to direct him toward an unoccupied chair.
Everyone was seated with a minimum of awkwardness.