“Yes.” There was a wobble to her voice. “Grievously injured, he was shot by that intruder. The attacker wore a mask, to hide himself.” She motioned with her hand back towards the closed door, where there was the soft but persistent noise of pleasure trickling out. “So, he must have been one of your guests. They too were wearing masks.”
Langley thought about the duke next door. In his limited acquaintance, Ashmore was one of the least likely to be shot. The man was a bookish bachelor, with a taste in antiques and a limited interest in parties. He had no mistress, no wife… no children. Although there were some old rumours about howlibertine the Ashmore dukedom was. Langley’s eyes narrowed on the girl before him.
“I am his goddaughter,” she said as if she had worked out where his mind was going.
“I see,” Langley said. He moved over to the bell. “I suspect your intruder has left my house, as the front door is only at the end of the corridor. But I will ask my servants to search my home just in case.”
“This place is yours?” she asked. A furrow appeared between her dark brows.
“I am Langley,” he replied. Even in the silvery moonlight he saw her reaction clearly enough. Normally his reputation stirred an emotion even in people that Langley had never formally met. It was evident that his Amazon had heard of him, and everything amoral that went along with him. But to his annoyance, she did not volunteer her own name.
Reaching out, Langley shook the bell. It echoed through the house, and from below he heard the start of movement beneath their feet. “I would recommend you return to your godfather’s home.”
“I…” For a brief moment, his Amazon looked confused, her face creasing, the emotions evidently pushing and pulling her in two different directions. “That is the front door?”
“I can escort you if you wish?”
His Amazon immediately shook her head, rejecting what Langley thought was a generous offer, given she had entirely ruined his party.
“That won’t be necessary,” she pertly replied, but hesitated when she reached the doorway.
He followed slowly in her wake. “It will not take you to another orgy, I promise you.”
“Humour at this time is not appropriate.”
“And if I do locate your intruder within my home, who should I ask for?”
“Why, the authorities of course.”
“No, I meant which person—” He indicated her. “—should I say is accusing this man?”
She had paused, as if this was not a consideration she had previously thought of. Annoyance flashed over her face. “I am Miss Keating.”
To him the name spoke of naivety, and when she said it, there seemed a slight accent to her surname that hinted at the countryside. Miss Keating though, had already grasped the handle to the front door, and was yanking it open.
“I look forward, my lord, to hearing a list of your guests’ names, and with that, I hope we will be able to identify the assailant if you cannot find the man in the upper floors.”
Of all the naive statements Miss Keating could have uttered, this had to be the silliest. Langley found himself already shaking his head.
“My guests expect a certain degree of anonymity.” Of course, he knew a vast majority of them personally, and in the case of the female guests, most of them intimately. But that did not mean he would be handing out those names to whichever Bow Street Runners she happened to hire.
“Why on earth not? A man—a duke, no less—has been shot in his home. And you will do nothing to help.” She still held her poker, and she raised it accusingly to point it at his chin, as if it were a rapier.
“Are you going to add another act of violence to tonight’s activities?” Langley asked, curious why the thought of her being barbarous still charmed him.
“I have failed,” she continued, not lowering the poker, but there was a change in her face, as if regret and sorrow were blending painfully together. “He asked me to catch the intruder,retrieve an item…” She stopped herself from revealing whatever Ashmore had wanted rescued, and this further piqued Langley’s interest in the girl. “It was his last request.”
“He sent his goddaughter after a dangerous and armed individual. I do not think you have anything to feel guilty about.”
A slight cough echoed behind him, and Langley turned to see his butler, Tampere, and one of the footmen standing at the rear end of the hallway, having come up the stairs from the kitchen.
“Tampere, will you please escort this lady next door to Ashmore’s residence.” He then turned to the footman. “Adams, will you help search the residence in case one of my guests has got lost.”
“Proceed with caution.” Miss Keating wore a look of touching concern for Langley’s footman. “The man is violent and armed.” She offered the man her poker, and in mild confusion Adams accepted it.
“I will also be assisting Adams, have you no weapon for me?” Langley asked.
“I suspect, my lord, you would somehow manage to weasel out of any real danger.” Miss Keating accepted the butler’s arm and turned on her heel. Langley’s pride ruffled at this, after all, he spent the required amount of time at Jackson’s to be reckoned a reasonable pugilist, although in truth he much preferred his early morning bouts of riding on the Heath, as this he had found far improved his physique and did not run the risk of breaking his perfect nose. None of this Miss Keating knew, and her slight was a sure hit, but one which nonetheless brought a smile to Langley’s mouth. He rather liked that she was a spitfire. His wicked grin made her drop her eyes and depart.
