Much Ado In the Moonlight Read Free Page A

bed—”
    The door behind them, the door that separated the kitchen from the dining chamber, squeaked.
    “Eeek!” Hugh said, then vanished.
    Fulbert tossed back his ale and vanished, as well, without further comment.
    Ambrose extinguished all but a single candle, but didn’t have time to vanish before the door made another squeak. He looked over his shoulder, hoping against hope that his ears, and those of his companions, had been mistaken. But, nay, that was no errant noise.
    The door was eased open another finger’s breadth and a foul instrument of investigation was pushed through the crack. Ambrose recognized it for what it was: a ghostly Geiger counter. The beast made little clicks, lights ran up and down its sides, and its two little metal arms jumped, as if in anticipation of discoveries to come.
    Ambrose cursed silently. Was there no peace to be found any longer in this world?
    The counter began a bit of sniffing just inside the chamber, held by a hand that was surely more suited to seeing to guests and preparing fine repasts than tormenting poor, hapless shades. Unfortunately that hand, and the woman it was attached to, had to concern itself with things that surely didn’t concern it.
    Namely him.
    The door was flung open suddenly and into the kitchen leaped Mrs. Pruitt, dressed in head-to-toe black.
    Ambrose jumped in spite of himself. He hastened over to stand by the back door where perhaps Mrs. Pruitt wouldn’t sense his presence.
    “I know ye’re in ’ere,” Mrs. Pruitt said, waving her implement of torment about. She used her flashlight as well, to good effect. “Show yerselves, damn ye!”
    Ambrose hopped up onto a handy work table. Mrs. Pruitt and her torch investigated every corner of the kitchen, finally coming to a purposeful rest before the door. Her counter was clicking and the lights were blinking in a fashion that was quite alarming. Ambrose stared at it in horror as it came even closer. The little arms waved frantically.
    Apparently too frantically, for the entire contraption soon gave one last, great noise, then fell suddenly, and blessedly, silent.
    Mrs. Pruitt slammed the thing down on the table a time or two, peered at it, then pursed her lips.
    “Must ’ave been a bit o’ sour wind from under the door,” she grumbled.
    Ambrose breathed a sigh of relief.
    “Coward,” came a voice from beside him.
    Ambrose squawked in spite of himself, then turned to glare at Fulbert, who had appeared next to him on the table. “Can you blame me?” he whispered in irritation.
    “You gave the woman your word. I heard you fix the bargain with her yourself.”
    “Damn me, but I never said when!”
    Mrs. Pruitt tossed her contraption into the rubbish bin, turned, and stalked from the kitchen with a curse. Ambrose watched her go with a great sigh of relief.
    “I’ll tell her you intend to woo her,” Fulbert said with an unwholesome look in his eye, “and then we’ll see how things progress . . .”
    Ambrose wondered if wringing Fulbert’s neck would give him any peace. Then again, the man was his sister’s husband—and if that wasn’t enough to convince a man that there were just some things in the world, and out of it, that were simply beyond a man’s comprehension, he didn’t know what would be. He likely couldn’t just up and do damage to the man without there being hell to pay at some point in the future.
    “I’ll show myself to her in my own good time,” Ambrose said firmly. “Until then, we should concern ourselves with our next task.” He leaped athletically down from the work table and took up his place again by the fire.
    “Matchmaking,” Fulbert said with a snort, coming over to draw up his own chair. “I’m beginnin’ to think it isn’t a dignified occupation for a man of my stature.”
    “Then find something else to do,” Ambrose said pointedly.
    “I would, but you’d never manage any of these marriages without my aid and then where would I