After that eventful day, things had progressed in a whirlwind of congratulations, presents, diapers and baby powder. Half the vicar's village seemed to have raced to town along with the clergyman, and three quarters of them were gossipy old women.

"Awww....what a lovely little cuty she is!"

"What's her name?"

"Does she have a name yet?"

"Ooh, ooh, ooh! I just so happen to have brought a list of marvellous suggestions! Would you like to hear them? Habatha, Ursula, Cruella, Arachne..."

"Remind me not to invite you to my granddaughter's christening, will you?"

"What? Are you suggesting there's something wrong with my wonderful ideas?"

Unfortunately, before Amy could catch the reply to this question, the door opened and Dr Thomas T. Gallagher stepped into the room. The medical man had, despite his elevated position as head of respected hospital, had taken it upon himself to guide Jenny through her convalescence. It was amazing how a kind heart could motivate people to do good, especially if combined with ongoing opportunities to get on a certain lord's nerves.

"Ehem, ladies?" Doctor Gallagher cleared his throat, casting a meaningful glance at the old women cooing over the baby. "I'm afraid that'll have to be all for today. My patient still needs her rest."

Disappointed murmurs spread through the room, and the ladies started to shuffle towards the door—only to be stopped by the doctor.

"Excuse me. I misspoke. I shouldn't have said 'patient'. I meant patients."

He extended his arms. And, with a pout, one of the ladies handed over the cute baby she had just been about to purloin for a serious spoiling session.

"Thank, you, Ma'am. I look forward to seeing you again."

Grumbling, the crowd filed out of the room. When they had all left, the doctor's eyes landed on Amy, Patrick and his mother.

"I'm afraid that goes for you three as well. With how, ehem...energetic the little one is being, she is already missing out on plenty of sleep. She needs her afternoon nap."

"Well, let's go den, shall we?" Smirking, Amy glanced over at where the vicar was sitting on the bed next to Jenny. "I wouldn't wanna deprive my dear friend and 'er usband of deir, ehem...sleeping."

Jenny sent a glare her way. Or what would have been a glare if she'd managed to lift her eyelids higher than three millimetres.

"Ye...! I'll thank ye not ta say stuff like dat in front of me daughter!"

"But why, darling?" the vicar enquired, nonplussed. "You really do need your sleep."

Amy had decided: clueless husbands really were adorable. Maybe she should get one of those herself one day?

For some reason, her eyes were drawn sideways to where Lord Patrick Day was standing.

His Lordship shifted. "Miss Amy? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Me?" Amy batted her eyelashes up at him. "I ain't lookin' at nobody. Come, let's go, shall we?" She gave him a meaningful look. "We've got work ta do, remember?"

His eyes lit up with determination. "Ah. Yes, we do."

"Really?" The dowager duchess appeared beside the two of them, beaming. "How can I help?"

"Um..." Amy tried to resist mightily the power of the puppy-dog eyes. But how on earth was she supposed to do this? What was she supposed to tell the dowager duchess? Amy threw Lord Patrick a pleading gaze. All she received in return was a "You're on your own"-look.

Traitor!

"It's...it's..." Heck! What are ye supposed ta do in a tight spot like dis?

"It's about the charity ball, isn't it?" Her Ladyship demanded, practically oozing eagerness. "Oh, please let me help! Please, please!"

Oh, thank ye! Whatever weird, kinky guardian angel was watchin' me, thank ye!

"Why, of course ye may, Yer Ladyship," Amy immediately replied and sent a big smile at Lord Patrick as the three of them stepped out of the room. "And since 'is Lordship was da one ta come up with da idea of da ball, why don't ye ask 'im about it?"

Ha! Take dat, ye traitorous nob!

"Ehem, well..." Lord Patrick cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm afraid I will not be able to take care of the matters regarding the charity ball. There is some important business that has come up."

"Oh." Lady Henrietta's face fell. At the sight, Amy felt the urge to smack Patrick upside the head. So she did exactly that.

"Ow!"

"How could ye!" she admonished him for doing exactly what she had trapped him into doing ten seconds earlier. "Yer mother is such a sweet lady! Ye shouldn't disappoint 'er like dat!"

Lady Henrietta beamed. "Thank you, dear!"

"You are...quite correct." Eyes flashing a steely blue, Lord Patrick Day bowed his head. "I was remiss in my manners. My mother is indeed a wonderful lady, who does not deserve to be maltreated—unlike some others I could mention."

Moisture glinted at the corners of Her Ladyship's eyes. "Why, thank you, Patrick, dear!"

"However, unfortunately, the matter that has come up is truly urgent and cannot be delayed. I simply must attend to it and will have to leave you in charge of the ball. But don't worry. I already have the perfect candidate in mind to help you with organizing this charity event in my stead."

Amy's eyebrows rose. He did?

Glancing up at his face, she caught sight of his eyes, glittering with wicked intent. But he couldn't be thinking of offloading the duties onto her, could he? She had to come with him for their next investigation. Jenny wasn't exactly in the right condition to be organizing a charity ball. Cora would be sure to be looking after her friend. Karim wouldn't go near a charity ball in favour of less reputable ladies with a ten-foot-pole. That only left...

A smirk spread over Amy's face. Her head turned, until her eyes found one of the guests who had come with them, but had stayed back in the hallway, safe out of the range of baby spit.

"The perfect candidate?" Her Ladyship enquired. "Who?"

Smiling broadly, Lord Patrick turned his gaze down the hallway, gesturing. "Titus? Come over here for a minute, will you?"

The Honourable Titus Irving, apparently relieved he could get away from the crowd of old biddies who were still loitering around the front door, quickly moved to his best friend's side. After all, what danger could a best friend be?

"Yes, Patrick?"

"I have another job for you."

Titus' face brightened. "One like the last one?"

"You could say that." The smile on Lord Patrick's face was perfectly beatific. Amy couldn't help but feel a bit of pride in her student. He had become such an amazing bullshitter. Leaning forward, he whispered so that only Titus and Amy could hear: "The job I need you for...it involves prostitutes. Lots and lots of prostitutes."

The grin on Titus' face was so wide it nearly spit his head in two. "I'm in! Tell me more!"

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't." Patting his friend on the shoulder, he grabbed him by the arm and shoved him towards Lady Henrietta. "My lady mother will take care of that. Goodbye."

And he was out the door faster than Amy could blink.

Which was pretty darn fast, incidentally!

Muttering about nefarious lords and their hidden evil genius, Amy snatched her cloak from the coathanger next to the front door and dashed after him, out into the cool autumn afternoon.

***

With a soft murmur, the autumn rain danced on the roof of the coach. Wheels creaked and clattered as they raced over the cobblestone road, heading out of the city. Taking a deep breath, Lord Patrick gazed out into the gray English afternoon, back down the way they had come, searching the road for any pursuers.

"Are you sure we managed to shake them off?"

"Aye."

"And you checked the luggage?"

"Aye."

"Twice?"

"I think I'd notice five brats stowed away among me knickers, thank ye."

"Thank goodness!" Breathing a sigh of relief, Lord Patrick sank back into his seat. But, deep inside, he swore to himself that when next they stopped at an inn, he'd search their luggage for hidden pre-teen girls.

Now there is a thought I'd never thought I'd have.

But, considering the girls in question, it might be a wise thing to do. After all, if those five had once again decided to sneak into their coach, things might get complicated. Finding some way to save a girl they were supposed to deliver to her captors would be difficult enough. But doing it with five nosy brats in tow? That would be nigh impossible.

Plus, there was the little fact that one of the girls was a kleptomaniac. And another one had a big knife and a homicidal bunny.

"So..." Taking a deep breath, he closed the window of the coach and turned to face Amy. "Now what? Where are we heading?"

"North." Reaching into a folder lying on the seat beside her, Amy pulled out a certain sheet of cheap paper that looked very familiar to His Lordship. "Dere are directions on da back of da gangsters' letter. According to dis, dey lost da girl up in Scotland." Pointing out of the window, she jabbed her thumb down the road. "She's run off and is 'idin' out in some forest."

"A forest?" Lord Patrick demanded, aghast. "In mid October?"

"Nah, she's waitin' till July before goin' on a picnic. July."

Patrick didn't even bother to shoot a snarky remark back. "Coachman!" he bellowed, pounding the roof of the coach with his walking stick. "Faster!"

As the rain grew heavier and heavier, they raced down the road at increasing speeds. Even when the dimly visible sun sank beyond the horizon, they rushed ahead. Some part of Patrick knew that this was unwise, nay, downright foolhardy! Apart from the little fact that there was not a single lamp along the road that could light the way, there often were highwaymen roaming the roads at night, looking for any travellers stupid enough to be travelling while the sun was down. It would be much safer if they were sleeping in their beds right now.

But we can't waste time. Not right now! Not while that girl is out there!

He felt guilty enough for not being able to save those children in the gangsters' hideout. Not saving someone who nearly was within his reach?

Not acceptable!

Besides... Reaching down, he palmed the butt of the gun hanging reassuringly at his side. If those highwaymen decide to show up, they might just get a surprise. To bastardize a famous saying, the higher they are, the harder they fall.

Three days. Three days and nights they had been rattling along the bumpy road, by some miracle having not a single accident along the way. Never before in his life had Lord Patrick realized how wonderful certain basic things in life could be. Like beds. Or cushions. Or non-aching necks. How he actually managed to sleep in a vehicle that jerked and creaked every few seconds was a mystery to him. One that he'd rather avoid ever solving.

"Oy! Oy, wake up!"

"Wrgsghg?" Jerking upright, Lord Patrick's eyes fluttered open, and quickly he reached up to wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth. "What is it?"

"Look." Raising one hand, Amy pointed out of the window. Still half-asleep, Lord Patrick needed a moment or two before he noticed the dark shape of the house at the side of the road. A moment later, he saw Amy's gaze flick to him. "An inn."

"What would we need a—yawwwn—inn for?" Hurriedly, Lord Patrick raised a hand to hide his yawn.

"Gee." She rolled her eyes. And...was that concern he saw in there? "I wonder."

"Ehem. All right." He cleared his throat. "Maybe I do need a good night's sleep."

"Aye. And besides, we've nearly reached da place where da forest is supposed ta be. If dere's a stray runnin' around 'ere somewhere, she's gotta 'ave bin getting' food somewhere, no? Where do ye think she went ta get dat?"

Instantly, Patrick's gaze zeroed in on the inn. "You mean...?"

"Aye." Grinning, Amy nodded. "Fancy a bite ta eat, Yer Lordship?"

Lord Patrick met her emerald eyes. Seldom had he seen amything as beautiful before. "Why yes, I'd love to, Miss Weston."

"Spiffin'. Den would ye...?"

"Yes."

Once again, Lord Patrick pounded the coach roof. "Everstone? Pull over. We'll be staying for the night there."

In answer, he received a groan that might just as well have come right out of Count Dracula's coffin. It was only then His Lordship remembered that, while sleeping in a coach for three nights straight might be rather taxing, driving the coach throughout those very same three nights might be a teensy-weensy bit more tiring.

Oops. Maybe he should give Everstone a bonus in the not-too-distant future.

Soon, the coach rolled into the inn's courtyard. The sound of the iron-rimmed wheels on the gravel must have alerted someone, because they had hardly come to a stop when the innkeeper came rushing out onto the porch. Through the drizzle, Patrick eyed the stick-thin male. If the girl had indeed been stealing food here, as Amy suspected, she certainly seemed to have been successful.

"Welcome, Sir! Welcome!" The lanky man bowed hurriedly. "I didna expect anyone to come by this late at night. What can I do for ye and yer lass?"

"We could use a bed for the night," Patrick stretched with a groan, cracking his joints. "And some directions."

"And food," Amy added. "Lots and lots of food!"

"Och aye!" The innkeeper nodded hurriedly. "I'll warm up some haggis straight away!"

Inwardly, Lord Patrick contemplated whether it wouldn't have been a better idea to leave the innocent victim out in the forest to freeze. Then they would have never had to enter Scotland, home of the ghastly gourmet ghouls.

"Come on!" Grabbing him by the arm, Amy pulled him out of the carriage. "I'm 'ungry!"

His Lordship eyed her incredulously. "For haggis? You do know that is stuffed sheep's stomach, don't you?"

Amy lifted an eyebrow. "Would ye prefer pig ears?"

Lord Patrick considered this for a moment. "Let's go! I'm hungry for haggis! It's always an amazing experience to try new local delicacies."

Amy grinned. The grin tugged at Lord Patrick's heart strings. It was so free. So wild. So beautiful.

Beautiful enough to eat haggis for.

"Den come." A small, soft hand slipped into his. "Let's enjoy our food."

Oh dear goodness, what did I get myself into?

***

One splendidly restful night later, Amy stretched, yawned and blinked into the morning sunlight. Outside the window, trees decorated in fiery autumn colours swayed in the wind. Through the wall, she could hear the melodious sound of lordly indigestion. Ah, music in her ears...

Climbing out of bed, Amy slipped into her dress and made her way out onto the landing, where she knocked on the door of the privy.

"'ow are ye doin' in dere?"

"I. Am. Going. To. Get. You. For. This."

"Ah. I take it ye enjoyed da haggis? Was it even better dan da pig ears?"

A tortured groan came from beyond the door. "Never again. Never again will I let you drag me into an eating establishment."

"Ah." Amy nodded happily. "I'll have to mention ta 'er Ladyship den dat it's 'igh time ye take me out for dinner."

Ten minutes or so later, Amy and a rather pale-looking Lord Patrick Day descended to the common room and were soon sitting at the breakfast table eating their breakfast, which, luckily for a certain nobleman's digestion, did not consist of haggis. After some time, the innkeeper came by with a tray of drinks.

"Guid mornin', the both of ye! How are ye doing today?"

"Fabulous," Patrick stated in a voice straight from the grave. "Absolutely fabulous."

Below the table, Amy gently but firmly kicked Lord Patrick's shin. Something which, her friend Lilly had reliably informed her, was the best way for couples to get to know each other. She couldn't neglect her new fiancé now, could she?

"Aye, yer food just tastes wonderful!" Amy sent the gangly man her most charming smile. Instantly, the man's face did its best tomato imitation.

"Oh, um, well...thank ye very much, lass. That's nice to hear."

"And, speaking of wonderful..." Widening her smile, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Me fiancé and me 'ave bin cooped up down south in London for far too long and need ta find a nice spot of nature ta relax. Ye wouldn't 'appen ta 'ave any place ta recommend, would ye?"

"Well, um..."

Come on. Come on, spill!

But the innkeeper only looked more uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to another.

"I 'eard dere's a forest somewhere nearby," she encouraged. "Glenmore Forest, I think it's called. Would you 'appen ta know the way dere?"

"Well...aye, I do." The man nodded, glancing over his shoulder as if someone were watching him, then pointed towards the window, through which Amy could see a path that veered off from the main road. "Ye'll find the forest that way, lass. But I wouldna recommend ye going there."

"And why's that?" His Lordship enquired, frowning.

"Don't ye know? Why, there's some nasty kind of ghost that's made its lair in there." He shuddered. "People have been talking, ye know? Branches rustling without reason, stones flying through the air, weird noises echoing between the trees...there's been all kinds of spooky shenanigans going on in there. Some lad that got curious and went in there even came stumbling out bleedin', screamin' about evil fairies and whatnot being after his blood! I've got no idea what's going on in there, but one thing's for sure, I donnae wanna go in and find out."

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy saw Patrick go pale, and this time probably not because of indigestion. She could practically see his thoughts written all over his face: Not only was the little girl hiding out in a forest, in Scotland, just before the coming of winter, but it was a haunted forest?

"We have to go!" he said with finality, pushing himself up and grabbing his cloak. "We have to get the poor girl out of there, now!"

***

Deep within the dark depths of the forest, a silent form slipped between the trees like a ghost. It wasn't long ere the figure reached a slender path running through the forest and slowed down. Hardly visible beneath the fallen autumn leaves, the path wound between the trees. Most people would just have wandered past it without a second glance. But the dark figure halted, leaping up onto a branch and melding into the shadows.

A long, long time later...

Leaves rustled and branches cracked. A moment later, a deer stuck its nose out from behind a tree. Slowly, it moved down the path, sniffling and brushing leaves away on the search for tasty plants, when—

Sshhhk!

With a hiss and a thud, the arrow hit. The deer stumbled—which was all the distraction needed for a second arrow to successfully hit its target.

Sshhhk!

This time, the arrow hit just where it was meant to. The prey fell to the ground, dead. Immediately, a certain shadowy figure dropped down from the trees and, landing softly on the forest floor, made its way over to the deer. Several busy and rather bloody minutes later, the deer was skinned and expertly taken apart. Above the bloody mess, a wild grin flickered in the darkness.

Well, well, things are going well, aren't they?

Gazing down at her bloody work, the young woman's smirk widened. Those bastards had actually thought they could take her? Her?

She snorted. Her father had been a sergeant in the army, and before that, had spent years as a poacher, evading various lords' minions to great effect. The old bugger hadn't exactly been a stalwart feminist, but after years without a son born to him, to take care of him in old age, he'd done the smart thing and taught his daughter everything he knew. She'd done her duty by the old sod, but the moment he'd kicked the bucket, she'd been out on the road, roaming free, where no one could tell her what to do.

And no one to watch my back, either.

Scowling with annoyance at the memory of how those bastards had gotten the jump on her, she ripped some tendons from the carcass. The scowl was soon replaced by another smile, though, when she remembered slitting her bonds with her hidden knife, and then doing the same to her captors' throats. Ah, the small joys in life...

Whistling, she rolled up the tendons and stuffed them into her bag. One could never have enough replacement bow strings. Especially since she had a sneaking suspicion she wasn't going to be alone in this forest for long. Even after all her work to make sure the locals avoided the "haunted" forest, there were still some fools venturing into this place. And that didn't even yet include the most problematic kind of visitors: people who weren't intent on hunting ghosts, but real live girls.

They would come.

She knew.

Still, that didn't mean much. If those bastard child snatchers were stupid enough to send someone after her...

With a tug, she pulled her arrow out of the bloody carcass. Grinning, she raised it and watched the red glint on the tip shimmering in the moonlight.

Let's give them a warm welcome, shall we?

-----------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Extra-long chapter today! I hope you enjoyed it :)

Yours Truly

Sir Rob