Not just there but hurling herself forward with her spear outstretched. She knocked Alice hard in the middle of her back. She gave a cry of shock and outrage and not a little pain. Her hold on Charlie slackened and Charlie threw herself to the side. Dougal grabbed her, hauling her to safety. Alice was on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. Lady Beatrice proceeded to hit her again, this time on the head with the spear. Hard.
She toppled like a felled tree. Lady Beatrice glared down her nose. “That wasn’t very graceful.”
Dougal hadn’t let go of Charlie. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“She’ll be bruised come morning,” George said before she could reply, after examining her throat.
“You’re already bruised,” she returned, her voice raspy. She turned to Lady Beatrice. “You saved me.”
“Well, of course I did,” the older lady said.
“I’ll call for the doctor,” Dougal said.
“Bah,” Lady Beatrice waved that away. “You don’t need him, you just need some ice and some tea with honey. And ice and arnica for George’s eye. I’ll see to it.”
“Dealt with a lot of strangulations, have you?” Dougal asked.
“I have a variety of interests,” she shot back primly before marching away as though she hadn’t just knocked a woman unconscious.
“Would you have coffee sent up? Meg and I were drugged and I admit the room is spinning a little.”
“You were?” Charlie’s eyes widened. “It is?”
“Laudanum. We’ll be fine. We didn’t drink enough of the doctored beer to harm us.”
“Lady Beatrice might have killed her,” George shook his head.
“Better luck next time,” Meg muttered.
Charlie grinned at her and then at her brother. “You brought her home.”
“I said I would, didn’t I? “He grinned back. “Where’s Colin?”
“In the village, chasing women, where else?”
“Thank God for that.”
Charlie glared at Alice. “Who is she anyway?”
“The daughter of the workman Lady Dahlia asked to help her with a hole in the wall,” Meg explained. “He remembered it was in the dining room but nothing else. He’d mended almost every inch of this room at one time or another, I think. And he is rather old now.”
“She’s been one of the treasure hunters this whole time?”
“One of the debutantes too, I’d wager,” Meg said. “I think she was searching for some time. A new duke and then Lord Eaton’s public reward for the treasure must have messed with her plans.”
“Good. I’d like to mess with her face,” Charlie muttered. No one mentioned manners or decorum or forgiveness.
“What should we do with her?” George asked.
“Tie her up and call the constable, I suppose,” Dougal said. “Same as with the last treasure hunter. Though I’d rather toss this one in the ocean and be done with it.”
“This does seem to be a habit.” Meg touched his cheek. “And you’re still not a murderer. Especially of women.”
“All the same, it ends now,” he returned grimly. “Even if I have to take this bloody room apart piece by piece to find that bloody treasure and parade it through London.”
Meg glanced inside. “It looks like you’ve already started.” The floorboards under the window had been pried loose and left in a haphazard pile. “What on earth happened in here?”
“Dougal happened,” Charlie told her. “He didn’t like it when you left.”