None was forthcoming.
Just as she was about to make some inane observation regarding the weather, Lord Q entered the room. He was properly dressed and his white hair neatly combed despite the lateness of the hour, as though he was just going out or had just come in. Or expecting callers.
“Yes, miss, how can I be of—” He stopped when he recognized her beneath the artifice. “Miss Parnell? And Moncreiffe.” He gestured for them to be seated. “Has something happened?” His expression remained polite but neutral, prepared for good or bad news.
Alistair remained motionless by the window.
Charlotte stayed by the fire, for all the good it was doing. Something happened? She wasn’t sure where to begin.
“Blakeney and Monsieur Gauthier?” Lord Q’s brows drew together in concern.
She shook her head.
