“The Tremaynes have caught a speeler, my lord. Isn’t that excellent of them?”

Noble shot Gillian a quick glance of disbelief, then strolled forward to have a look at the bleeding man held by his two footmen. With one hand he grabbed the gentleman’s hair and yanked upwards, peering into the bloodied face. “Bloody…it’s McGregor!” he roared and waved his hand at the footmen. They released their burden. The poor Scottish speeler hit the ground like a sack of marble. He groaned and muttered quietly as he tried to move his arms and legs.

“Charles! Dickon! You dropped the speeler! Pick him up this instant,” Gillian demanded. A right speeler the gentleman might be, but he was a gentleman, anyone could see that by his elegant clothing. The two footmen bent and picked him up again.

“Not in my house you won’t. Drop him,” Noble ordered. They grinned and let go of McGregor again. He groaned even louder and lifted his head. One eye was swollen shut and a cut on his forehead was responsible for the blood covering the left side of his face.

“Oh, you poor man,” Gillian started, kneeling next to him, dabbing at the cut with her handkerchief. “Pick him up, Charles, Dickon. He’s injured.”

Alasdair McGregor, Lord Carlisle, groaned again and pushed himself into a shaky sitting position. “If you don’t mind, madam, I believe I’ll take my chances with my own two legs.”

“Wife, you will cease attending that blackguard and remove yourself from this hall,” Noble demanded, marching over and prodding the Scot with the tip of his boot. “I shall see to it this refuse is removed promptly.”

“That’s right, my lady, you just step back and let Crouch and me take care of the gentleman,” one of the Tremaynes said as he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles in a menacing manner. Tremayne One, Gillian thought.

“Aye, mistress, we’ll take care of the bloke. We’ll tuck him away in lavender, we will.”

Gillian smiled at Crouch, who had assisted the gentleman to his feet by one powerful tug to the back of his waistcoat. “That’s very sweet of you, Crouch, but I doubt lavender is the scent the gentleman prefers. Do you need further assistance, sir? Might I offer you a restorative strong beverage?”

Carlisle squirmed out of Crouch’s hold, stepped over the body of the prone Tremayne, and made an effort to tug down his waistcoat. “Indeed, madam, I do not require either your assistance or a strong beverage. I thank you for your kind concern, however, as it is certainly a welcome oasis in what has otherwise been a vast desert of hospitality.”

Gillian tsked over his cut and offered her handkerchief.

“Out!” Noble thundered, stepping protectively in front of Gillian.

“My lord, your manners!” Gillian prodded him to move. Noble stayed where he was. Gillian prodded again. “We have a guest who has suffered an unfortunate accident.”

Crouch snickered. Charles and Dickon snickered. Tremayne One and Two snickered, looked at each other in surprise, and immediately frowned at the floor when Tremayne Three snored.