Maura cast him a virulent gaze. Her chin firmed. She wouldn’t let him bait her. She proceeded to gaze out the window the rest of the way home.
Certainly she did not deign to venture a single word.
Back at Gleneden, she handed her hat to a waiting maid, then requested that her riding habit be laid out.
There was a tap on her shoulder. “I fear your ride shall have to wait.” Alec gave a nod. Maura looked beyond his shoulder to discover that the skies had opened up like a floodgate. Rain lashed the windowpanes.
“Of course, living on that soggy bog of an isle called Ireland, no doubt you’re used to a little rain.”
“You,” she declared aloud, “are a wretched creature to torment me so. But no doubt the sky is as moody as Gleneden’s master.” Directing an acid smile his way, she removed her gloves and handed them to Aggie, the maid. “I think I should like tea in the red parlor.”
The little maid seemed puzzled. It was Alec who supplied the reason why.
“I think, Irish, you mean the gold parlor in the north wing, the family wing. There is no red parlor, although there is a pink parlor in the guest wing.”
Maura glanced at the maid. “The gold parlor, then, please.”
“The gold parlor it is, your grace.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and hastened to do her mistress’s bidding. Maura glared at Alec, then turned toward the north wing. The beast was enjoying himself at her expense far too much.
But it impressed upon Maura exactly what she was up against. Since her arrival, her search for the Circle of Light hadn’t extended beyond more than half a dozen bedchambers in the north wing, and a cursory search of the garret where she found the candlesticks she’d given to Murdoch.
Sitting in the gold parlor with her tea, she reminded herself there was no need to be disheartened. Gleneden Hall was simply larger than she had expected. The hardest thing was figuring outwhere a pirate who had lived two hundred years ago would have hidden the Circle—hidden it where no one might find it in the next two hundred years.
Because no one had.
It was still here.
Somewhere.
That strange sense that it was here had not lessened.
If anything, it was sharper—even more keen—stronger than ever. She felt it every time she passed the portrait of James McBride, seventh Duke of Gleneden. And every time, as well, it was as though she’d been plunged into a vat of ice. Something gleamed in his eyes, as if he taunted her.
And each and every time, she cursed his blackguard soul. Maura stirred her tea restlessly and replaced the little spoon on the saucer. Her gaze circled the room, coming to rest on a painting of a basket of fruit above the sofa. Poking her head in the hall to make certain no one was about, she scurried back inside to peer behind each of the six paintings in the parlor. No hidden compartments behind any of them. No secret drawers in the long low table behind the sofa. She chafed. If Alec weren’t in the house, she could prowl to her heart’s content.
Returning to her tea, she glanced out the window. The rain had begun to lessen. The hours of travel had made her long to be outdoors. If the rain stopped and there was enough daylight left, she would walk to the wishing well. Maura smiled. It was not a place of whimsical beauty, but rather one of whimsy. Sheand Alec’s mother had something in common. They both liked it there.
“Your grace?”
Maura glanced up. It was Aggie, and only then did she realize that the girl had called her twice. She winced inside. She wasn’t used to being addressed as “your grace.”
“Yes, Aggie?”
“His grace requests your presence in your room, your grace.”
“Thank you, Aggie.” Did he think she would scurry to his summons? By heaven, he could wait.
A full fifteen minutes passed before she strolled to her room. Alec was sitting in one of the large wing chairs in front of the fireplace. Judging from his expression, it didn’t appear he’d been waiting impatiently.
He got to his feet. In one hand was a small beribboned box. He tapped it against his chest.
“Did you think I forgot our bargain at Madame Rousseau’s?” he asked.
Maura’s heart bounded. Her stockings! She snatched at the box.
Alec held it high above his head. “Take care you don’t lose it!” he cautioned. “Remember our promise. Whatever you bought, you promised to wear.”
