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Alistair was prowling the room like a cat on the hunt. He stopped before a collection of small porcelain figurines on a table and asked without turning around, “This is his main residence?”
“Yes.”
He moved to peer at the boy’s portrait. “And he has children of his own?”
“Two girls and three boys.” She stroked one finger gently over the embroidery on her sleeve.
“Then he has an heir.”
“Yes.”
He was behind her now, out of her sight, but his voice sounded quite near when he asked, “What age is his heir?”
She frowned a little, thinking. “Four and twenty, perhaps? I’m not sure.”
“But he’s a grown man.”
“Yes.”
He came back into her sight, wandering to the tall windows overlooking the garden in back. “And his wife? Who is she?”
Helen stared at her skirt. “He’s married to the daughter of an earl. I’ve never met her.”
“No, of course not,” he muttered, turning away from the window. “I suppose you wouldn’t have.”
He didn’t say it with any condemnation in his voice, but she still felt heat climb up her throat and face. She wasn’t sure how to reply and thus was rather relieved when the butler returned.
The man’s face was impassive now as he told them that the duke was not receiving visitors. Helen half expected Alistair to demand to see the duke and push past the man. Instead he merely nodded and escorted her to the waiting carriage.
She looked at him curiously after the carriage pulled away. “Was that helpful to you?”
He nodded. “I think so, although what he does next will be more so, I hope.”
“What he does next?”
“How he reacts to our presence in town.” He looked at her, a corner of his mouth twisting up. “It’s like poking a hornet’s nest to see what will happen.”
“I’d think you’d get a hoard of angry hornets swarming you,” she said dryly.
“Ah, but will they attack immediately or wait for another poke? Will they come all at once or send out scouts first?”
She stared at him, bemused. “And poking Lister like a nest of hornets tells you all that?”
“Oh, yes.” He looked quite satisfied as he held the curtain open with one finger to gaze out the carriage window.
“I see.” She believed him, that somehow he was gaining knowledge in a masculine war, but such Machiavellian mechanisms were too complex for her. She merely wanted her children back, pure and simple. She chided herself to be patient. If Alistair’s methods could bring back the children, she could wait.
She could.
“I need to make another errand,” he said.
She looked up. “Where?”
“I have to see about a ship at the docks.”
“What ship? Why?”
He was silent, and for a moment she thought he would not reply. Then he frowned and glanced away from the window to her. “There’s a Norwegian ship that’s docking the day after tomorrow, or at least it should be. On it is a friend, a fellow naturalist. I’ve promised to see him.”
