Blast! The few times she'd tried to lie, people had told her she was terrible at it.
"I am not a ninny, sir, and I wish you would stop speaking to me thus. My guards had excellent references from their past employment."
"If you withhold things from me, I cannot help you." Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest, appearing as superior as most every male aristocrat she knew—nay, more so.
She narrowed her eyes. "As I said, I have no need of your help. You're free to go whenever you wish."
"Nonsense. You may not want my help, but you need it. What type of men were your guards? Were they loyal? Do you have an enemy who could've paid them to leave? Is someone jealous of your wealth?"
Her head pained her, and she rubbed at her temples. Good lord, what was she supposed to do? Her guards vanished… and now this forceful Highlander was demanding she reveal everything. She knew very little about him. Her mind spun and grappled for the answers to his questions. So many questions. If she showed any weakness, would he also take advantage of her?
Trying not to feel completely overwhelmed, she straightened her shoulders and put on a brave front. "I thought they were loyal, but obviously I was mistaken."
"Aye, well, 'tis becoming clear to me that this was not a simple theft. Is this the baronial estate that your son will inherit?"
At least that was one Elspeth could answer. "Nay, he will inherit Greymont, a separate estate with a small castle a few miles south of here. I own this manor house free and clear. My son will, of course, inherit it one day."
Cyrus nodded. "How did you come to own this home?"
A rush of discomfiting heat washed over her. Why on earth was he being so nosey? Surely that had naught to do with the burglary. "I purchased it with the earnings from my business." She hated to lie, but she couldn't tell him it was payment from Dalacroy. A home of her own was the main thing she'd wanted after her husband had lost Greymont to him. She'd had a devil of a time getting that estate back for her son.
"Has anyone shown interest in this estate or your son's? 'Haps tried to purchase either from you?"
The image of Mr. Thorndyke, with his pudgy body and stringy brown hair, popped into her head.
"Tell me what you're thinking." Cyrus eyed her intently as if trying to read her mind.
Not realizing her mouth had dropped open, she snapped it closed. No doubt she looked stunned. She would have to guard her expressions better. "Just before I left for Castle Rebbinglen, a Mr. Thorndyke came into my dress shop and tried to buy it."
Cyrus frowned. "Who is he?"
"Rose said he is a solicitor for wealthier men in these parts."
"What else do you know about him?"
"Naught, except that he's loathsome. He sneered at me, ridiculed my shop, and did not take well to my refusal. But he obviously had great respect for Rose, for he quickly left after her arrival."
Cyrus stroked his fingers over the short dark beard on his chin. "Who are the other wealthy men in the area?"
"There is a Baron Atken. His wife is one of my customers. As for the rest, I would have to ask Rose." 'Twas the truth, for Dalacroy was no longer living and she knew none of the others, aside from Rose. Many of her customers were from other towns or estates farther afield. "My late husband was very unsociable."
A knock sounded at the door, startling her.
"Enter," she called.
Gracie, her newest maid, opened the door and curtsied. "Mistress Almsly bid me to come get you, m'lady. Stillman has awakened."
