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“Does anyone care about all our furniture? They’re just chairs and pictures.”
“I know. But it is something to look at, isn’t it?”
Ahead of them, Miss Fiona tugged on her sister’s sleeve and then whispered, none-too-quietly, “I’m bored.”
Her older sister shushed her. “Mind your manners, Fi.”
Then they came to the statue of the Three Graces—three nude, feminine forms meant to depict Greek goddesses. A tasteful piece, most thought, but James fell into a fit of giggles as Josephine gestured to the piece to talk about the artist who had created the statue, as well as several Greek-inspired figures in the gardens.
Miss Fiona’s nose wrinkled as she stared up at the statue. Then she looked at her sister. “Why haven’t they put on any clothes? Wouldn’t they be cold?”
“Saints, Fi. It isart.” Miss Frost cast a glance over her shoulder at that moment, and her gaze made contact with his own. She smiled at him, rather indifferently, he thought, and shrugged. She mouthed the word, “Children.”
He gave a sharp nod and gestured with one hand to James and mouthed back, “I know.”
They shared commiserating smiles, then continued to the next room. By the time they made it through the library and down two more long corridors, then into the smaller, private dining room, Lady Dunmore had either reached her limit for the day or else decided to take pity on the others in their party.
“Oh, my dear Lady Josephine, I am afraid I must beg a rest. This is such a beautiful castle, and your family’s treasures are extraordinary. I think we will have to continue on tomorrow, though I have several questions to ask. Do you think your mother would discuss her thoughts on some of her decor decisions? I would not dare to presume upon her time.”
“Mother would be delighted to discuss anything to do with the castle,” Josephine assured the baroness, leading her to a couch to sit and converse.
Though Miss Frost stepped forward as though to follow her brother, mother, and Josephine, she stopped when James heaved a dramatic sigh.
“Finally. Come on, Fi. I’ll show you a shortcut back to the schoolroom.”
The little girl drew herself up, looking remarkably like her older sister. “Youcannotcall me that, Lord James. It isn’t mannerly of you.”
“Why not?” the boy asked.
“She hasn’t given you leave to use her Christian name,” Simon reminded his little brother, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. “One doesn’t call a lady by such familiar terms without permission.”
“Oh, that.” James scoffed. “Listen, you can call me James. But don’t call me Jim. I had a tutor who did that once, and I hated it. If you don’t like Fi, I can call you Fiona, but Fi saves time.” He used his thumb to indicate the door behind them. “But if you want to get out of here before they make us look at even more furniture, we should leave while Josephine is distracted.”
Simon checked to see how Miss Frost was taking this strange conversation and found her biting her lip, her eyes dancing with amusement. Why was she only cheerful when he wasn’t speaking with her? Puzzling woman.
“Fine,” Miss Fiona said with a put-upon sigh. “If you try to scare me with ghosts in the attic again, I’ll call a banshee down on you.”
At that, Miss Frost gasped. “Fi, we do not jest about such things.”
She shrugged. “He told me his great-grandfather haunted the attic and cellars and would chain me up in the dungeon if he caught me out after midnight.”
As ridiculous as that tale was, Simon had a difficult time sounding disapproving. Even though it fell to him to take his brother to task. “James, is that how this started?”
The boy shrugged, quite unconcerned. “Castles without ghost stories are boring. And we don’t even have a dungeon.”
“That is beside the point.” It was no wonder, Simon thought, that the governess had banished the two children from the schoolroom. Mrs. Robinson was a saint to put up with his brother’s antics. Now an Irish girl was threatening them with a keening, ghostly creature that heralded misery and death.
“Doesn’t matter,” James said, taking Miss Fiona by the hand. “Come along, Fi, before Simon lectures us too.” He gave her a tug, and with a mighty sigh, the girl followed him out the doorway and into some other mischief.
Miss Frost stepped beside Simon, watching the two run down the corridor.
“Should we go after them?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “Or trust that he will not find an attic in which to lock her up? Of course, she’s as likely to pretend at laying a fairy curse on him as anything.”
“If she is as feral as he is, I cannot see any harm in them disappearing together.”
“Can you not?” Miss Frost canted her head to the side and eyed him with obvious amusement. “Even if they are not a threat to each other, imagine the havoc they could cause in a castle this size.”
His lips twitched. “Shall we go after them?”
