Chapter Two
K ara managed to get a great deal done, both with Turner and with Moseman, the man who acted as her right hand in running the businesses and factories she’d inherited from her father. She had a lovely luncheon with him and his family, then managed to convince them to stay after Niall and Harold returned with Lord Stayme in tow.
They shared news, much laughter, and a little gossip. Miss Harriett Moseman, as predicted, adored her French parfum , and continued to practice her fledgling skills at flirtation upon Niall. He bore it well and treated her gently. After a sumptuous afternoon tea, the Mosemans departed, and Stayme went upstairs to his rooms to rest. Kara went looking for Niall, but couldn’t find him, not in the house or even out at his forge.
“Turner, have you seen Niall?” she asked when she returned.
“No, Your Grace, but I heard Crewe mention that the duke went out for a walk.”
“Oh,” Kara said, surprised. “Very well, then. It gives us a chance to chat, doesn’t it? Will you join me in the ivory sitting room?”
“Of course.”
They settled into the little room that she’d always regarded as a combination of office and private retreat. She poured a snifter of brandy for Turner and a bit for herself. Turner sighed as he sank into the plush leather chair. Kara got comfortable on the settee and smiled at him over the top of her glass. “Just like old times, isn’t it?”
Her butler, friend, and assistant permitted himself a rare, conspiratorial grin. “So it is.” He took a long drink. “But on the whole, I prefer these times.” He raised his brows. “You are not nearly so lonely now as you were back then.”
“I may have felt lonely at times, but I was never alone ,” she said fiercely. “I always had you.”
“And so you always shall.” He lifted his glass.
“Who could have predicted such a turn of events?” she marveled.
“No one,” he said with firm decisiveness. “There could have been no prediction of such a tangled path.”
“It ended well, in any case—and that’s my romantic life sorted. Now, what of yours? I trust you had the chance to spend a little more time with Mrs. Canning while we were gone?” Turner’s affection for the housekeeper of nearby Wood Rose Abbey—and hers for him—was the stuff of much local gossip.
“We spent an appropriate amount of time together, as we always do,” he answered primly.
“But Turner, we’ve all grown busier over the last couple of years—”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Nor would I, but I would never wish to take away your personal time.” At his stubborn look, she changed topics. “How is Tom coming along as underbutler?”
“The young man is learning. He is enthusiastic. It was a good idea to promote him.”
“Excellent. You are satisfied, then?” She knew he would understand all that she was asking.
“In every way,” he said gently.
“Good.” She sighed in relief and leaned back against the cushions. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Kara let her mind roam back over the day. “Did you think Niall looked a little…tense this afternoon?” she asked suddenly.
Turner thought it over. “No. Not that I noticed.”
“Hmm. Good, then.”
A smile played at the corner of the butler’s mouth. “Perhaps he is just loath to give up the relaxation and ease of your travels.”
Kara fought back a blush. “Perhaps.” She thought about it. “I know how to fix that. Will you have the fires lit in my laboratory tomorrow morning and have our breakfast served out there? Just the two of us? He always enjoys that.”
“Of course.”
“I haven’t even set foot in the lab since we returned. Has Harold made any progress on the Green Man?” She and her ward had dreamed up the design of the automaton after Harold found a Green Man sculpted into a fountain at their new estate in Scotland.
“No. After his schooling, he’s been spending most of his time with Gyda in the forge.” Turner lifted his shoulder. “I believe he’s been waiting for you.”
“Well, we will get back to it, then.”
Turner drained his brandy and stood. “And that is exactly what I should do. First, I’ll go and tell Cook about your plans for breakfast.”
Kara finished her drink as well. “Yes, I think I’ll see what Harold is doing. Perhaps he’ll want to begin again on the Green Man.”
She found the boy in the schoolroom, draped over a desk. “What are you working on?” she asked as she entered.
Harold jumped and draped a protective arm over the paper in front of him. “Oh! You startled me.”
“Niall mentioned you were interested in Mr. Blundel’s work on cataloging the wildlife in his wetlands. Are you researching the subject?” The boy often enjoyed digging into the topics she and Niall used in their art.
“No.” Harold stood and placed himself between her and the desk. “I am, ah… I am working on something, but I’m not quite ready to show it to you yet.”
“Oh.” Kara stopped, surprised. “Of course. I don’t mean to pry.”
“No! You are not prying. I just want to sort everything and get organized before I share it.”
“Of course,” she repeated. He sounded so…grown. It gave her a pang. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” She turned to go.
“Kara?”
She turned back just in time to catch him as he hurled himself into her arms.
“I’m so glad you are back.”
She ran her hands through his hair and pressed her cheek to the top of his head. “So am I. Let me know when you are ready to begin working on the Green Man again.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Excellent.” She left him and paused on the landing of the main staircase, her heart full and her mind busy. Harold was growing up. They had tried to give him opportunities to explore different skills since he had come into their care. It would be up to him to choose his path, but she couldn’t help but wonder which direction he would take.
And where was Niall? She drifted downstairs to see if he’d returned.
“I haven’t seen the duke,” the maid, Prudence, told her. “But Lord Stayme announced that he is tired and not at all hungry after such an extensive tea. He has asked for a tray in his room tonight. Shall I bring one up for you as well?”
“No, thank you. I find I’m not hungry either. I’ll wait for Niall.”
Prudence curtsied and set off. Kara drifted upstairs. She sat down with her correspondence until her eyes grew tired, then she rang for her dresser and readied for bed. Yawning, she curled up in a chair before the fire—and woke, much later, to find Niall kneeling before her.
“Kara?”
Smiling sleepily, she reached for him. He gathered her in his arms and took her to the bed. “Where have you been?” she asked as he climbed in next to her.
“I went walking and stopped to chat with the gardeners.” He smoothed her hair on the pillow. “I remember the first time I saw you in these rooms.”
“It was you sitting in that chair back then,” she said sleepily. “I walked in and you scared the life out of me.”
He chuckled. “You showed no sign of it.”
“Well, I couldn’t, could I?”
“I was frightened for you,” he said, his voice low. “Do you remember? That night I saw someone come through the gate hidden in the hedge, beyond the laboratory.”
She nodded and yawned.
“How many people here at Bluefield know about that door?”
“Turner, of course.” She yawned again. “The head gardener, too, and likely his son.” She forced her mind to focus. “Turner may have shared it with young Tom.” Her brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the footmen knew. It’s not as protected a secret as the tunnels are. My father used to say that letting a lesser secret out kept people from looking for more.”
Niall pursed his lips. “Those who know about it do not use it, though, do they?”
“No. My father would use it occasionally, to avoid visitors he had no wish to see. I used it for the same reason a time or two.” She gave him a sleepy grin. “But not since that night, when I found you here.”
“Someone has used it recently,” he said quietly.
She frowned. “How would you know?”
“I twisted a thin piece of twine at the bottom of the gate, so that I would know if it has been opened.”
She blinked. “When did you set that up?”
“Back when I first moved into the loft above the forge. It seemed like a good idea, to keep track of something that was supposed to be secret. The twine was never shifted, however. I checked it again before we left on our tour. It was intact then. It isn’t any longer.”
“But the gate is hidden in the hedge. It could have been disturbed by weather, or by a bird or an animal.”
“Perhaps.”
She could tell he didn’t believe it. She started to rise up on one elbow, but he shifted his gaze to the chair again. “You might have thrown me a bone, that first night in here,” he said dryly. “As I recall, you had already bested me once that day.”
She made a face. “No. I could not have made any of it easier on you.”
“Why not?” He lowered his tone to a whisper. “Didn’t you like me?”
“Oh, I liked you. And that is precisely why I had to challenge you. I wanted to keep you interested.” She looped her hands around his neck. “Did it work?”
“I was interested.”
“Was?” She pouted.
“I was interested back then.” He kissed her. “Now, I am spellbound.”
“Just the way I like you,” she murmured.
He moved over her and kissed her again. Perfectly willing to abandon the discussion of the gate, she sank back and set about freeing the buttons of his waistcoat. Impatient, he tore at the thing. Buttons went flying about the bed, but Niall ignored them, focusing instead on a long, slow caress that started at her ankle and trailed upward, rucking her night rail high and banishing any further worry from her mind.
*
Kara woke early the next morning. Dawn was just a hint of pink in the sky outside her window. Rolling over, she found the other side of the bed empty. She sat up. “Niall?”
His spot beside her was still slightly warm, but he wasn’t to be found in her rooms or his. A niggle of worry set her to dressing. All that talk of the gate last night, and now this. The last time he’d stayed out so late and left so early—when he wasn’t deeply involved in a project in the forge—it was because he’d been patrolling the grounds, watching for trouble.
Surely they had not been home long enough for trouble to find them? Perhaps he’d begun work on Mr. Blundel’s gates. She finished shrugging into one of her simple laboratory gowns and went to check the forge.
It was cold and closed. Unease settled in her belly. She headed for the lab. It was still locked. Turner hadn’t yet sent anyone out to light the fires. She let herself in and stood in the cool dark a moment, breathing in the slightly metallic scent of one of her favorite places in the world. Once her eyes had adjusted, she moved to the first hearth, the one near her workbenches. Luckily, the fire had been laid out already. It took her a moment or two to get it going, but once it was starting to crackle, she moved on to the second, near the table and chairs where she and Niall often breakfasted together.
In the growing but dim light, she noticed something sitting on the table. A box—the sort that might come from a bakery. Perhaps Turner had been out here after all?
A thought—more a memory, really—occurred to her. Her heart began to pound.
She approached the table slowly. Carefully. Reaching out a hand, she flipped the box open.
Butter biscuits.
Her stomach dropped.
The laboratory door opened and she crouched, bracing herself for a fight.
“Kara?”
“Niall,” she said in relief.
He heard it in her tone and came quickly. He searched her face and then noticed the opened box. He only looked puzzled—but then understanding flashed. “Are those—”
“Yes.”
“From—”
“Yes.” Fear and resentment rose within her. They mingled to make her feel physically ill. But she straightened her back and pushed them aside with a wave of determination. “I think we had better call Wooten.”
The door creaked again, and they both spun to face it.
“Here you both are.” Turner sounded as relieved as she felt. “You are needed in the main house. Inspector Wooten has arrived.”
*
The inspector sighed and held up a hand. Wooten was a familiar figure. A tall man with a kind face and unusually long arms, he had been helpful when Kara was wrongly accused of a murder that took place at the Great Exhibition. Niall liked the man. They had worked with him on and off since then. Right now he wore an expression of slight exasperation that they had pulled from him more than once before.
“Hold just a moment.” Reaching into his pocket, the inspector pulled out the notebook they had seen him use numerous times on other cases. “You tell me what has put you both in a tizzy, then I will share my news.”
“Oh dear. Our apologies, Inspector Wooten,” Kara said, contrite. “We’ve set upon you with barely a civil greeting. It is good to see you again, sir. I see Turner has made sure you have tea.”
“I’ve sent for a tray of crumpets as well, Your Grace,” Turner said.
Hang the tea and crumpets. Niall wanted to shout it. Petra Scot was back, and he had a cold knot of dread sitting in his chest.
Wooten sat poised, waiting.
“Petra Scot.” Kara drew a deep breath. “She’s been here. At Bluefield.”
“What?” A gasp came from the parlor door, where Gyda stood, with Stayme trying to push past her.
“Come in, come in.” Niall beckoned them. “We are all in this up to our necks, and it will save time trying to repeat everything later.” He knew he sounded irritable, but it was nothing to how he felt.
“It started yesterday, with Stayme.” He nodded as the viscount took the armchair by the fire. “Tell them.”
Stayme told his tale with dramatic flourish. Wooten, used to the old man, merely let him go on, taking notes all the while. He asked a couple of questions, then turned to Kara. “Now, tell me about this morning.”
“Last night,” Kara corrected him. “Niall, tell him about the gate.”
Niall explained. Wooten made notes again.
Kara took up the tale. “Then, this morning, I went to my lab and found a box of butter biscuits waiting for me on the table.”
Gyda grasped the significance even faster than Niall had. “Not from Eliassen’s?”
Kara nodded, and Gyda looked grim.
“It wasn’t you who left them there?” Wooten looked to Turner, who shook his head. “Or the cook?”
“No one from our staff has been in the lab since the duke and duchess departed on their trip,” the butler assured him.
“The biscuits are significant because they came from Eliassen’s Bakery, where I first met Petra face to face,” Kara told the inspector. “She tried them on my recommendation.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “And on the night that she was captured, I arrived at her lair with a box of them to leave as a calling card.”
“You mean, before all hell broke loose and you burned the place down and dismantled her entire organization,” Wooten said dryly.
Kara shrugged.
“She’s playing with us,” Niall growled.
“Wait,” Gyda protested. “I thought she was spotted in Vienna not so long ago?”
“We don’t believe she was there for long,” Wooten said. “She has not been welcomed abroad. Her former allies have labeled her a failure and abandoned her and her League of Dissolution. She has found no place to land, it seems, and has been chased out of several spots in Europe. We know she is definitely back in England now, though.”
“And likely in a temper,” muttered Stayme.
“Just so,” agreed Wooten. “It’s why I came to warn you. Since her escape, her road has been rocky and treacherous.” He glanced at Niall, then at Kara. “You two are high on her list of people to blame. We cannot know if she came back for vengeance, but I think we must act as if she has.”
“If your people have spotted her, why hasn’t she been picked up?” Gyda asked tartly.
“She is slippery,” Wooten said on a sigh. “But we are looking for her. It should not be long before we have her. She’s burned as many bridges here as she has abroad.”
“Which means she might be getting desperate,” Niall bit out. “It will only make her more dangerous.”
“You are right.” Wooten sounded solemn. “I wanted to tell you all to be careful. You are all already gathered here. Perhaps you should stay here together for a few days.”
“She’s already breached Bluefield’s defenses once,” Stayme griped.
“It won’t happen again,” Niall vowed.
“I trust that it won’t.” Wooten sounded damnably calm. “Stay here. Stay alert.”
“What about William Barnstaple?” asked Kara. The man had been Petra’s second-in-command when she was wreaking havoc with the League of Dissolution. “You believed he was the one who freed her from government custody, didn’t you? Perhaps she is collaborating with him again.”
“We’ve seen no sign of him since her escape. If he is in England, then he is well hidden.”
“Which raises the question—why is she not well hidden as well?” Kara asked. “Certainly, she has the skills for it. Why flounce about and let us know she is back?”
“Because she wants us to know she is coming,” Niall answered grimly. “She wants her revenge, and she’s telling us she’s started the game.”
“It’s hardly a game,” objected Kara.
“To her it is,” Gyda chimed in. “We’ve already beaten her at it once. We’ll do it again.”
Niall hoped like hell that she was right. He stood. “Turner, gather the footmen. I’m going to set up a schedule so that someone is always on watch. Kara, have the housekeeper ready some rooms. We will need a few extra men.”
A knock sounded on the parlor door. “Excuse me, Your Grace.” Tom, the underbutler, looked pale when Niall yanked it open. “But this has just been discovered fixed to the front door.” He held out a folded paper.
“Just now?” Niall asked, taking it. He opened it and read what was written inside. Anger bloomed on his face. He thrust the paper back to Kara and pushed past Tom, heading for the front of the house.
He heard Kara read the finely printed message out loud.
Enjoy your biscuits.
While you may.
Niall was already moving toward the front door, but he heard Wooten speak. “It wasn’t on the door when I was admitted.”
The inspector was on his heels in moments. “She might not have placed it there, herself,” he said as Niall yanked the door open.
Niall gazed over the empty drive and carefully tended grounds. “Perhaps not,” he said quietly. “But either she or one of her minions stood right here, just moments ago. While were sipping our damned tea.”
“She’s goading you.”
“It’s working.” He sighed. “I’m going out to scout around, but I already know I won’t find anything. You should go back to the parlor, Wooten. Tell them I’ll return shortly.” He paused. “We brought you and Mrs. Wooten something back from Oslo. Kara will wish to present it to you before you go. Please keep us updated. We will do the same.” He strode out.
Niall moved quickly, searching amongst the outbuildings and gardens and along the wooded sections of the estate. As expected, he found no sign of an intruder.
Such a short time, but he’d already become used to living without the weight of secrets and dread. Now they felt twice as heavy as he shouldered the burden again. But shoulder them he would. Petra Scot may have made the first move in her game of vengeance, but Niall meant to win.