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Bree was just affixing the clasp of my mother’s amethyst pendant, putting the finishing touches on my attire for the evening, when we heard Gage and Anderley bustling about in the adjoining chamber.

I’d begun to wonder what was keeping them and if my husband would even have time to change before dinner.

Bree’s gaze met mine in the mirror as Gage’s frazzled-sounding voice carried through the wall and then the door to the corridor was heard opening and shutting with a resounding click.

“Perhaps you should see if Anderley is in need of assistance,” I suggested as his footsteps hurried down the corridor toward the stairs.

She nodded, exiting as I stood and brushed my hand over the cornflower blue silk bodice of my dinner dress.

Swiveling to the left and then the right, I examined my reflection, liking the way the color of the gown made my eyes sparkle.

It was a relatively simple design, trimmed with white accents across the shoulders and along the skirt.

The sleeves—while still puffed—were slimmer and more manageable.

Crossing the room to the door leading into the adjoining chamber, I rapped once before entering. Gage looked up with a scowl, and while his reaction was not all a wife would hope for from her husband, the remaining sight of him was.

“My, my, what have we here,” I cooed, closing the door behind me and leaning back against the frame to better appreciate his bare torso.

Almost daily rides as well as bouts of fencing and other strenuous activities had given him a marvelous physique.

One that, I admitted, I found endlessly fascinating, from an artist’s perspective as well as a wife’s.

“Whatever you have to say, you’d best make it quick,” he griped. “Anderley will be returning with water soon so that I can wash, and you’ll embarrass him if he finds you here ogling me.” The slight quirk at the corner of his mouth told me he wasn’t as vexed as he seemed.

“Oh, your valet isn’t so shy,” I retorted, pushing away from the door to saunter forward. “Besides, don’t you have a kiss for your wife?”

His pale blue eyes suddenly looked anything but icy as they leisurely slid over my frame, leaving licks of heat wherever they touched. “Not if you don’t want that gown hopelessly rumpled.”

I found myself wishing for a fan to cool my flushed cheeks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he ground out. “Or I’ll do something that will embarrass Anderley.”

I lowered my gaze but then couldn’t resist baiting him by raising it again to murmur, “We could always lock the door.”

When he moved a step toward me, I held up my hands before me, laughing. For we both knew we didn’t have time for what we truly wished to do. Henry and Lord Edward would be arriving within a quarter of an hour.

“What detained you?” I asked, knowing this would divert him. “I expected you home hours ago.”

“Sullivan,” he practically growled.

I arched my eyebrows in query.

“He led us on a wild-goose chase. Knew what he was doing, too. Wasted nearly our entire afternoon.”

I grimaced. “How infuriating.” No wonder he’d been in such a foul mood. What I had to share was not going to make it better.

He scraped a hand back through his hair, making the muscles in his broad shoulders stand out in sharp relief and momentarily distracting me. “What of you? How was your day? Did you finish the preparations for Emma’s birthday?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.” He began opening drawers in the clothespress and pulling out various items he needed.

“Bree also went with me for a stroll.”

“It was a lovely day. I’m glad you weren’t cooped up inside for all of it.”

“And we ran into Bonnie Brock.”

At this, he nearly slammed his fingers in a drawer as he turned to glower at me.

“I didn’t know he was going to be in Queen Street Gardens waiting for me,” I argued.

“Obviously we need tighter security measures,” he muttered to himself as he crossed the room toward the bed, where some of his other clothing items were already laid out.

“He wanted to warn us that Anderley’s presence at the White Horse has been noted.” When he turned to look at me, I arched my eyebrows in emphasis. “By Winstanley’s employees and others.”

“What others?”

I gave him a withering look. “This is Bonnie Brock we’re talking about. Do you honestly think he specified?”

“Of course not,” he said with a sigh, but then nodded after only a few moments’ consideration. “I’ll order Anderley to steer clear.”

I exhaled in relief, glad that I didn’t have to convince him of Bonnie Brock’s trustworthiness.

“What else did he have to say?” he asked as I was turning to leave.

“He thinks Mr. Fletcher should bear greater scrutiny. That he’s masking something.”

“I would have to say I agree.”

“You do?”

He flashed me a self-deprecating smile. “Surprised? I suppose there’s a first time for everything. Even agreeing with Kincaid.”

Before I could reply, the sound of voices in the corridor alerted us to Anderley’s return.

Gage shooed me toward the connecting door with exaggerated motions that told me he was just as aware of how ridiculous the notion was that his valet would be shocked by my presence.

Nevertheless, I complied, laughing as I went.

· · ·

The laughter continued over dinner, as I’d known it must. Lord Edward Kerr was nothing if not a wag, forever jesting and making light of things that perhaps should not be made light of.

But he did it with such charm, such insouciance, that he was able to get away with it.

This, among other things, made him a popular dinner companion.

Of course, his being a duke’s son also helped, though it was all but openly acknowledged that, like Henry, the man who sired him was not actually the duke.

I knew that Henry was fond of Ned, as he called him. And Ned was fond of and protective of Henry, who was seven years his junior. That was all that was needed to endear him to me, despite his sometimes devilish antics.

By the time we retired to the drawing room, my side actually ached from laughing so much.

Since I was the only lady present, the men had declined to take their port in the dining room and had instead joined me with their postprandial drinks.

I had also chosen to forgo tea in favor of a glass of sherry.

Henry passed this to me as he sat beside me on the walnut settee upholstered in daffodil silk. “Sebastian tells me there’s a bit of a brangle over how you received an invitation to the auction. That you were right to be concerned.”

“What’s this?” Lord Edward demanded to know, sinking into one of the adjoining giltwood armchairs.

Gage briefly explained the situation as he poured himself a glass of whisky.

“How mysterious,” Lord Edward exclaimed before taking a drink. His eyes widened as he appeared to savor the age. “Is this from Cromarty’s distillery?”

Gage nodded, having taken his own sip.

“I shall have to beg a bottle or two from him,” he proclaimed, downing another finger of the amber liquid. “But back to Kiera’s problem.”

“I don’t know that it is a problem,” I demurred. “But it’s certainly a question I’d like answered.”

“Did you have a chance today to look over the guest list to see if there’s anyone you think might have forwarded their invitation to you?” Gage asked.

“I did. And I suppose there are a few names that are possibilities. I’ll write to them and ask. But I don’t really expect any of them to admit to it.”

“Maybe it was just someone making mischief?” Henry suggested, endeavoring to ease my mind.

“If that’s the case, then perhaps I should have you and your brother glance over the list. For the only one on it who I know enough about to consider them capable of such a thing is Sir James Riddell. Yet I hadn’t made his acquaintance until the first day we attended the auction.”

“Sir James Riddell, hmm?” Lord Edward ruminated. There was a tone to his voice that was less than complimentary.

“You know him?” I inquired.

“We’ve met,” he replied somewhat obliquely, rolling his glass between his fingers and studying the way it caught the light. “But I would say it’s more that I know of him.”

“And what do you know ?” Gage asked, catching on to his dramatics.

Lord Edward flashed a smile at him before abruptly sobering. “Word is his men were rather brutal when they cleared two clachans on his land.”

Gage crossed one leg over the other knee, settling deeper into the matching giltwood armchair. “What’s a clachan?”

“A small village of mostly tiny cottages owned by farmers or fishermen,” Henry replied. “They’re dotted all over the Highlands.” He frowned. “Or they were.”

“Many landowners have forced the inhabitants to leave so that they can use their land for grazing sheep and other livestock,” I supplied. “Though some have been more kind and accommodating about it than others.”

Lord Edward scoffed. “Well, ‘kind and accommodating’ is not how Sir James’s tenants would describe him.

When they wouldn’t vacate quickly enough for his liking, allegedly, his men shot some of their dogs and goats and drove away their livestock.

And when that wasn’t enough, Sir James had their roofs removed.

In the middle of winter, mind you.” He leaned forward, his expression grim.

“But the worst of it was when his men seized a simpleminded woman who refused to depart and locked her in her cottage. Bricked her in from the outside and wouldn’t let her out—or let anyone bring her food—until she agreed to vacate. ”

“That’s barbaric,” I exclaimed, and I could tell Henry and Gage agreed. Their shock and disgust were evident.

Lord Edward sat back, brandishing his glass. “If anyone was the intended victim of that floor collapse, I’d put Sir James forward as a good candidate. That is, if any of his former tenants had a mind for revenge and found their way to Edinburgh.”

It was worth considering.