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“M rs. Johnstone, you really must see the interior of the house,” Macie said as she adjusted her tripod, setting it level on the uneven pavers near the house’s massive front steps. “You’re welcome to explore as much as you’d like.”

“Especially the library.” Nell’s eyes lit with interest. “The scene of the crime.”

“How very dramatic.” Macie frowned for effect. “I don’t find that at all humorous.”

“But unfortunately, it is indeed accurate,” Mrs. Johnstone said.

A hint of a smile tugged at Nell’s mouth. “Once you’ve looked about, you may develop some insight into what occurred.”

“I have some experience in these matters,” Mrs. Johnstone said with a serious air. “I am particularly interested in the volumes Professor Smythson had been searching.”

“I do hope you can find some clue as to what he was seeking.” Macie fiddled with the angle of her camera. With any luck, she’d have precious minutes without interruption once Nell and Mrs. Johnstone immersed themselves in their investigation.

“Give me time, my dear.” Mrs. Johnstone’s flicker of a smile told her she’d read her expression. “Give me time.”

“Come with me.” Nell flashed a little grin. “And do watch for the spirits who roam this place.”

“Ah, a spectral encounter. One can only hope.” Brimming with excitement, Mrs. Johnstone followed Nell inside.

Macie positioned her camera to capture the large stone lions who stood silent guard over the place. Gazing into the lens, a ripple of awareness crept over her nape. She turned to face the unpleasant man who’d claimed an acquaintance with her grandfather.

“Mr. Neville,” she uttered as a terse greeting. “What brings you here today?”

He regarded her for a long moment without speaking. Appearing on edge, he tugged the brim of his hat lower. Odd, given the clouds and lack of glare. “Might we speak privately, Miss Mason?”

She squared her shoulders. “I see no need. My position on your interest in my grandfather’s books and papers has not changed.”

Mr. Neville shook his head. “Miss Mason, this is a matter of dire consequence. It requires... discretion.”

“Discretion, is it?” She cocked a brow. “I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I have no intention of selling so much as a scrap of old newspaper from my grandfather’s collection.”

“You must hear me out.” He lowered his voice to scarcely more than a whisper. “You must listen. Your grandfather—”

“Please, do not tarnish my grandfather’s memory by bringing him into this conversation.”

“I had to come.” His breath came in sputters. “Andrew would’ve trusted me to help you.”

To help me. Goodness, was the man ill? Or suffering delusions? She detected a faint odor of spirits on his breath. But the drawn expression on Mr. Neville’s face was not the result of too much liquor. The lines of concern seemed all too genuine. As was the fear in his eyes.

She moved closer. “Mr. Neville, you don’t look well.”

“No. Not unwell. But not... not much time.” He bit the words between his teeth. “Your grandfather trusted me... with his research. I must have his papers.”

She squared her shoulders. “I will not part with so much as a single document.”

“Miss Mason, I need that research.” Reaching for her, he caught her hands between his leather-gloved palms. “You don’t know what you have.”

She pulled away from his hold. “I’ve heard quite enough.”

He glanced about, seeming to search the street. As he turned back to her, he pressed a hand to his chest. To his heart. “You must listen to me.”

“Mr. Neville, you look unwell.”

Pulling in a labored breath, he dabbed his brow with his pocket square. “You must heed what I say.”

His hands were trembling. He needed help. “You are not well,” Macie said firmly. “I must find—”

The rattle of carriage wheels over the cobbles startled her. Macie’s words caught in her throat. Moving swiftly, the elegant black coach appeared as though it might actually bound over the curb.

As the carriage slowed to a stop, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Her brows knitted with questions, Mrs. Johnstone called down to her. “Is there a problem?”

The old man caught her hands again, his hold startlingly firm. “It may be too late for me,” he said with a lack of emotion, as if he’d resolved to face whatever it was he feared. Turning away, he headed to the carriage. Pausing before the coach, he cast her a lingering glance. “If you will not listen to me, Miss Mason, I can no longer protect you.”

*

Macie retreated to the small garden terrace behind her townhouse. The sun was low in the sky, its rays warm and refreshing. Cleo sashayed close behind, the cat’s tail at a jaunty angle as she surveyed the garden with a bright-eyed excitement.

Inhaling the aroma of fresh lavender and fragrant roses, Macie smiled to herself as a bee flitted energetically from one blossom to the next, not a care in the world. She crossed the small courtyard to her favorite plant, a beautiful tea rose with coral pink buds nearly ready to bloom.

The cat sauntered about, then took a spot on a garden bench. Stretching out her body, she nearly covered the surface.

“Cleo, you do know how to stake your claim, don’t you?” Swishing her skirts to the side, Macie made herself comfortable on the cement bench across from where her pet luxuriously basked in the sun.

Determined to clear her thoughts, Macie drank in the sights and smells that served as tonic for her weary mind. Usually, a few moments with her flowers and greenery and sunlight were all it took for her to relax and push away her worries, if only for a time. But after a few minutes alone with her thoughts, she could not deny, especially to herself, that her encounter with Mr. Neville had rattled her. In fact, she suspected an entire hothouse full of roses would not have done the trick.

“Do ye mind if I join ye?” Mrs. Johnstone strolled from the house, carrying a silver tray with cups and a pitcher of iced tea.

“Please, do,” Macie said.

Mrs. Johnstone set the tray down beside Macie and poured each of them a drink. She turned to the bench Cleo had claimed and gently nudged the none-too-happy cat just enough to clear a space for herself. If a cat could scowl, Cleo was certainly doing just that.

“Ye were a bit quiet in the carriage,” Mrs. Johnstone began. “I could not help but hear a bit of what the old man said. Did he upset ye?”

“He was not well. I am concerned about him.” Macie took a sip of cool tea. “Honestly, I suspect he was in his cups, but there was something else... something that left me uneasy.”

“He implied he’d been protecting ye,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “Why would he think such a thing?”

“I truly don’t know. Mr. Neville has made it clear that he wishes to obtain my grandfather’s collection, including his research. This afternoon, he said something rather peculiar.” Macie set her teacup on the bench. “He told me I don’t know what I have.”

Mrs. Johnstone’s forehead crinkled. “I’ve heard that yer grandfather donated many of the most valuable artifacts before his death. There wasn’t much left, was there?”

“Most of what remained after he passed away was bequeathed to museums from Wales to the Highlands. I told Mr. Neville as much upon our first meeting. Perhaps he was not convinced.”

“Ye should seek a full appraisal of the remaining artifacts.”

“An excellent suggestion.” Gathering her thoughts, Macie stared down at the precise pattern of bricks beneath their feet. “The old gent has not inquired about the sculptures and vases and such. He’s far more interested in Grandpapa’s library. Especially his research. And there is something else—something the man said that seemed rather odd.”

“What was it, Macie?”

“He said it might be too late for him.” Picturing the look on his face, she pulled in a breath. “At first, I thought he was referring to getting his hands on whatever it was he wanted. But when I looked into Mr. Neville’s eyes, I saw fear.”

“How very troubling,” Mrs. Johnstone said in a no-nonsense tone. “I shall have to ask about town and ferret out what the man’s story truly is.”

The door to the garden opened, and Mrs. Tuttle came onto the terrace. “I do hope I’m not interrupting, but you have a guest. He says his name’s Aylesworth, and he’s of the opinion you will wish to speak with him.”

“Indeed,” Macie perked up at the news. “Please, do show him in.”

Moments later, Macie greeted the professor as he joined them in the garden. “Good afternoon. What a pleasant surprise.”

As he offered greetings in turn, Cleo fixed him with a curious gaze. Stretched out to her full length on a chaise, the cat regarded him with a look of feline annoyance.

“I know my visit here was unexpected, but I needed to speak with you,” Professor Aylesworth said. “There was no time for formalities and protocol.”

“Think nothing of it,” Macie replied. “Formalities and protocol are highly overrated.”

“I thought you might see it that way,” he said. “I wanted to discuss my upcoming journey to Athens. There is a strong possibility that I may be able to bring you along to document the expedition.”

“How very exciting.” Macie’s pulse beat a bit faster. “Of course, I do have my work here in the city.”

“I’m willing to arrange the timing in such a way that you may finish preparing for your planned exhibition.”

Mrs. Johnstone gave a strategic little cough. “Am I to understand ye’re suggesting that Miss Mason—an unmarried woman—travel with a contingent of researchers to another country?”

“It goes without saying that she would be accompanied by a companion. A woman of experience and maturity.” The grin he flashed could melt the sternest of hearts. “Perhaps a woman like you, Mrs. Johnstone.”

“Oh, dear. How I would treasure another opportunity to see Athens,” she said, her tone surprisingly wistful.

“Very good,” he said. “We shall see what arrangements can be made.”

“Professor, this all so very unexpected,” Macie said. “Before our conversation, the possibility had never entered my mind.”

“Your expertise would be a true asset to our research, Miss Mason.”

She met his warm gaze. Peter Aylesworth was an accomplished scholar, a man her grandfather had held in high regard. And now, he’d proposed a golden opportunity.

By all rights, she should be giddy with excitement. Yet the thought of leaving London twisted Macie’s emotions into knots. This was all so very sudden. She’d come to thrive in the bustling city. There was so much for her to see. So many fascinating locations and intriguing people to portray with her camera. Could she leave it all behind, even for a few months?

Oh, you can tell yourself that’s why you don’t want to leave .

As Finn’s oh-so-appealing grin flashed in her thoughts, she had to admit the truth. At least to herself. The prospect of parting from him—especially now, when she was coming to know the real man behind the tempting smile—well, that was another story, entirely. How could she put aside the longings of her heart?

“I understand my proposal is rather audacious,” Professor Aylesworth went on. “But I’m confident you will find the experience rewarding.”

“It is audacious, isn’t it?” Macie agreed. “But also quite exciting. I shall give the matter serious consideration.”

“Excellent, Miss Mason.” He raked his fingers through his straight dark hair. “I do not wish to hurry your decision, but the plan has changed. Time is of the essence.”

“Is it, now?”

He gave a solemn nod. “I am expected to leave for Athens within a fortnight. I should be able to delay my departure for a few additional days if that would allow you to make arrangements to accompany the team.”

“My, that is rather soon.” Macie took it all in. “I will inform you of my decision without delay.”

“I do hold hope the answer will be ‘yes.’” The professor frowned as Cleo leapt from her perch. The cat crept up to him, her expression both wary and exceedingly curious.

Macie grinned. “I think she likes you.”

As Cleo brushed against the professor’s trousers, he quirked a brow. “Do you, now?”

“Professor Aylesworth, I have perused yer latest research,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “We share an interest in ancient cultures. I find the history of the Nile Valley particularly fascinating. Have ye considered an expedition to Egypt?”

“I must confess, I’ve never developed a keen interest in the civilization,” he explained.

Mrs. Johnstone lifted a brow. “My, I do find that surprising.”

A slight smile played on his lips as he threw Cleo a glance. “Too many cats.”

“Oh, dear,” Macie said lightly. “Not an aficionado?”

He shrugged. “When I was a lad, my family owned hounds. I understand their motivations far better than those of felines. Cats display a certain aloofness, wouldn’t you say?”

“Most definitely,” she agreed.

“This cat is a fitting pet for you. Intelligent. Observant. And fiercely independent.”

“I consider that a high compliment.”

“Indeed.” He moved to the door. “Miss Mason, I do have another request. Before I depart for Greece, I would like to review your grandfather’s journals. His research has served as an inspiration for my own endeavors.”

“Of course. Grandpapa would be pleased to know you continue to value his work.”

“ Value is putting it mildly,” he said. “I have no doubt I will find precisely what I need within those pages.”

*

Before Finn had a chance to ring the bell to announce his arrival at Macie’s townhouse, the door opened with a groan of its hinges. The housekeeper, a woman whose expression seemed fixed in an ever-present frown whenever he was in her presence, looked even more sour than usual.

“You might’ve used the servant’s entrance, as we agreed,” Mrs. Tuttle said, tersely, as if the words pained her to speak.

“And miss the sight of yer smiling face?”

“Ye must be confusing me with someone else,” she said in a flat voice, though a touch of cheek brightened her eyes.

“Never,” he said with a shake of his head. “Ye’re an original, Mrs. Tuttle.”

“That I am.” Her expression softened. “Miss Macie’s in the garden. With the she-devil and the bird wit who fancies herself a coquette.”

“She-devil, eh?” He scratched his chin, debating whether to suggest dragon in its place. “Ye’ve had prior experience with Mrs. Johnstone, haven’t ye?”

“Experience?” Mrs. Tuttle waved away the word. “Misfortune is more like it. Quite some time ago, my dear sister was employed by the she-devil and her husband. Bess suffered an injury to her foot, so I came to assist. Worst five weeks of my life, I tell you.” She scowled. “The woman runs a household like a captain commands a ship. So precise and perfect.”

“I do understand,” he said with a little grin.

“Will you be dining with Miss Macie tonight?”

“Ye know I would not pass up a chance to eat yer cooking,” he said.

“Flattery comes natural to rogues, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Tuttle flashed a wry grin.

“Actually, it’s a required course of study,” he said with a quick smile, then headed to the garden.

“Oh, it’s you,” Nell said casually, glancing his way as he stepped through the French doors.

He folded his arms and leaned against a sturdy column. “An enthusiastic greeting if ever I’ve heard one.”

“I was hoping Professor Aylesworth had returned,” Nell said. “Sadly, I missed my chance to speak with him.”

Finn hitched a brow. “Returned?”

“He paid a visit to follow up on an idea he’d mentioned at the ball.” Macie’s tone sounded deliberately bland.

“The professor will soon embark on another research trip to Athens,” Mrs. Johnstone spoke up. “It’s rather exciting.”

“Athens, is it?” He plastered on a thin smile as he turned to Macie. “The destination for the adventure of a lifetime?”

“That might be a bit of an overstatement, but I don’t doubt the trip would prove exciting.”

Finn rubbed the back of his neck, as if that might ease a sudden ache. “It might be just the thing to inspire another exhibit.”

“I imagine it would,” she said a bit too primly.

“I’d be delighted to accompany you,” Nell said. “And perhaps, to become better acquainted with the professor.”

Macie regarded her friend with a weary expression. “With any luck, you will not be napping if he pays another visit.”

“I had no way of knowing he would pop in,” Nell said.

“Indeed,” Finn said. “It’s not as if it was an ordinary occurrence.”

“Quite true, Mr. Caldwell,” Nell agreed. “Actually, very little that has occurred in recent days has been ordinary.”

“Speaking of ordinary occurrences—we were not expecting you so soon,” Macie said in an obvious effort to change the subject. “Has anything happened?”

“I have uncovered new information on the other professor—the dead one.”

Macie’s eyes widened. “Have you now?”

“My inquiries have turned up some curious facts.” Finn took a seat on a concrete bench and stretched out his legs. “As it turns out, Professor Smythson had been in London for some time now. He was well-known in the city. But not for his scholarly pursuits.”

“What are you saying?” Macie asked.

“He left Scotland nearly three years ago. The man had resigned his position at the university following some sort of scandal.”

“A scandal?” Mrs. Johnstone’s interest seemed to perk up. “Of what nature?”

“He was accused of falsifying certain documents in his research.”

“Do you know what type of documents?” Mrs. Johnstone pressed.

He shook his head. “After he left Scotland, he forged a connection with London’s antiquities dealers. Until his past caught up to him.”

“Oh, dear, how dreadful,” Nell said sympathetically.

“After that, he was known to frequent taverns, bemoaning the bitter turn his life had taken to anyone with a listening ear,” Finn went on. “Murray at the Rogue’s Lair recalled the man being deep in his cups, railing against the injustices he’d suffered.”

Macie looked skeptical. “So, am I to understand you’ve gleaned this information from barkeeps about town?

“That was a starting point,” he explained. “From there, I called in some favors. Ye’d be surprised how much ye can learn about a man in pubs and gambling dens.”

Mrs. Johnstone sat up straighter. “Gambling dens, you say?”

“My sources tell me Professor Smythson had a fondness for wagering. Unfortunately, his luck did not match his enthusiasm.”

Mrs. Johnstone nodded her agreement. “His gambling might have been the root of the scandal. At least in part.”

Macie’s brow creased with fine lines of concern. “None of explains his connection with my grandfather.”

Finn plowed his hand through his hair. Bloody hell, he wished he had the answers she needed. “I found nothing that linked him with yer grandfather. But I’m still searching.”

Her mouth thinned. “Thank you.”

“We will puzzle this out, Macie.” As Cleo jumped onto the bench and stretched into a leisurely sprawl beside him, he rubbed the cat behind her ears, receiving a bliss-filled purr in response. “That much, I can promise ye.”