“It was nothing, really,” she said, flicking a hand at its insignificance before fussing with her gown. “He merely inquired if I’d had occasion to meet the captain, and when I said that I had, he wondered aloud if there were truly a resemblance between you and he, and of course I said not that I had particularly noticed, and then he made some mention of things gone missing last summer and wondered if I had, perchance, heard of a bit of thievery among their staff, to which I replied straightaway I had not, even if that were not entirely true—”
“What are ye saying?” Grif demanded. “What has any of that to do with whether or no’ I resemble the captain?”
She shrugged very lightly. Looked at the window. Then at the carpet.
“Anna?”
“I suppose he thinks that the items went missing about the same time your brother took his leave of London.”
“Mi Diah!” he cried. “What was it he said had gone missing?” he demanded, horrified now, frantically trying to grasp what Lockhart thought he knew.
Anna looked at the clock on the mantel, shrugged again. “Just a few little things that led them to believe a parlormaid and a footman were stealing from them. They were dismissed straightaway, of course, and the thievery stopped—” She glanced at Grif. “So I hear. Naturally, I have no firsthand knowledge.”
“What things?” Grif demanded.
She held out her hand and studied her fingernails. “Silver candlesticks. Two silver spoons, I think. And… well, I believe there was something about a horrid little gargoyle thing made of gold and rubies.”
“Ach, for the love of Christ!” Grif exploded to the ceiling.
“Honestly, Grif, they can’t possibly put it all together! How could they?” she cried, springing to her feet now. “I certainly didn’t, and I was there! Of course I will not tell them. I promised you! I gave you my word!”
“All right, then,” he said, calming himself. “And now perhaps ye will see yer way clear to returning what belongs to me and mine. Ye canna deny I’ve held me part of the bargain, and now it is yer turn, Anna! Return it to me! Return it to me ere yer Lockhart discovers what I’m about and bloody well ruins it all!”
“I promise I will,” she said quickly, but held up her forefinger. “But perhaps not quite yet.”
He let loose a string of Gaelic curses that would have sent even the most hardened of Scotsmen running.
Not Anna. She was holding out both hands now, waving them in a desperate attempt to quell his anger. “I don’t mean to keep it forever!”
“Ye donna understand the urgency!”
“Of course I do!”
“No! Ye donna understand what ye do, Anna!”
She recoiled a bit, but kept on. “But…but there… there is the Featherstone weekend, and it’s just a week away, and if everything should go according to plan—”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered.
“If I am successful in wooing him to me, I should know it then, shouldn’t I? And then…well…” Her voice trailed off and she lowered her gaze.
“And then? What then? And God help ye if ye have come up with some reason no’ to honor yer part of the bargain—”
“I will!” she snapped, frowning, and folded her arms defensively.
“Then what?”
“Then I suppose I should give the thing to you!” she all but shouted, and suddenly she sank into the chair, her head down, as if it pained her to say that.
He was immediately suspicious and took two or three halting steps closer to her, cocked his head to one side, and had a look at her. “If Lockhart suspects me, I willna have as much as a week, lass.”
“That’s absurd! Even if he suspects, he can’t possibly prove anything!”
“I have yer word on this?” he asked, his voice softer.
“Yes, of course!”
“Ye’ll return it to me, then. The beastie,” he added, to make doubly sure she knew what this meant to him.
She sighed and looked away. “Straightaway.”
Grif took another step toward her. “So we are in agreement, are we? At the conclusion of this grand Featherstone ball, ye’ll return what rightfully belongs to me and we’ll be done with all this, aye?”
She nodded again, and then she… sniffed. Not as if she were suffering from a spring malady, but a sniff that sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. Grif instantly took a step backward, hopelessly confused, but then stepped forward again, reaching for her—
Anna was suddenly on her feet, walking quickly to the window to peer out onto Cavendish Street. “My sister’s ball will be quite the event!” she said brightly. “They’ve determined to extend the dance floor onto the terrace, and my sister has hired a small orchestra. Lord Featherstone has always hosted a mid-Season ball, as he believes a reprieve from the happenings at Parliament is imperative to the well-being of his peers and his friends, and there will be billiards and cards, although I think after Sir Herman’s unconscionable loss last year, they shall wisely limit the amount the gentlemen may gamble.”
She put her hand to her nape in the way that Grif had come to learn meant she was nervous, and he recognized that she was babbling now.