Elizabeth frowned. “Who have you heard from?”
“First, a Miss Oak, Densmore’s aunt on his mother’s side. She purports to have legal claim over this castle.”
“She does have legal ownership.”
“Does she? Her letters indicated the ‘proof’ was in a will no one has seen.”
“We’d have a spare copy, if a fire at the lawyer’s office hadn’t destroyed his records.”
“Convenient. You’re certain the document existed and reads as she claims?”
“To the letter. My brother spoke to the lawyer himself.”
“I see.” Mr. Lenox drummed his fingers on his sculpted abdomen. “Miss Oak is your client, then, I take it?”
“Yes. Her late sister, Arminia, loved puzzles, and hid the original copy of her will here in the castle for her husband to find.”
Mr. Lenox blinked. “‘Hid’?”
“As if the pages were buried pirate treasure, attainable only by following a series of coded clues… which I unfortunately do not have access to. To solve the puzzle, I’ll have to rely on brute force.”
“You intend to solve a treasure hunt without any clues?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I shall uncover the missing will and present it to Miss Oak this very day. With luck, the late countess hid a copy of the deed with her testament, and you and I will both be gone from this pile by nightfall.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Lenox said noncommittally. “How do you know Densmore didn’t find the will already, and take the testament and the deed with him?”
“Is Densmore the sort of conscientious lord who packs important business documents in his knapsack before fleeing to parts unknown?”
“How certain are you a secret will really exists at all?” Mr. Lenox countered as he swirled his glass. “In my one hundred and four daysof debilitating boredom, at no point in my desperate search for distraction did I come across anything resembling clues to a treasure hunt.”
“The will is definitely here somewhere,” Elizabeth said with absolute confidence. “The countess assured her sister of the fact in writing. Arminiawantedthe testament to be found and her wishes to be fulfilled. She just did so a bit… unconventionally.”
“Hmm” was all Mr. Lenox said. The fingers of his free hand idly brushed the flaps of what had once been a waistcoat pocket.
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry about your stick of chalk. I didn’t mean to destroy it.”
“I have an entire box of chalk,” he assured her, then arched his brows. “You’re not going to apologize for slicing open my clothes?”
She smiled. “I’m not sorry about that.”
“Ill-mannered wench. I’m sorry about drenching you.”
She snorted. “No, you’re not.”
He grinned. “No, I’m not.”
She fought the urge to lean forward and plump up her wet bosom. “You mentioned someone other than Miss Oak has come to call?”
Mr. Lenox let out an aggrieved sigh. “Richard Reddington’s cronies. First, it was lawyer after lawyer. Because I refuse to answer the door or his letters, Reddington has apparently placed a marksman in the strip of woods separating the two properties. Although they ignore the servants, the one timeIstepped outside, I took an arrow to the hat.”
She gasped. “Not your fancy leather monocle helmet!”
“I fear I was wearing an ordinary top hat at the time.”
“It’s still poor sportsmanship,” she huffed.
“Thank you. I felt much the same way.”
