Mr. Dandy stared down at her, the heft of his not insignificant body pressing on her sternum. She could feel the swish of his bushy tail in the sway of his body. His nails pricked her skin through her night-rail.
The cat appeared to be sizing her up, whether to plot his rise to power or merely procure Leah for a meal, she could hardly say.
Either way, Mr. Dandelion McFluffles was morelionthandandyand clearly wished to impress the point upon her.
Her pulse slowly returning to normal, Leah grunted and pushed the cat off her. Mr. Dandy clung to the counterpane for a moment before jumping onto the floor. Leah frowned, staring at the closed door to her room.
How had the dratted cat slipped into her bedchamber?
As if hearing the question, he peered over his shoulder at her. And then, in an answer to it, he leapt up and used his front paws to grab the door handle. The weight of his body released the latch.
The door swung open and Mr. Dandy sauntered out, bushy tail held high in mockery.
Leah closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her chest.
Well, at least one aspect of life at Laverloch was no mystery:
That cat was a weesleekitbastard, toying with them, one and all.
13
Leah’s thoughts returned to Mr. Dandy the next day.
“Madeline is gone again, Mrs. Carnegie,” Bethany said, tone resigned.
Leah had promoted the lass to nursemaid, but like everyone else, Bethany struggled to keep track of her wayward charge.
Stifling a sigh, Leah stepped back from the silver she was currently inventorying with William.
Truly.
Madeline disappeared nearly every afternoon. Would this never end?
“I dinnae know where she gets herself off tae,” Bethany continued. “’Tis a mystery how thoroughly she can vanish and then reappear.”
“Rally the maids to look for her.” Leah pulled off her apron.
“Shall I tell the captain?”
Leah paused, unsure which version of her husband occupied the castle today. “No, let’s not disturb the captain until we must.”
Bethany ran off and Leah followed, only to come to a stop in the great hall, hands on her hips, thinking.
Madelinehadto be escaping to the same place when she disappeared. She vanished too consistently for it to be otherwise. But given the age of the castle, there could be any number of bolt holes.
Unless . . .
Leah surveyed the great hall. The room was slowly coming to life. Footmen had beaten, cleaned, and rehung the antique tapestries. The old hemp rug had been removed, the floor freshly oiled, and a beautiful Aubusson carpet laid down. Leah had ordered the antique table and other aged furniture to be retired. A pair of wingback chairs in a cheery tartan now flanked the fireplace. The hall only awaited the arrival of the furniture she had ordered, and it would be transformed into an elegant drawing room.
Spinning in a circle, Leah mentally ran through the layout of the castle. Laverloch wasn’t so large—not like the grand estates one heard of in England. And Scotland had never had a history of priest holes or other such hideaways.
No, instead Scotland had . . .
A thought sparked.
Leah scanned the great hall once more, eyes drawing upward, examining the edge where the walls met the plastered ceiling. She squinted at a point to the right of the fireplace.
Was that a darker hollow beneath the plasterwork?
