He’d take it as a compliment coming from a woman like her. “Connor MacKintosh. And ye are?”
She drew herself up as if she were Queen Victoria’s giddy aunt. “You question me in my own home? I am the Marchioness of Aylesbury.”
“That so?” Connor rocked back on his heels, summoning the most pugnaciously skeptical demeanor he could muster. He was aching for a fight, ready to give it to anyone at the moment. “Strange, ye dinnae in any manner resemble my sister, whose new husband assured me now holds that same title.”
“Dowager marchioness,” she bit out, flushing in the most unbecoming fashion.
Connor nodded slowly—understanding much more than before—but maintained his doubtful expression. “Aye, well, neither the actual marchioness or the marquis are in residence at the moment, though I expect them soon enough. I’ll see ye to the door. I’m confident they’ll welcome ye wi’ open arms once they return.”
In long steps, he went to her side, caught her elbow, and even managed to propel her toward the front door before she stiffened in protest. Much to his surprise. It would have been entertaining to have seen her to the front stoop first and locked the door behind her. Alas, he was denied such amusement.
“Take your hands from me before I see you arrested,” she harped, regaining her arm with a jerk. He released her immediately, sending her off balance. He made no move to steady her as she righted herself. “I am going nowhere, you heathen.”
“Then mayhap I shall be the one to summon the constable,” he offered mildly. “We’ve recently become quite good friends.”
“You…you!”
Connor left her blustering in the foyer and strode toward the servants’ hall with a flick of his wrist toward the hovering footman, and a more polite summons for Mrs. Davies that had them both scurrying after him.
“The harpy?”
“Lady Celeste Brudenall Addington, currently Viscountess of Sedmouth, formerly Marchioness of Aylesbury,” the housekeeper told him as she trotted along at his side. “She arrived this morning without warning. The marquis, that is Lord Harrison Brudenall, banned her from the property some years ago, though she’s visited a time or two. She shouldn’t be here and is well aware of the fact.”
“Then why is she? To find Piper?”
Mrs. Davies glanced at him askance, plainly curious how much he knew. “She has never assumed as much.”
The footman hurried alongside of him and spoke low. “I saw her eyeing the silver tea service, my lor—er, sir. Before that, she tried the door to the marquis’s private office.”
Connor’s brows shot up. “Ye think she means to abscond wi’ the silver?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” the housekeeper bit out. “She’s tried to slip out with valuable goods before. If she’s heard gossip that his lordship intends to reside here permanently…”
“She might take one last shot at robbery?”
Both servants shrugged as if they wouldn’t be surprised.
Her greed knows no bounds.
Piper’s words ricocheted through his mind. The fortunes of two husbands tied up in knots, leaving her mother in a bit of a conundrum. That was more than two years ago.
How far would desperation drive her?
“Put a guard on her,” he commanded, slashing a hand downward. “Dinnae let her leave wi’out a thorough search. Do what ye can to hasten her departure, though. I’ll no’ have my sister come home to this.”
He hastened his pace, leaving them behind.
“My lord, there’s one more thing.”
“No’ now, Mrs. Davies.”
“Where are you going?” she called out.
Surely it was a rhetorical question.
Connor shook his head. His destination had to be easy enough to guess, even for the simplest of minds.
Och, simple minds.
