“Is that so?” Jeanne said.
“And you like that particular piece?” Arabella asked, nodding back at the horse painting.
“Yes,” she replied, noting a small smile curve across Arabella’s mouth. “Is that amusing?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that that painting happens to be one of my brother’s favorites.”
Faith’s smile vanished.
“Is it? I didn’t know Mr. Harris enjoyed art.”
“‘Enjoy’ is hardly the correct word. Logan isobsessed,” Arabella said, leaning forward and wiggling her brows in an exaggerated way as Faith sat down. A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder echoed throughout the room. “This storm is relentless.”
Faith glanced out of the cathedral windows, outlined in the same white marble as the arches.
“It does seem so. I hate to think how we will travel home.”
“Oh, but you mustn’t go,” Arabella said, frowning. “The winds are too violent. It would be safer to stay the night.”
“Oh no, I shouldn’t want to impose.”
“I insist.”
“But—”
Just then, the old man twisted and snorted.
“Hmm?” he said loudly before his eyes opened.
A faint blush shone on the bridge of Arabella’s nose as she stood up.
“Forgive my father. He’s not been terribly well recently,” she said quietly as she approached him. “Papa? Papa, we have guests.”
“Hmm? Oh, beg pardon,” he said, shifting in his chair.
He was a fair-haired man with sunken cheeks and dark eyes. There was a strange quality about him that Faith noticed immediately. He seemed far older than she would guess him to be, yet she couldn’t say what it was about him that gave that impression.
His dark gaze landed on Faith, and his brows perked up as he wiggled himself to sit up straight.
“Come now, who is this?”
“This is Miss Faith Sharpe, Papa. Lady Belle’s niece,” Arabella said, looking at Faith. “She lives in Lismore Hall, across the loch.”
“Is that so? Belle’s niece?” he said, leaning forward. “Lady Belle Smyth?”
“Yes, Sir Logan,” Faith said, dipping her chin. “A pleasure to meet you.”
But the man smirked and looked at his daughter.
“Did she call me sir?”
Arabella’s face became suddenly drawn.
“Oh, um, a misunderstanding, Papa.”
Faith bit the inside of her cheek. Hadn’t the servant called him Sir Logan?
“And English,” he said, interrupting Faith’s thoughts as his face lit up. “Well, what a lucky day indeed.”
