“Is that so?” Hope said, turning to Faith. “How kind of Mr. Harris.”
“Yes, and I should like to inspect it at once. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, leaving the dining room in haste.
Faith followed Evans, Andrews, and the footmen up the staircase as they carefully carried the painting to her room, which overlooked a swan pond that Aunt Belle had installed years prior. Once they set the work of art up against the far wall, Faith thanked them as they began to file out, resuming some previous discussion.
“…Shall we alert Mr. MacKinnon about Sir Logan going after that curious character, then, Evans?” a footman asked over his shoulder to the butler.
“Yes, immediately,” he answered, giving Faith one last nod. “Good day, my lady.”
“Oh, um, Mr. MacKinnon is out, I’m afraid,” she said as the butler and footmen paused. “He went out this morning to trail a thief.”
“A thief, my lady?”
“Yes. My horse, Sweetness, was taken during the night.”
The butler’s dark eyes widened slightly.
“Is that so?” he asked before turning to the footmen. “We have to return to Harris House at once.”
A pebble of worry settled in Faith’s stomach as she looked at all their faces. Something was wrong.
“What’s the matter?”
But before Evans could open his mouth, a muffled barking could be heard from outside. Turning, Faith hurried into her bedroom and looked out the window.
Along the stone block edging of the swan pond, Jaco was barking and jumping erratically back and forth, scaring the pair of swans clear across to the other side. She swiveled around to look at Evans and waited, staring at him expectantly.
“My lady, a man appeared this morning, on the edge of Harris House lawn. He was dressed in black and appeared to be riding your Connemara.”
Faith’s brow scrunched.
“A man dressed in black riding Sweetness? Are you certain?”
“Yes. Sir Logan took off after him.”
Her eyes widened.
“Did anyone follow him?”
“No, my lady.”
“Why?”
“He ordered that we were deliver this to you first and foremost. But we will begin our search now, my lady.” He dipped his head and disappeared out of her bedroom.
Faith watched them leave before returning to watch Jaco jump and bark almost frantically. With one last look at the wrapped painting, Faith gathered up her skirts and rushed down the hallway to her sister Hope’s room, which had a staircase leading from its balcony down into the walled garden. Faith rushed across the room, through the French doors, and down the stone stairway, before running through the garden to the gate.
“Jaco!” she said in a loud whisper.
The dog instantly stopped his barking and jumping. He cocked his head in her direction and, upon seeing her, came rushing over. Faith was kneeling immediately, petting, and rubbing the dog’s fur.
“There’s a good boy,” she cooed, scratching his head. “Good boy. Where did you come from?”
She scratched behind his ear, and he whimpered suddenly, dropping his front paws from her lap. Concerned, Faith pulled her hand back and noticed a slight red on her fingers. Was that blood?
Peering down at Jaco, she moved her hand gently over his head. One ear was in excellent condition, but the other had the most minor of curves cut into his flesh.
“Oh, my good boy, what happened to you?” she asked.
