Crisp simply chuckled and shook his head.
“Perhaps there is more to finding a blue door that is not obvious,” Vanessa offered.
“Apparently that is the case,” he acknowledged. “But we should search inside anyway.”
He may have shown humor to the miss, but he held none when speaking with her.
Vanessa had not done anything wrong, and it hurt that he was cool toward her.
Unlike when they’d searched for the path to Apollo, Crisp led her to each room on the main floor of the manor and together, they studied everything within but there was nothing that could be considered a blue door. He then led her up to the second level.
“Lady Osbourne would not have the answer to the riddle in a private room, so it is either the small sitting room or portrait gallery.”
As there were no doors in the portrait gallery, they continued on to the sitting room only to find Lady Osbourne within, as well as Lady Sewell.
“There is no blue door in here,” she said before they could search.
“But perhaps we wish to search anyway,” Crisp said.
“You can search in here later,” Lady Sewell nearly snapped. “My cousin and I need to discuss the next planned activities.”
“We are sorry to intrude,” Vanessa murmured, and quickly stepped into the corridor.
Crisp joined her and then marched ahead to the portrait gallery. Vanessa trailed behind once again.
Once he reached their destination, Crisp stopped in the center, hand fisted on his hips as he glanced about.
Vanessa had enough. “Why, may I ask, are you in such a foul mood this morning?”
He stared at her over his shoulder.
“It appears Lady Sewell is as well, and I don’t appreciate being treated with silence or sent away rudely when I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Crisp said nothing, though his jaw tightened. “I didn’t sleep well,” he bit out.
“Are you certain it isn’t because I claimed that I was not jealous?”
His eyes hardened. “We’ve a blue door to find.”
In that instant, in a painting on the wall behind him, she saw it.
Did she tell him?
No.
“I’ll tell you where the door is if you tell me the truth.”
Instead of answering her question, Crisp whipped around to look at the wall she’d been facing.
She should have said nothing.
Crisp strode directly to the painting of an ancestor of Lord Osbourne that had the backdrop of an old house with a blue door.
It was rather odd because most portraits had little to nothing behind them, but she wasn’t here to ponder why this ancestor sat before a blue door, especially when she was growing quite aggravated with Crisp. He’d never behaved like this toward her before and if she were honest, it hurt. She had thought they were at least friends.
Crisp lifted the frame and slid out a piece of parchment. “To tantalize the senses, I am an herbalist’s delight even though my name could be mistaken as a vegetable.”
He frowned and looked at her. “I believe this is the first time I’ve been stumped.”
