“Made an improper proposal? No.”
She sighed. “That is too bad. I really thought he might. I rather counted on your not coming back here tonight.”
Davina stepped back and opened the door. “You know, Miss Ingram, you do become a little confused sometimes.”
“Not when it matters, Miss MacCallum. Not when it matters.”
* * *
Davina seemed to be avoiding him. By the time he went down for breakfast, she had already eaten. He shared the table with Miss Ingram who, for some reason, chose not to read but instead looked at him long and hard while she drank tea and ate toasted bread. Perhaps she was trying to remember who he was.
“Do you know where Miss MacCallum is?” he asked when he had finished. “She is not in the library or the garden.”
“She said something about an attic. You should go and tell her to come down from there. It is probably dangerous.”
“It could become too warm on a sunny day, but there are windows she can open. She is looking for something, and I should let her see if she can find it.”
“If she is looking for something, you should help her. It is your house.”
“She doesn’t think so,” he muttered.
“As host, you really should help her. What is the world coming to if a duke does not know how to treat a houseguest?”
What was the world coming to when a chaperone pushed a man to be alone with her young lady? “She would not want my help, I am very sure. She would not trust it.”
He excused himself and took his leave. He trailed through the house to Roberts’s office and found him at his desk, working accounts. “Do you want to see them?” Roberts gestured to the ledger and papers in front of him.
“I suppose I should every five years or so.” He accepted the big ledger and scanned the pages, looking for signs of bad management or worse. His father had taught him how to do this, like so much else.Five out of ten servants on the lesser properties will steal from you if you are not careful, he had lectured.
“Your Grace, I am bound to ask, as I do every few years, whether you would consider having that ruin taken down. Not rebuilding, mind you. Just taking down the burned-out husk that is left. It is a scar on the land and clearly a recent destruction, not some ancient and charming old pile like the old tower house.”
He met Roberts’s gaze. The few other times Roberts had broached this subject had not gone well, and he could see his steward braced himself for loud, harsh expressions of displeasure.
“It may be time.” Past time.
Roberts’s expression brightened.
“I think I will go see just how bad it is. I will let you know my decision before I leave.”
“You are going into it?” Roberts spoke with studied evenness.
“I think so.”
“Would you like me to—”
“No, I will do it on my own.”
Roberts played with a letter opener on his desk, studying it while he rolled it in his fingers. “I go in fairly often. I need to, in order to drive out the animals that have taken residence.” He looked up. “There are no ghosts there, from what I can tell.”
“I never thought there might be.” No ghosts to confront there. Only his own stupidity. He handed over the ledger. “These appear in order, as I knew they would be. I appreciate your service to me, Roberts. The offer for you to come to the house in Kent still stands, should you ever want that. I could use you there.”
Roberts flushed. “You must think it odd I don’t take the opportunity. But—” He looked around, as if he could see beyond the four walls. “I like it here. Scotland is home. This house is home. Your father raised me up, from dog boy to this, step by step, and I’ve been here since I was ten. Besides, when you are not in residence, I am something of the laird, ain’t I?”
“I expect you are.” He laughed. “I will be leaving soon, so you can be laird again.”
He left the office and walked back to the front of the house. In the reception hall, he sat in a chair and looked at the heavy drape blocking entry to the burned wing. Then he stood and went over and slipped behind it. Sunlight glared down on him from between a few charred roof timbers high above.
No attic here anymore. No roof to speak of. In the good attic behind him, Davina searched for her past. He did not have to search at all. He knew exactly where his was. Right here, in this empty fortress of blackened stone in which a wilderness grew.
