Chapter Two
August 1816
Twynholm, Scotland
“Ah, my lord.”Viscount Wilson extended his arm and greeted Malcolm with a handshake and a quick bow of his head as he entered the library. “I thank ye for agreeing to attend and monitor our guests. With the thief still roaming the countryside, I immediately thought of ye to ensure our valuables stay within our own walls. My wife is verra concerned.”
A stealthy thief had been taking advantage of estate owners while they were preoccupied with the hustle and bustle of hosting balls and parties to steal from the owners undetected. Viscount Wilson, like many of the other nobles, was rightfully concerned he and his wife would be the next victims.
“Of course, my lord.” Malcolm looked forward to the distraction. He missed the excitement of the chase. The secrecy of the mission.
As the Earl of Cassilis, running the day-to-day operations of Culzean Castle and its surrounding lands, as well as his additional holdings, occupied his time. But he was bored with the monotony of signing papers and poring over books and accounts. He was lucky that when he returned from the war, his estate had been handled properly.
He knew many that hadn’t had such an easy return home, his best friends included.
So, while he was grateful, he grew tired of the doldrum.
Malcolm needed action to fill his days.
When he received the letter from the viscount about his upcoming ball in Twynholm, he’d nearly tossed the invitation in the fire—until his eyes fell upon the first line.
I need your expertise…
Intrigued, Malcolm read on to learn of Wilson’s worry that the thief, who had been dubbed the Phantom Prowler, would try to help himself to some of the many items of value held within Wilson’s estate.
The absurd moniker came from the mystery surrounding the thief’s true identity. Many believed he was someone in high society, since nearly every ball or party host had fallen victim. But just as easily, it could be one of the victim’s servants. There just wasn’t enough information yet.
“Let me show ye the portion of the estate we would like to keep private, and, most importantly, free of guests or possible intruders.” Wilson led the way.
Malcolm followed him out of the library and up the blue-carpeted stairs. From there, they walked down the hallway that led them to what Malcolm assumed was the viscount and viscountesses bed chambers.
“We may have guests up on this floor for various reasons, but our bed chambers are strictly off limits to everyone.”
“That is understandable.” Malcolm wouldn’t want a stranger rummaging about in his bed chamber either.
The ornate door groaned as Wilson pushed it open, and Malcolm trailed him into what was clearly Lady Wilson’s chamber.
He adjusted his cravat, uncomfortable in such a private space that should not be privy to his or any other man’s eyes.
A canopied bed decorated in light-blue linens and piled high with lace-trimmed cream pillows was centered in the room. A white vanity table and large looking glass were set in one corner. A rolling tray filled with various bottles, jars, and tins of powders, lotions, and pomades, stood at the side of the table.
Against the far wall stood a large mahogany wardrobe. The viscount approached it, throwing the doors open wide.
“This, this is what I want ye to ensure stays intact.” He pointed to a jewelry armoire tucked inside. “My wife covets her collection of jewels, and she would be devastated if even a single piece came up missing.”
Malcolm straightened.
“I promise ye have naught to fash about, my lord.” His confidence imbued in each word. “Lady Wilson’s jewels will remain in her possession.”
A smile spread across Wilson’s ruddy face as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together with delight.
“I knew ye were the right man for the job, Lord Kennedy. Thanks to the fine work ye did with Wellington, your reputation is known throughout both the lowlands and the highlands.” He clasped Malcom’s shoulder as he led them out into the hall. “Uncovering that traitor who dared to sell us out to the enemy was quite the triumph.” He clapped him on the shoulder and dropped his hand. “Excellent work.”
Malcolm forced a tight smile, because the memories still burned.
Angus had been old enough to know of his wrongdoing. But seven and ten was too young to have one’s life snuffed out. There was much he could have accomplished, had he only chosen a different path.
He cleared his throat to rid his mind of his morbid thoughts and focused on the task at hand.
