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She sipped her Bohea, munched a soft, buttery jumble, and offered the dog another bite. The puzzle intrigued her. Why had Graymont entered a card game with her father and his friends? She could believe that Graymont was indifferent to opinion. As to the shocking story that he had compromised a woman and refused to marry her, it was clearly rumor and speculation. She had seen nothing of the vile seducer in his behavior. She would base her dealings with him on what she did know. He liked a wager, or perhaps, she thought, what he liked was a challenge, the way he liked to pit himself against the sea.

He had helped her recover the costumes because he was enjoying their battle. He might want to prolong it, but of course, he meant to win. He meant to snatch the victory from her. He called her a managing female. She resented the double-edged term, with its implication of overstepping and dominating others. It was no compliment to Cordelia’s ability to face difficulties and handle matters that had fallen to her lot. And it was entirely unjust. She had not set out to take charge of anything. Opening the costume trunk had reminded her of the girl she had been in that long-ago summer before her Season, before her mother’s illness.

At seventeen Cordelia had wanted to play Hermia, the young Athenian woman who defies her father and runs away with her lover to the forest. Mother had merely shaken her head and held out the silver costume. You, my proud dear, are not one for such callow Athenian youths. You will need an Oberon. Cordelia had puzzled over her mother’s idea of her. Now she understood herself better. Like Titania, she had ruled in a magic realm apart from the laws of Athens, or at least of London, with minions to do her bidding. Now a sort of Oberon had appeared to take her keys from her. In his Egyptian garb, he already wore a costume. She shook off the fanciful thought. Graymont would not be her lover as Oberon was to Titania, and when she won their wager, she would, at least for one night, regain her kingdom. Today, the rain would keep Viola from the castle. Tomorrow, Cordelia would come up with another plan.

When she lifted her cooling tea for a sip, a door slammed, and shouts filled the house. Hector sprang to his feet. Cordelia set her tea aside and nerved herself to face the latest family contretemps.

*

Gray found Winter in his office in the late afternoon, bent over documents on his desk, apparently indifferent to the rattle of a drainpipe and the decided plop of a leak into a bucket in a corner by the window. He had questions for his right-hand man.

The encounter with Cordelia Staveley had left Gray restless. Even his swim against the incoming tide had not taken the edge off. He enjoyed pushing Miss Staveley, seeing her control slip and her eyes spark for battle. Whatever she intended for those costumes, he did not think she could long contain her younger sister, and when she mentioned her brother and the ledgers, an idea had come to him about how to draw the intrepid Viola to the castle.

Cordelia Staveley implied that her brother was unfamiliar with the ledgers. Gray sympathized. He remembered his own struggle with the business of the estate he was to inherit. His father had insisted that Gray understand how to read ledgers and how to make entries. Gray had dared to say that he thought the task belonged to his father’s man of business. His father simply told Gray never to be in a position where a man he employed knew more of his business than he himself knew.

Gray picked up the fossil from Winter’s desk, and Winter at last looked up.

“Sir, I didn’t hear you come in. What can I do for you?”

“You can clear up a question I have.”

“Sir?”

“Did you meet the younger Miss Staveleys in the village yesterday?”

“I did. The circulating library sells fossils. I was there when they came in.”

“Apparently, you made a favorable impression. They think that, should they need any assistance, you would be accommodating.” Impossible to tell in the glow of the fire, but Gray thought Winter flushed an interesting shade of red.

“Do you wish me to avoid them?” Winter stared at the pen in his hands.

“Not at all. I would like to be informed of any visits they make to the castle.”

“Sir? Do you expect them to visit? I thought with the trunks sent off this morning that they would keep away.”

“They want to hold a ball here.”

“A ball? But you are planning to take the castle down.” Winter looked at the papers on the desk.

“You’ve made arrangements, have you?”

“Only the most preliminary steps. Inspections from local stone masons and one engineer. You will want to hear what they say before you agree to any work.”

“Just as I thought. In the meantime, could we offer some of our space to the Staveleys?”

“Our space?”

“The lodge is quite small, isn’t it?”

“Quite.”

“Exactly. The castle is large. What if we offered Henry Staveley a room, an office, if you like, where he could keep his ledgers or meet with tenants?”

Winter stared at him. “Oh, Henry Staveley. That sounds neighborly and accommodating. Did you have a room in mind?”

“Something on the ground floor, I think, don’t you?” Gray put the fossil back on the desk and turned for the door.

“You’re planning something, aren’t you, sir?”