They’d arrived at Invermere.
He opened the carriage door and found the driver settling his single case of clothing on the gravel under their feet.
“Looks like someone’s still awake,” the driver said, pointing toward a far window in the front of what James could only make out as a looming and broad manor house, its uppermost edges outlined in moonlight.
“Very good,” James mumbled in return, then dug in his pocket for a coin to tip the man before he departed.
His gut twisted in wariness even as a desperate kind of eagerness propelled him forward. This wouldn’t be as simple as he wished it to be. He knew that with certainty. His instincts, as much as he doubted them after the investment debacle and business with Beck, were not entirely faulty.
Movement caught his eye at a lit window. Someone peeking out to see what strange carriage had arrived unexpectedly, no doubt.
With his fist, he rapped twice on the front door before he noticed a knocker lower down.
Lights spread to more windows on the ground floor, and he could hear a woman’s voice.
Lady Cassandra, I presume.
The gentleman who answered the door examined him in the bright glow of the entry hall lamps.
“Good evening,” James started congenially. “May I speak with Lady Cassandra Munro?”
“Her ladyship does nae receive visitors at this hour.” The diminutive gray-haired man’s burr was thick, and his tone was a perfect mix of wariness and irritation.
“Forgive the hour.” James kept his tone light, striving to let none of the anxiety he felt seep in. “I’m afraid it’s a matter of some urgency.”
That gave the man pause, but only a second’s worth. “It’s impossible, sir. I can convey a message to her ladyship if you like.”
“May I ask your name?” James had shocked the older man with the question.
His bushy brows winged high on his wrinkled forehead. “Drummond. Butler to Lady Cassandra.”
“Well, you see, Mr. Drummond”—James leaned in as if he wished to convey a secret to the man—“it’s also a matter of some delicacy.”
The man wasn’t movable. James could see it in his eyes. He wondered at the fact that he’d even bothered to open the door at all. A moment later,he began to close it, offering James a nod of dismissal.
James shoved his boot into the gap at the same moment a tall, imperious-looking woman in a dark, high-necked gown approached.
“Her ladyship is not at home. Leave a message or simply leave and come again some other day. Preferably during receiving hours.” The lady’s accent was as polished as the lens of her brass-rimmed spectacles and as sharp as any elocution tutor in England.
James would guess she was the lady herself if not for her drab gown and starched white collar.
As if she heard the questions whirling in James’s mind, she stepped up beside Drummond, creating a bulwark to keep him out.
“I am Mrs. Fox, her ladyship’s housekeeper, and if you tell me your name, sir, I will let her know that you called.”
Charm wasn’t going to work. He shoved a hand into his inner coat pocket, pulled out a copy Cathcart had provided of the letter he’d sent to Lady Cassandra regarding ownership of the manor house. Apparently, the lady hadn’t been at home to receive her copy.
Rather than explaining, James lifted the document and held it out for the woman to read for herself.
Mrs. Fox snatched the paper from his hand and stared up at him in shock, then she handed it to the butler at her side.
“I’ve inherited my uncle’s title and this manor. When will Lady Cassandra return?”
“We’re not certain. She was called away unexpectedly.”
“May I?” James gestured to the long hallway behind her.
The housekeeper and butler cast each other a glance and parted, allowing James to step inside. The moment he did, a beast the size of a small pony galloped toward him on enormous furry feet. James stopped midstride, holding still, waiting to see if the creature intended to attack or merely sniff.
