Twin of Ice (Montgomery/Taggert 6)

In the corridor outside the kitchen was a stairway and Houston took it. Pausing at the second floor, she peeped down a hallway but could see only shadows on oak floors and panelled walls. She continued toward the attics.

As she’d already guessed, the attics were actually servants’ quarters that were now being used for storage. There were two bathrooms, one male, one female, and the rest of the space was divided into small rooms. And each room was stacked to the ceiling with crates and boxes; some had furniture hidden under dust covers.

Tentatively, she lifted a dust sheet. Beneath it were two gilded chairs covered in tapestries of cherubs. A tag was attached. Holding her breath, she read the tag:

Mid-eighteenth century

tapestries woven at Gobelin works

believed to have belonged to Mme. de Pompadour

one of set of twelve chairs, two settees

“My goodness,” Houston breathed, allowing the cover to fall back into place.

Against the wall was a rolled carpet. Its tag read:

Late seventeenth century

made at Savonnerie factory for Louis XIV

A crate, obviously holding a painting, was merely labelled “Gainsborough.” Beside it stood one with the word “Reynolds” painted on it.

Slowly, Houston removed the cover from the Mme. de Pompadour chairs, lifted off the top chair and sat down. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Looking about her, she could see gold feet protruding from beneath the sheeted furniture, and without further exploring, she knew that all the furniture and works of art were museum quality. Absently, she lifted a sheet beside her. Beneath it sparkled a chandelier that looked as if it were made of diamonds. Its tag read: 1780.

She was still sitting, a bit stunned at the prospect of living daily with the treasures around her when she heard a carriage below. “Mr. Bagly!” she said as she flew down the stairs and managed to arrive at the front door just as he and his assistant were leaving their carriage.

“Good morning, Blair-Houston,” he said.

Mr. Bagly was a tiny, white-faced little man who somehow managed to be a tyrant. As Chandler’s premier tailor, Mr. Bagly received a great deal of respect.

“Good morning,” she answered. “Do come in. I’m not sure what you’ve heard, Mr. Bagly, but Mr. Taggert and I are to be married within two weeks and he’ll need an entire wardrobe. But right now, he needs one good afternoon suit for a reception tomorrow, something in vicuña, three buttons, gray trousers and a vest of cashmere. That should do it. Do you think you can have it ready by two o’clock tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. I have other customers.”

“I’m sure no one is in as much need as Mr. Taggert. Put as many seamstresses on it as possible. You will be paid.”

“I think I can arrange it. Now, if I could begin measuring Mr. Taggert, I could start the suit.”

“He is upstairs, I believe.”

Mr. Bagly looked at her steadily. “Blair-Houston, I’ve known you all your life, and I’m willing to put aside all my other work to do a job for you, and I’m willing to come here this early in the morning in order to measure your fiancée, but I will not go up those stairs and search for him. Perhaps we should come back when he’s awake.”

“But you won’t have time to make the suit! Please, Mr. Bagly.”

“Not if you went on your knees to me. We will wait in here for one half-hour. If Mr. Taggert is not downstairs by then, we will leave.”

Houston was almost glad there were no chairs for them in the large drawing ro

om where they planned to wait. Courage, she told herself and started up the stairs.

The second floor was as beautiful as the first, with white painted panelling, and directly in front of her was a wide, open room with a green tiled area in back. “An aviary,” she whispered with delight.

With a sigh, she knew she must get down to business. Around her were many closed doors and behind one of them was Kane.

She opened one door and, in the dim light, she saw a blond head in the midst of a rumpled bed. Quietly, she closed the door again, not wanting to wake Edan.

She went through four rooms before she found Kane’s bedroom at the back of the house. Suspended from picture wires from the ceiling mold were crude curtains blocking out the morning sun. The furniture consisted of an oak bed, a little table littered with papers, an earthenware water pitcher on it, and a three-piece set of upholstered furniture covered in a ghastly red plush with bright yellow tassels at the bottom.