“Oh, yes, the play,” exclaimed Anna quickly. “There is no medieval scene in it, so a suit of armor would be out of place.”
“Oh, come—use your imagination, Miss Sloane.”
“Mine is clearly not nearly as vivid as yours, Lord Davenport.” Taking pains not to limp, she set off for the sanctuary of the shelves, hoping her sister would have the good sense to follow along instead of lingering in conversation with the marquess.
Caro did—but only because her curiosity was piqued. “What play?” she whispered.
“He spotted me sketching a pistol in Mr. Manton’s display window. I had to make up as story as to why,” replied Anna in equally low tones.
“Come to think of it, writing a play for the guests to perform could be quite a lark,” mused Caro.
“Not for me. In case it has slipped your mind, I’ve got a deadline, and precious little time in which to finish my manuscript.” She made a face. “Speaking of which, after I find a book describing the historical ruins in this area, I had better spend the rest of the morning in my room, working on the next chapter.”
“And I think I shall search out a copy of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream and have a look at the play within a play.”
Lord Dunbar’s assistant secretary helped them in locating the desired books, and after a longing look at the rest of the magnificent collection, Anna reluctantly returned to her quarters.
Work, she reminded herself. She had come here to work, not to moon over a rakish rascal’s kisses and the terrible temptations they stirred inside her.
Sharpening her pen, Anna slapped a fresh sheet of foolscap onto the blotter and uncapped her inkwell. The best way to exorcise the Devil was through writing, and she had come up with some interesting ideas for a new plot twist.
And yet, as the nib touched the paper, she hesitated for a moment, thinking about fact before starting in on fiction.
The fact was, Davenport was acting very havey-cavey. Prowling around the castle in places he had no right to be, stealing a book from the earl’s library…which yet again raised the unsettling question—what was he up to?
It was no secret that the marquess was always desperately in need of money. It was assumed by the ton that he meant to marry a rich heiress. But perhaps he had other ideas on how to refill his coffers.
Hmmm.
Some time later, she was still musing over the conundrum when Caro’s light knock pulled her out of her reveries.
“Any progress?” Her sister’s brows shot up as she spotted the blank page. “Um, is there a problem?”
“Men,” muttered Anna through her teeth. “Or, rather, one gentleman in particular.”
“Let me guess.” Caro’s mouth curled up at the corners. “Did he steal another kiss?”
“No!” She slapped down her pen. “I have a feeling that he may be planning to purloin something far more valuable than that.”
“Ooooo, the plot thickens!”
“Stop that,” groused Anna. “It’s not a jesting matter.”
Her sister’s grin disappeared. “You’re serious
?”
She nodded. “Quite.”
“What makes you think that?”
After hearing the terse account of the previous evening’s hide and seek, Caro pursed her lips. “It’s intriguing, but hardly incriminating. Maybe he was just restless after visiting the prince’s quarters and decided to explore the ancient part of the castle.”
“I know, I know.” Her fingers began to drum on the blotter. “At this point it’s pure speculation, and yet I feel certain there is some mischief afoot here. I just have to find the proof.”
Caro’s reply was uncharacteristically restrained. “That has an ominous ring to it. You are beginning to sound like Emmalina.”
“I am Emmalina.”