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  Leon hated waiting and hadn’t liked Colquhoun in the first place. But the young man from Scotland could be useful. He would discover just how useful once they reached his home on the outskirts of the village.

  The earl had returned from Scotland with Rachel’s beautiful daughter instead of bringing Rachel as he’d been hired to do. Leon had no intentions of settling the earl’s gambling debts until the right package arrived.

  The earl of Northon had promised to make the exchange—produce the right woman—but he doubted the young earl had the gumption to do it. Still, Leon had a few ideas of his own. Colquhoun might be able to help him reach his goal whether he knew it or not.

  If Leon were a younger man and in better physical condition, he would have gone after Rachel himself. He rubbed his knee with both hands as if he thought it would lessen the pain. He’d overdone it that day, and he knew it. Nobody else would.

  As he sat rubbing his knee, he thought of the beautiful young woman Edward brought back with him from Scotland. The earl swore that Shannon, Rachel’s daughter, looked exactly like the girl in the portrait— the painting of Rachel that seldom left his side.

  Shannon was no substitute for the real thing no matter how many times the earl praised her rare beauty. Leon smiled to himself. She would certainly make a nice before-dinner appetizer.

  He’d tripped, fallen to the bottom of a near empty well, and broken his leg. The pain and humiliation he’d felt at the time had never left him. Yet even looking up at Rachel from the bottom of the well and being so mad he wanted to kill her, he’d wanted her. He still did. That was what amazed him the most. He still wanted Rachel after all these years.

  He grounded his jaw teeth together.

  He would have her—no matter what the cost or whom he hurt in the process.

  The young lady with all that shiny auburn hair that the earl brought from Scotland wasn’t Rachel but her daughter, Shannon Aimee. From what little he’d seen of Shannon, she was almost as lovely as her mother.

  Shannon’s parents were French Protestants called Huguenots. He’d always hated Jews and Huguenots, and they deserved to be punished. Shannon would get her just rewards for being their daughter, and Leon meant to destroy her—along with her friend, Ian Colquhoun.

  Then another idea came into his head. What if he used Shannon to lure her parents to England? That way, he could get even with all of them at once. The earl had said that Shannon had an older brother, Peter, and an infant brother as well. Leon felt sure he could provide enough weapons to do away with all of them in one grand sweep.

  Rachel married Javier Aimee and left France forever. He’d searched for her over the years but never thought to look in Scotland until ten months ago.

  But the bumbling young earl had brought the wrong woman to England. Now as he sat there in the carriage and thought about it, he realized that Shannon was a very beautiful carrot on a stick—a shapely lump of bait on a line.

  Leon’s spies had informed him that after he abandoned his French wife and she moved back to Paris, she bore him a son and named him Leon Picard after his father. Later, she and the boy moved to the colonies. His son would be twenty-five years old by now. Perhaps he would search for him when all this was over.

  Leon looked out the window by the carriage door. Ian Colquhoun was walking toward him. The younger man had probably stepped into the woods to relieve himself, making Leon wait in the carriage when he wished to move on.

  His jaw firmed. Leon wanted revenge.

  But it might not be in his best interest to scold Mr. Colquhoun just yet.

  He forced a smile and opened the door. “Come in, my good man.”

  Ian paused at the door of the carriage. The Frenchman’s voice sounded kind and welcoming. Yet he heard something else, too. A ring of insincerity— perhaps mockery—shined through as well. He shook his head as if to wipe away his doubts and climbed inside.

  The Frenchman motioned to him. “I had almost given up hope that you were coming.”

  “Forgive me, Monsieur Gabeau, for being late. I had personal matters that needed my attention.” Ian sat down in the carriage seat across from his host.

  The Frenchman nodded as if he understood. But for some reason, Ian still didn’t trust the man. He forced a smile.

  “Did you enjoy your dinner in the earl’s kitchen?” the older man asked.

  “Yes. We were served a wonderful meal.”

  “We? What we might you be talking about?” His deep voice contained a relaxed, conversational tone.

  “Miss Shannon Aimee. Miss Aimee and I were childhood friends back in Scotland.”

  “Then you must know her parents.”

  “Of course.”

  It was certainly kind of the French gentleman to invite him to stay in his home. But for some reason, Ian didn’t feel comfortable around the man any more than he trusted him. Did Monsieur Gabeau have a hidden agenda that had nothing to do with being kind and helpful?

  “Miss Aimee’s brother, Peter, and I are the best of friends,” Ian explained. “I spent a lot of time visiting with the family on their farm.”

  “Then Monsieur Aimee is a farmer?”

  “One of the best farmers in Luss.”

  “The earl mentioned that you and Miss Aimee were from Luss. So what can you tell me about Madam Aimee—the girl’s mother? I understand she is very beautiful and that she had a child recently.”

  “She had a boy—Andre.”

  “A boy who looks like his father, I wager.”

  “It is hard to tell. The child is small. But I think he will look more like his mother.”

  “Ah yes. The beautiful Rachel.”

  “Then you know Mrs. Aimee?”

  The Frenchman looked stunned for an instant as if he’d said more than he intended. “No. We have never met. But the earl speaks highly of the woman and her husband.”

  Why was Monsieur Gabeau asking him all these questions? Was he merely making polite conversation? Or was there another reason? Perhaps he should have refused his offer and stayed in the guardhouse after all.

  Ian glanced out the window on his side of the carriage. There was something in the Frenchman’s facial expression when he mentioned Shannon’s mother that bothered him. Monsieur Gabeau called her beautiful. Briefly, a faraway, almost dreamy look had softened the older man’s features. Had the earl’s description of Mrs. Aimee brought back memories of a lost love? Was the Frenchman more of a romantic than Ian would have thought possible— or was he imagining things?

  Maybe it was time to start asking questions. Certainly he was within his rights. He hardly knew this man, yet he could be spending a fortnight with him—or longer if the vicar delayed returning to his post at the church.

  Shannon sat on the edge of her bed drumming her fingers on her knees. She’d just looked out the only window in her small bedroom, noting that the sun was lower in the western sky.

  The earl should have returned by now or sent someone to move her to another room. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—sit here forever. She had to do something. Now.

  She sprang to her feet. Ping. The room key she was holding in her lap dropped to the floor. She reached down and picked it up. Then she dusted it off with the hem of her green muslin dress. Shannon hurried to the door and stepped out into the hallway.

  The hallway looked empty.

  What if she simply climbed the stairs to the kitchen? She could sneak around to the front of the house and open the main door. No, the butler would never allow her to come inside. She would need to think of something else.

  The young maid she met earlier turned a corner and started toward her.

  Shannon smiled as an idea came to her. “Millie. I was hoping I would see you again. Can you come inside a minute? I need company.”

  Millie gazed down at the stack of clean linen she held in her arms. “I was on me way to deliver these, miss.”

  “Please,” Shannon said in a pleading voice. “I am so lonely.”

  Millie shr
ugged her shoulders. “I dare not.” She looked to her right and to her left. “Maude would send me on me way without paying me first— she would—if she knew.”

  “I really need help.” Shannon opened the door all the way and motioned for Millie to go in first. “It should only take a moment. And I will never tell anyone you were here.”

  “Well—” Millie glanced down the hall again. “I guess I could come in— but only for a minute.” The maid went inside and spread the stack of linen on the straight-backed chair by the bed. “Now, how can I be helping you? Are you sick, miss? You look a bit pale.”

  “I am well enough. Now, come and we will sit together on the edge of the bed and talk. I have questions to ask.”

  “You sit, miss. I will stand. It ain’t fittin’ that I should sit on a bed in the daytime. The housekeeper would let me go for sure, if she knew.”

  “Then I will stand as well.” Shannon forced another smile. “I spoke with the earl a while ago, and I will soon be moving above stairs to a room near my chaperone, Miss Foster. But he forgot to tell me how to find the stairway the servants use.”

  “If that be all you’re wanting, I can show ya the way.” Millie scooped up the stack of linen. “I am on me way to a room near the stairs right now.” She headed for the door. “Follow me.”

  “Thank you, Millie. I really appreciate your help.”

  Shannon had to practically run to keep up with Millie’s fast pace. They hurried to the opposite end of the long hall from the one that led to the kitchen, made a few more turns and finally reached another stairway.

  “I’ve been on the second floor only once, miss. But the housekeeper says that these stairs go up and up and up.”

  “Has she ever mentioned who lives on the top floor?” Shannon asked. “I saw a young woman with black hair standing at a window when I first arrived.”

  “Oh no, miss.” Millie shook her head and glanced down at the floor. “The maids never talk about such things—not here. Maude would put a switch to us if we did.”

  Shannon saw what she perceived as fear in Millie’s eyes before the maid developed a sudden interest in smoothing the stack of linen. Shannon wanted to learn more but not now. She would interview Millie again when they knew each other better.

  “Thank you again, Millie, for all your help. And please never mention our conversation to anyone. The earl might not have told the housekeeper or anyone else down here about his plans to move me to another room. I would never want to get you in trouble.”

  “I’ll shut my mouth, miss. You have me word.”

  “Then my lips are shut as well. And thank you, Millie, for all your help.”

  Shannon glanced up the wooden stairway. She knew it would be dangerous. Nevertheless, she would climb to the very top the first chance she got.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SHANNON HID IN the linen closet Millie showed her, staying there for what seemed like hours. Her heart pounding, she glanced both ways and finally crept to the bottom of the stairs. She gripped the railing and looked up. After a moment, she climbed the stairs on tiptoes. Halfway up, she paused and looked around before going higher.

  On the second floor, she looked around again to see if she was being followed. Then she headed down a long hall that she estimated to be at least fifteen feet wide. Heavy chandeliers hung at intervals from a high ceiling. Walls of stone were painted a soft white. Still the hallway was too dark to suit Shannon.

  A table stood outside one of the tall oak doors. Piles of linen had been stacked on it. Millie had carried a stack of linen.

  Shannon grabbed a stack from the pile and held it in her arms as she’d seen Millie doing. The earl’s mother and grandmother thought she was a maid. Now she would pretend to be one.

  The soft linen material seemed out of place against the homespun look of her muslin dress. Unlike Millie, she wasn’t wearing a white apron and matching cap. But it would be easier to explain why she wasn’t wearing a uniform than what she was doing on the second floor in the first place.

  A door opened up ahead.

  A middle-aged woman in a white cap and apron came out and headed straight toward her, carrying a silver teapot. The woman was looking off to her left as if she’d heard something. Perhaps she hadn’t seen her.

  Shannon pressed her body against one of the other doors and tried not to breathe. The doorframe was at least twelve inches wide. Maybe it was enough. If the round little maid turned and went in the opposite direction, she was saved. If not, she could be discovered.

  The maid continued down the hall straight for her.

  Still pressed against the door, Shannon sent up a quick prayer as she fumbled for the door latch. She reached out but found nothing. Apparently the door was wider than most.

  The maid moved closer and closer.

  Her father and mother had always told her to call out to the Lord when danger strikes. But she’d never really done that. Maybe now was the time to start.

  She inched to the left. Her hand touched something hard and cold. It had to be the latch. She’d found it. But would the door be locked? She sent up another prayer.

  Shannon tried to move the latch. It moved. A loud metallic click rang out. Her heart pounded. If the maid hadn’t heard that click, she had a hearing problem.

  She opened the door. Creak. Another sound. The maid would have to be deaf not to hear that one. She slipped inside the dark room and closed the door.

  Nobody was inside; she could be thankful for that. But what if the maid happened to open the door to check on things? She trembled. Where would she hide?

  Fear not.

  Where had that thought come from? She looked around as if she thought she might find an answer. Then she remembered. It was a scripture verse she’d learned from her father. Was this a coincidence? Or had she received some sort of message from beyond her understanding? She was never much of a Christian, but her parents would say God was speaking to her through His Word—the Bible.

  She didn’t believe in miracles either. But a dash of courage couldn’t hurt at a time like this.

  Shannon laid the clean linen on a table by the door. She lifted her chin and straightened her back as she’d seen the earl’s mother doing. Then she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

  The maid she’d seen earlier had passed on by, but she could still see her back. “Madam,” Shannon called out.

  The maid stopped and turned around. “Are you calling me, miss?”

  “Yes. Would you mind coming here for a moment?”

  “Sure and I will.” The woman started toward her.

  Shannon had no idea what she might say to her. She just hoped the right words would come out of her mouth at the proper time.

  The maid had almost reached her. “What might you be needing?”

  “Directions. I appear to be lost.”

  The teapot was centered on a silver tray. She also saw what looked like a bowl for holding sugar, a small pitcher for cream, and a white china saucer with an empty teacup on top of it.

  “And where are you needing to go?” the maid finally asked.

  Shannon smiled. “I am looking for a Miss Foster. She is about your age and a visitor here at Gatehaven.”

  The maid nodded. “Oh yes, miss, I know where Miss Foster is.” She smiled. “They call me Maude, they do. I have to pass right by Miss Foster’s room on me way to the kitchen. Follow me, and I will show ya.”

  So this is Maude, Shannon thought as she followed the woman down the long hall.

  Lady Catherine had said that Shannon was to sleep in the maid’s quarters in a room across from a Maude. Was the woman with the teapot that Maude? If so, Shannon could find herself back in the maid’s quarters before she knew it.

  They turned a corner.

  “This is Miss Foster’s room, miss.” The older woman pointed to the corner room on their left. “I must return to the kitchen with the silver teapot. So, I will leave you now.”

  “Thank you, Maude, for helping
me.”

  “Helping those of the quality is me job.”

  Shannon smiled and looked down at her muslin dress. She thinks I am quality—even in these clothes.

  She knocked on the heavy oak door.

  “Who is there?” she heard Miss Foster say.

  “Miss Aimee.”

  “Well, are you going to just stand there? Come in.”

  Shannon opened the door but stood in the doorway a moment before going inside. While her room in the maid’s quarters was small and somewhat dark with only one window, Miss Foster’s room looked huge. A line of windows along one wall made Shannon feel as if she was outdoors in the sunshine instead of this dark and gloomy mansion.

  Miss Foster reclined on a sort of couch by an enormous bed.

  “It is about time you arrived,” Miss Foster said. “Where have you been?”

  Shannon hesitated, trying to think of the best way to explain her tardiness. “I was given the wrong room by mistake. My bags and boxes are in the maid’s quarters.”

  “The maid’s quarters? However did they find their way there?”

  Shannon shrugged so she wouldn’t have to reply.

  “Your room must be the one connected to mine by a dressing room.”

  Miss Foster motioned to a door to her left. “Go in now. I will send for your belongings and have them sent to your room. Now I must dress quickly.”

  “Where are you going?” Shannon asked.

  “I am expected downstairs for dinner in an hour. Polly will assist in unpacking your bags and boxes as soon as she has helped me with my toiletries.”

  “What about me? Where will I eat my dinner?”

  “There was no mention of you going downstairs for dinner this evening, Miss Aimee. I will have my maid bring something up for you from the kitchen. Polly is always glad to help.”

  Shannon nodded and headed for the door the woman had mentioned. Apparently, she was not invited to Lady Catherine’s dinner party that evening and doubted it was an oversight.