Page 58 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
How very odd.
“I hope I did not frighten you, Miss Mason.” As he neared her, his voice sounded robust and cheerful. “Hiram Neville, at your service.”
Macie stepped away from her tripod. How did the man know her name? “I was a bit startled. Nothing more.” She searched for a memory of him. Surely she would’ve remembered those vivid eyes. “Have we met? I can’t say as I recall the occasion.”
“I wouldn’t expect you would remember me.” His smile broadened. “You were a wee girl the last time I laid eyes on you, young enough to bounce upon your grandfather’s knee.”
His words should have reassured her, but they rang strangely hollow. The faint essence of liquor on his breath intensified her uneasiness, but she forced a bland smile. “What brings you to London, Mr. Neville?”
His expression shifted, suddenly solemn. “Your grandfather, my dear.”
An invisible weight plummeted into her stomach. “I’m sorry if you’ve come a long way. He passed away. It’s been nearly a year.”
“Andrew’s death is why I’ve come. I only recently received the news, and I wished to pay my respects. I will miss my old friend.”
Was her imagination running wild, or did the odd gleam in his eyes belie his words?
“Thank you,” she said, even as her senses remained on edge. “Might I ask how you and my grandfather were acquainted?”
“Ah, we’d known each other since we were lads,” he explained. “Some time ago, we parlayed our mutual interest in antiquities into a shared venture.”
Macie met his eyes, searching for a reason to trust this man whose words posed as many questions as answers. Her grandfather had seldom passed up an opportunity to reminisce about his youthful exploits. Why, he’d relished those tales nearly as much as he’d enjoyed a rousing ghost story. Yet she could not recall a single mention of Hiram Neville.
“I am not familiar with the details of your enterprise,” she said truthfully.
“Sadly, I cannot say I am surprised. The endeavor did not succeed. Andrew no doubt wished to put the experience behind him.” He tapped the brass handle of his walking stick againsthis palm in a precise rhythm. “But that isn’t why I’ve come here today, Miss Mason.”
“Then . . . what might I do for you?”
He drew nearer, still toying with the cane. Each movement seemed to contain a nervous energy. His thin smile faded. “I understand you now hold the deed to Bennington Manor.” This close, there was no mistaking the odor of spirits. “That is correct, is it not, Miss Mason?”
My, the conversation had taken a peculiar turn. Suddenly, Macie wanted nothing more than to be away from this stranger who claimed a vague connection with her grandfather. Pulling in a low breath, she offered a crisp response. “That is correct. Not that it should be of any of your concern.”
The man’s gaze sharpened. His words were cool as a winter morn. “Your grandfather was a free thinker. He prided himself on being ahead of his time. Indeed, few would toss tradition to the refuse bin and bypass the true heir.”
The shift in his tone unsettled her as much as his words. “I presume you are referring to my brother.”
“As I recall, your grandfather was exceedingly proud of your brother. He believed Jonathan has a fine head on his shoulders. And yet, he bequeathed his most precious asset to you. Rather unexpected, you must admit.” He tapped his walking stick against the ground with restless energy. “I suppose he trusted you to care for this house. Just as he had.”
“Indeed, he did.” She kept her response bland, even as a tingle of warning ran along her spine.
“And what of his collections and his library?” Interest lit his pale gaze. “Have they remained with the house?”
“Several museums have benefitted from his bequests, as was his wish. Might I ask what concern this is of yours?”
“Your grandfather devoted years to the study of ancient cultures. The library he acquired reflected his dedication. If Imay be so bold, his research should now be in the hands of those who could truly benefit from his work—not locked away behind the doors of this house.”
“In time, my family and I intend to see to the proper disposition of his collection, including his library.” The thought of it twisted like a fist in her belly.
“As I see it,intendis a rather unfortunate word.” The old man’s jovial attitude had been replaced by a diamond-hard look of scrutiny. “One can have the best of intentions, Miss Mason. But the wherewithal to follow through is what truly matters.”
Biting back the words that came to mind, Macie met his frosty gaze. Her nerves seemed to stand on edge. Instinct urged her to promptly dismiss him. But she would, however, act the part of a proper lady, if only for her grandfather’s sake.
“As I see it, Mr. Neville, mywherewithalis not of your concern.” To her own ears, her voice sounded tightly controlled, the ice in her tone making clear he had crossed a line.
“I am very much interested in your grandfather’s library.” He tapped the silver wolf’s head against his palm. “Especially the documentation of his field research.”
His words caught Macie off guard. “You are referring to my grandfather’s notebooks?”
