Page 88 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
She squared her shoulders. “I will not part with so much as a single document.”
“Miss Mason, I need that research.” Reaching for her, he caught her hands between his leather-gloved palms. “You don’t know what you have.”
She pulled away from his hold. “I’ve heard quite enough.”
He glanced about, seeming to search the street. As he turned back to her, he pressed a hand to his chest. To his heart. “You must listen to me.”
“Mr. Neville, you look unwell.”
Pulling in a labored breath, he dabbed his brow with his pocket square. “You must heed what I say.”
His hands were trembling. He needed help. “You are not well,” Macie said firmly. “I must find—”
The rattle of carriage wheels over the cobbles startled her. Macie’s words caught in her throat. Moving swiftly, the elegant black coach appeared as though it might actually bound over the curb.
As the carriage slowed to a stop, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open. Her brows knitted with questions, Mrs. Johnstone called down to her. “Is there a problem?”
The old man caught her hands again, his hold startlingly firm. “It may be too late for me,” he said with a lack of emotion, as if he’d resolved to face whatever it was he feared. Turning away, he headed to the carriage. Pausing before the coach, he cast her a lingering glance. “If you will not listen to me, Miss Mason, I can no longer protect you.”
*
Macie retreated tothe small garden terrace behind her townhouse. The sun was low in the sky, its rays warm and refreshing. Cleo sashayed close behind, the cat’s tail at a jaunty angle as she surveyed the garden with a bright-eyed excitement.
Inhaling the aroma of fresh lavender and fragrant roses, Macie smiled to herself as a bee flitted energetically from one blossom to the next, not a care in the world. She crossed the small courtyard to her favorite plant, a beautiful tea rose with coral pink buds nearly ready to bloom.
The cat sauntered about, then took a spot on a garden bench. Stretching out her body, she nearly covered the surface.
“Cleo, you do know how to stake your claim, don’t you?” Swishing her skirts to the side, Macie made herself comfortable on the cement bench across from where her pet luxuriously basked in the sun.
Determined to clear her thoughts, Macie drank in the sights and smells that served as tonic for her weary mind. Usually, a few moments with her flowers and greenery and sunlight were all it took for her to relax and push away her worries, if only for a time. But after a few minutes alone with her thoughts, she could not deny, especially to herself, that her encounter with Mr. Neville had rattled her. In fact, she suspected an entire hothouse full of roses would not have done the trick.
“Do ye mind if I join ye?” Mrs. Johnstone strolled from the house, carrying a silver tray with cups and a pitcher of iced tea.
“Please, do,” Macie said.
Mrs. Johnstone set the tray down beside Macie and poured each of them a drink. She turned to the bench Cleo had claimed and gently nudged the none-too-happy cat just enough to cleara space for herself. If a cat could scowl, Cleo was certainly doing just that.
“Ye were a bit quiet in the carriage,” Mrs. Johnstone began. “I could not help but hear a bit of what the old man said. Did he upset ye?”
“He was not well. I am concerned about him.” Macie took a sip of cool tea. “Honestly, I suspect he was in his cups, but there was something else... something that left me uneasy.”
“He implied he’d been protecting ye,” Mrs. Johnstone said. “Why would he think such a thing?”
“I truly don’t know. Mr. Neville has made it clear that he wishes to obtain my grandfather’s collection, including his research. This afternoon, he said something rather peculiar.” Macie set her teacup on the bench. “He told me I don’t know what I have.”
Mrs. Johnstone’s forehead crinkled. “I’ve heard that yer grandfather donated many of the most valuable artifacts before his death. There wasn’t much left, was there?”
“Most of what remained after he passed away was bequeathed to museums from Wales to the Highlands. I told Mr. Neville as much upon our first meeting. Perhaps he was not convinced.”
“Ye should seek a full appraisal of the remaining artifacts.”
“An excellent suggestion.” Gathering her thoughts, Macie stared down at the precise pattern of bricks beneath their feet. “The old gent has not inquired about the sculptures and vases and such. He’s far more interested in Grandpapa’s library. Especially his research. And there is something else—something the man said that seemed rather odd.”
“What was it, Macie?”
“He said it might be too late for him.” Picturing the look on his face, she pulled in a breath. “At first, I thought he wasreferring to getting his hands on whatever it was he wanted. But when I looked into Mr. Neville’s eyes, I saw fear.”
“How very troubling,” Mrs. Johnstone said in a no-nonsense tone. “I shall have to ask about town and ferret out what the man’s story truly is.”
