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  “Few of us know how we would react in such circumstances, sir.”

  Connor’s expression was grim. “Perhaps, but I should have known better.”

  He led Inspector Davies to the luxurious suite of interconnecting rooms usually reserved for the families of visiting judges or Members of Parliament. It might have been occupied by a foreign princess for all the excitement buzzing through the house. Connor would have been amused at any other time.

  “Take heart, sir,” Davies said, reassuring him again. “We’re having all the seaports watched and the city gates barricaded. Your colleague Donaldson has already provided us with a list of known criminals and felons with a grudge against you. Your sister will turn up in time.”

  “I hope to God you’re right,” Connor said. “She could be anywhere by now.”

  His face dark with worry, he opened the door. The sight that greeted him briefly wiped every other thought from his mind.

  Maggie reclined amidst a sea of lace-embroidered pillows in the middle of a lofty four-poster bed with feathered finials, accepting all the attention as if she were Cleopatra on her royal barge. She looked perfectly natural in her luxurious surroundings. She looked more at home than Connor had ever felt in this fussy room with its gilt-lacquered wardrobe and flocked wallpaper depicting angels and frolicking shepherdesses.

  His uncle sat at her bedside, discussing his travels. Ardath was arranging a pink silk ribbon around the bandage on the little usurper’s head. Bella and Norah were trying to decide which wrapper Maggie should wear over her nightrail. God forbid she should take a chill and start to sneeze during the night. Dr. Sinclair stood at the dressing table mixing a headache powder for her with the absorption of an alchemist turning base metal into gold.

  Maggie herself was gazing blankly at a selection of chocolates in the large box on her lap. Her blue eyes narrowed when Connor entered the room, then widened in astonishment as she noticed the police inspector behind him.

  I knew it, Connor thought, refusing to acknowledge a surprising stab of disappointment. This isn’t her first run-in with the law. She’s probably a professional. Damn her. She was good. He would have sworn she had been gently bred. He could usually read people at a glance.

  “I assume you have already met Inspector Davies, Miss Saunders?” he said, not bothering to hide the derision in his voice.

  Before she could answer, the young Welshman made a beeline for the bed. “What has this man done to you, Maggie? Why are you wearing a bandage on your head?”

  Connor straightened, unable to believe his ears. “Did I miss something?” he said archly, turning to Ardath.

  Maggie raised her face to receive the affectionate kiss Inspector Davies planted on her cheek. “I thought you’d gone to Glasgow, Thomas. How are the children?”

  “On their way back here with Gladys, and missing you something dreadful. But never mind them.” He cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder at Connor. “Housebreaker indeed. What power does to some people. What happened to your head, Maggie love?”

  The earl gave her a grateful look. “She banged it up trying to rescue my niece from her abductors. We’re lucky we didn’t lose her.”

  Connor came up behind them. “By the way, that’s the niece whose abduction you’re supposed to be investigating, Inspector.”

  “You have to find her soon, Thomas,” Maggie said, her forehead creased in concern. “It was such a horrible thing to witness—I couldn’t stand by without trying to do something, could I? She was so helpless.”

  “Do you have any other convictions?” Connor demanded.

  “Convictions?” Maggie paused to think. “I was raised a devout Roman Catholic. Does that count?”

  He gave her a rather nasty smile. “I meant do you have any past criminal convictions.”

  “How dare you. What an impertinent thing to ask.” Inspector Davies straightened his narrow shoulders. “It’s just as I suspected, Lord Buchanan,” he said with satisfaction. “Maggie Saunders had nothing to do with any abduction.”

  Maggie gave him a fleeting smile. Connor watched her in reluctant fascination, trying to see beneath the surface. How did she do it? For a criminal she looked incredibly sweet with her hair streaming in soft waves over her shoulders. No wonder she had fooled him. The girl apparently enchanted everyone she met.

  “Are those for me?” she asked him unexpectedly, motioning to the bedraggled flowers stuffed under his arm.

  He glanced down at the mangled daisies and vented a deep sigh. In all the furor, he’d forgotten he was even holding them. “Yes. Take the damn things.”

  He dropped the flowers on the bed. Maggie bit her lip in confusion, wondering why he’d made such a nice gesture as bringing her flowers only to dump them in her lap. “I tried to tell his lordship I was only an innocent bystander,” she explained in a small voice to the inspector. She paused to straighten one of the daisies’ twisted stems. “He wouldn’t listen.”

  “There’s no telling my brother anything once he’s made a decision,” Norah said. “I’ve always claimed it’s easier to move a mountain than to change Connor’s mind. He’s been that way ever since I can remember.”

  Maggie shook her head in sympathy. “It’s probably too late to change him now. At his age character is well established.”

  Connor crossed the room to the window, his shoulders stiff with tension. He’d removed his evening jacket and black velvet waistcoat. The party was obviously over. He frowned in annoyance. What did the girl mean, ‘at his age’? And God, where was Sheena?

  “How many men are out searching for my sister, Inspector Davies?” he asked curtly.

  “Every man under my command is looking for her, my lord, including the entire brigade of volunteers.”

  “I’m going to join them,” he muttered.

  “You’re probably wiser to stay here,” Davies said. “Just in case this was an attempt to lure you out into the open where some lunatic might be lying in wait for you. And, I hate to bring it up, sir, but the kidnappers will probably send a ransom note to the house.”

  Connor turned, his face shadowed with anxiety, and just a touch of irony. “And you are convinced that this woman didn’t have anything to do with Sheena’s abduction?”

  “Did you have anything to do with the abduction, Maggie?” Inspector Davies asked her with an indulgent smile that indicated how ridiculous he found the question.

  Maggie drew herself upright in the bed. “I did not.”

  The inspector turned back to Connor. “She denies any involvement in your sister’s abduction, my lord.”

  “I heard perfectly well what she said,” Connor snapped. “But that still doesn’t explain why she and her young hoodlum friend broke into my house.” He stared down his nose at Maggie. “Does it?”

  “Don’t be bullied into believing he can keep you here against your will,” Ardath advised Maggie under her breath as she pretended to plump up the pillows. “It’s called ‘wrongful imprisonment.’ ”

  Maggie looked directly at Connor. “I’m not ignorant, my lord. I know what you’re trying to do to me. It’s called ‘wrongly imprison us.’ ”

  Connor made a rude noise in his throat.

  “Don’t answer any more questions, dear,” Ardath said. “Not without a legal agent present. It isn’t wise.”

  “Connor is a legal agent,” the earl pointed out. “He’s a damn fine one too, even if he does have the devil’s own temperament. But don’t worry your pretty head about court representation, Miss Saunders. If you have trouble with the law, my nephew is the man you want.”

  “I am not representing this woman,” Connor said quickly. “It’s more likely I’ll end up prosecuting her than defending her.”

  “Prosecuting me?” Maggie turned white at the very idea, a daisy drooping in her hand.

  The earl’s bushy eyebrows gathered into a frown. “How could you even mention prosecuting her after all she’s done for Sheena? I didn’t see you attacking that carriage d
river in your sister’s defense.”

  “I didn’t even see the damned carriage driver,” Connor retorted. “Do you think he’d have gotten away with Sheena if I’d been in the courtyard?”

  “Be that as it may,” the earl continued, “bravery must be rewarded. There’s too much apathy in the world. It would be better for everyone if we concentrated our efforts on finding Sheena instead of harassing this young woman. She only meant to help, and we must do the same in return.”

  Connor rubbed his face, refusing to be drawn into a debate he could never win. No matter how many triumphs he claimed in the courtroom, no matter that the rest of the country regarded him with awe, he had never won an argument with his own bullheaded family. They were his personal cross to bear. And now this girl, this urchin-princess, with the beguiling blue eyes and incredible arrogance—what was he supposed to do with her?

  He drew Inspector Davies to the door. “Tell me what I can do to help find Sheena. I can’t stay in this house another hour.”

  “There’s nothing much to do at this point but to wait,” Davies said somberly. “There’s no chance your sister knew the assailant, is there?”

  “How would I know?” The ugly blade of reality was cutting through Connor’s composure to fray his nerves. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “Yes. It’s a valid question. Sheena didn’t have many friends, and I disliked the ones she brought home. Until recently she was engaged to marry a convict, completely against my wishes, of course.”

  “A convict? Dear me.”

  “I made certain he left for Italy over a fortnight ago,” Connor said, his face darkening at the memory of the ugly scene that had ensued. “Sheena saw his ship off and hasn’t spoken a civil word to me since.”

  Davies pursed his lips. “I see. Well, there are quite a few people who still hold grudges against you, my lord, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I do know.” Connor hated the thought that, just now, in her own way, Sheena was one of them. But she would come around. She would see the wisdom of his decision and forgive him. If—when she was found. She had always been a sad child, beyond the scope of Connor’s capacity to influence. Sometimes he suspected she deliberately tried to upset him, to make him prove he cared.

  He glanced toward the bed at the pale girl who watched him in guarded curiosity. Had one of his enemies sent her? Was her innocence the subtle weapon that would break him down when more brutal tactics had failed? No. No. It didn’t make sense. But then nothing about Miss Saunders did, her allegedly noble background and connections to the criminal underworld, her presence in Connor’s house. She was a mystery. Unfortunately for her, however, solving mysteries was his strong point.

  He returned to Maggie’s side after a moment’s deliberation. He refused to be moved by the sight of the bandage wrapped around her head. He refused to worship at her tiny feet like everyone else in his blasted household. She had been caught red-handed in a criminal act. He knew how to treat her type. The thought counteracted the sting of guilt he felt as her eyes met his, bright with alarm.

  He ignored the faint start she gave as he towered over her, his stance purposefully intimidating. To his frustration he couldn’t decide if he was more angry because she had broken into his home, or because he had started to fantasize a romantic future with her on the basis of their one absurd encounter. He must have sounded like an utter moron to Elliot.

  “Excuse me, Miss Saunders, if that is indeed your name,” he said in a dry voice. “When you’re finished holding court to my household, do you think you could try to recall a few more details about my sister’s abduction?”

  Maggie would have taken offense at his tone if Ardath hadn’t leaped to her defense before she had the chance. Maggie was rapidly amending her earlier impression of the woman. Ardath might enjoy such unconventional pastimes as dancing about half-dressed in the rain, but she did have her good points. She was highly intelligent with strong maternal instincts. She believed in speaking her mind.

  “Don’t you dare start upsetting her again,” Ardath said from the other side of the bed. “Upsetting her won’t make her remember. Just look at her, Connor. She has a bandage on her head. One makes exceptions for the injured.”

  “Not to mention her bruised ribs,” the earl added in concern.

  Dr. Sinclair turned from the dressing table, shaking a phial of powder. “She’s also got—”

  “A hell of a lot of nerve,” Connor said loudly, finally losing his temper.

  The echo of his voice resonated like thunder in the silence that fell over the room. The chambermaid, who had just brought up a warm comforter, thumped a pillow in disapproval. Ardath crossed her arms over her chest and gave Connor a shaming look.

  Maggie put down the bouquet of flowers, watching Connor with a curious mixture of sympathy and foreboding. He was rather magnificent, if you could overlook his beastly reputation and penchant for putting people in prison. He certainly knew how to command attention. She admired that in a man. It indicated character, and to be fair she had to concede she probably wasn’t seeing him at his best.

  “I was about to say that she has a concussion.” Dr. Sinclair’s voice was curt. “There’s a knot on her head the size of an orange. If she does not remember everything that happened tonight, I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

  Connor gritted his teeth, staring at Maggie in open suspicion. “She broke into my house to steal a legal document—”

  “Excuse us, my lord,” a polite male voice interrupted from the door. “The trays are here.”

  “What trays?” Connor looked up with a scowl. “I don’t remember ordering any trays.”

  Ardath motioned pleasantly to the man in the doorway. “Bring it in, Forbes.”

  The butler opened the door all the way to admit a train of servants pushing a trolley and carrying several trays. Connor stared in disbelief as Forbes swept past him to display a silver platter on the trolley for Ardath’s inspection. You’d have thought a royal banquet was in progress. He’d never dreamed his staff was capable of such service. He practically had to beg for a biscuit, but then Connor had always considered it one of life’s little ironies that his own employees and family didn’t seem to have a clue of his importance.

  “Cook suggested this to revive our little patient, Mrs. Macmillan,” the butler said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  Ardath nodded in appreciation. “And very nice too. Give Cook my compliments.”

  The butler whipped off the domed cover with a flourish and sank a carving knife into the crisply browned skin of a roast turkey bulging with dressing. Connor shook himself out of his astonished trance. It was too much.

  “That is a roast turkey, Ardath.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “Nothing escapes your notice, does it, Connor?” She glanced warmly at Maggie. “Dark or white meat, my dear?”

  Maggie sat up, her blue eyes wide with incredulity. Was it possible, she wondered, to sneak an entire turkey back to Heaven’s Court? “Oh, I couldn’t—is that chestnut dressing?”

  Connor raised his voice. “That is the roast turkey we were serving at the party.”

  “Well, there isn’t going to be a party.” The earl slid his stool aside to let Forbes position a tray on Maggie’s lap. “Not with your sister abducted, and everyone too distraught to enjoy themselves. Everyone except her own brother, who is probably the reason she was abducted to begin with.”

  Inspector Davies took out his pen and notebook. “A revenge abduction, you think, Lord Glenbrodie? Did anyone hear mention of a ransom note yet?”

  A pair of maidservants bustled around the bed, forcing Connor back toward the door. “Mind you dinna burn yerself with this tea, miss.”

  “Do you take sugar. Miss Saunders, or do you prefer bein’ called Lady Marguerite?”

  Connor straightened abruptly. “Excuse me—Lady Marguerite?”

  “Our Miss Saunders is the daughter of a French duke who was working as a secret agent against Napoleon,” Ardath ex
plained quietly. “She was living in exile with an elderly Scottish aunt until a few years ago. She isn’t just anyone off the street.”

  “Really, Ardath?” Connor said, pretending to look impressed. “I wonder how many other housebreakers in the city are actually deposed aristocrats and foreign spies in disguise? Could it be—should I check whether our chimney sweep is actually the King of Siam?”

  Maggie released a sigh as Dr. Sinclair handed her a small glass of brown medicine. “I don’t think his lordship believes me. Not that he doesn’t have good cause. By the way, my lord, I don’t expect preferential treatment. You may call me Miss Saunders. Oh, this dressing is delicious. I hope everyone will forgive me for eating with such abandon. I haven’t had a meal like this in years. It must have cost a fortune.”

  The earl and Ardath shared sympathetic looks. “You eat to your heart’s content, lassie,” he told her. “My nephew can certainly afford it.”

  Connor was jostled back to the bed as the door opened to admit a maid bearing a platter of imported fruits and cheeses. A muscle ticking in his jaw, he watched Maggie make room on her tray for the light dessert course. Bending on the pretense of picking up a napkin, he said in an undertone, “Going into hibernation, are we?”

  Maggie didn’t answer. How could she? She was stuffing a Spanish orange into her mouth like a greedy little squirrel. Hell, Connor wouldn’t be surprised if the bed gave under her weight. He couldn’t begin to guess where she would put it all, but she had been served enough food to sustain an army of Highlanders on a winter march.

  But then suddenly she expelled a weary sigh and dropped her head back against the pillow. Her appetite apparently had been sated after a few hearty bites of fruit and cheese. Her delicate fingers were wrapped around the turkey drumstick she had yet to taste. Connor straightened slowly, a crosscurrent of emotions catching him unaware. Empathy, attraction, curiosity—all overlaid with a logic that told him she was a very clever, very pretty little fraud whose appearance tonight probably had nothing to do with Sheena’s abduction. He’d gone hungry more than once in his own life, and he couldn’t help putting himself in her place. Wouldn’t he have taken advantage of a similar situation?