A Most Dangerous Profession (22 page)

“It must have been a trick of the light.”

“It had to be, since—” He frowned and wrinkled his nose. He turned to one of the footmen. “I smell smoke!”

The man stiffened and answered immediately, his Scots burr pronounced. “I’m sorry, sir. There was a slight fire in the upstairs hallway shortly after you and Mrs. Hurst left. Actually, there were
two
fires, both small and quickly extinguished.”

“Who started them?”

“I dinna know, sir, for I’ve been here since, but I’ll run and see what’s been discovered.”

“Do that and report back.”

The man gave a short bow and raced off.

“Goodness,” Moira murmured.

Ross turned back to her, his face an unhealthy red. “I can assure you
that
wasn’t caused by ghosts, either.” He took her elbow. “Now, where were we?”

She smiled and covered his hand with her own. “You, my lord, were about to show me something from Egypt.”

His expression softened and he squeezed her fingers. “Ah, yes!”

They entered the study and Moira’s gaze instantly swept the room. There was no sign of Robert.

Is he hiding in the curtains?

Her gaze swept across the floor to the curtains. There was no way a person could hide behind them without their feet showing.

Robert would find a better place.

She smiled up at Ross. “Do you mind if I open some curtains? It’s a bit dark in here.”

“Of course. I shall help.”

“Thank you.” She crossed the room, waiting until Ross’s back was turned so she could look for Robert. She bent over to peek under a settee, but saw nothing. Scurrying, she went to another large grouping of furniture and looked under a fringed chaise. She’d just straightened when Ross turned.

She dropped into the chaise. “What a lovely ride! I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to show me your beautiful mountains.”

He beamed as he crossed to her. “They are lovely, aren’t they? Although not as lovely as my companion.”

She pressed a hand to her cheek and said in a
chiding tone, “Oh, Sir Lachlan!”
Perhaps Robert escaped and we just missed him. He could have
—Then she saw the edge of his shoe under the huge oak desk, in the direct line of sight of anyone sitting down.

She hopped up, surprising Ross. “So? Where are these treasures of yours?” she asked.

“A few of them are on display here.” He waved a hand toward the shelves at the far end of the room.

She gave them a cursory glance, not daring to move away from the desk. “I see. Those are . . . nice. But do you have some that
aren’t
on display?”

“Of course. There’s not room here for all of them.”

“Where do you keep those?”

“Somewhere safe,” he replied in a tone suggesting it was too complicated for a mere female to understand.

She’d love to smack that patronizing look off his face. She walked to where Ross now stood beside the shelves he’d pointed out, making certain she was between him and the desk. “Your collection must be worth a fortune. Is that why you have guards set up outside?”

“Guards? No, no, Mrs. Hurst, you mistake. They’re merely footmen.”

“But there are so many.”

“I dislike surprises. They make sure there aren’t any.” He chuckled, then captured her hand and pressed a fervent kiss to it. “No need to worry your pretty head over it, m’dear. Some things are better left to the men.”

The words grated on Moira’s nerves. She’d never counted on a man in her entire life and was glad of it.

Some of her irritation must have shown on her face, for Ross’s thick brows lowered and he said in a rather uncertain voice, “Is-is something wrong? You seem—”

“I’m fine, thank you. I was just wondering about your artifacts. Tell me about them.”

He launched into a rather thin explanation that made it obvious he knew only minimal information.

While he spoke, she moved to the desk and leaned against it, spreading her skirts a bit to cover the edge of Robert’s shoe. Then she stepped on it lightly.

From where he hid, Robert grimaced and pulled in his foot.
Damn it, I thought I was well hidden.

As soon as he moved, Moira whisked away from the desk.

Robert tilted his head so that he could see her standing by a large black marble sculpture of a
jackal. Ross’s back was now to Robert, too.
Clever girl.

Moira touched the statue’s wolflike head. “Ah, Anubis.”

“Who?”

“Anubis is the god the jackal represents. He was the god of death. Where did you find this piece?”

“I have many sources for my collection. I buy. I sell. Sometimes I keep something special.”

Yes, something you think has extra value.

There were many men who collected artifacts for the sheer pleasure of owning a piece of history. They were very careful with the objects, and many items would be lost or destroyed if not for them. Robert disliked it when men collected artifacts solely for their monetary value, without regard to their historical worth. Their possession of such valuable treasures was like hanging a diamond necklace on a donkey.

Robert watched as Moira sent Ross a look from under her lashes. It was an intentionally sensual look, and yet she made it somehow seem innocent. “I would love to see your private collection.
If
there are Egyptian items in it.”

“There are a few. Since you know so much about artifacts, what can you tell me about that
one?” Ross pointed to the next statue on the shelf.

“The Madonna? Fifteenth century, I’d think. Perhaps Spain.”

“How can you tell?”

“The style, the smoothness of the stone—even the base tells you something about the piece. Hurst is an avid collector, and I’ve picked up information here and there.”

“I’ve no doubt you’re vastly superior in judging such artifacts.” His tone indulged her.

“Not compared to Hurst. When it comes to collections, Robert is an expert though it’s a love of mine, too. Some women love jewels, some houses, some gowns.” Robert saw her elegant shrug. “I prefer antiquities.”

“Perhaps that is the reason you married Hurst. I haven’t been able to see what the attraction could be. He’s not the sort of man I’d think a woman like you would enjoy.”

“He has his uses, as do all husbands. But one should never expect too much from a husband. They can’t answer
every
need.”

“My dear,” Ross murmured.

The reprobate must have made a move toward Moira, for she spun away and Robert saw only her riding boots as she strode across the room toward the
far fireplace, Ross following like a well-trained pup.

The little minx already has him under her spell
, Robert thought, amused and annoyed.

He moved so he could watch Moira approach the fire. Something about her carriage sent the unmistakable message that while she was interested in a conversation with Ross, she by no means wished to be touched . . . yet.

Robert couldn’t decide what exactly sent that message. It was a combination of her upright carriage, her expression, and the manner in which she tilted her chin. She was masterful.
No wonder I fell for her all those years ago.

He suddenly wondered if she’d played the same tricks on him—but of course she had. He’d been no more important than Ross.

Except . . . Robert had made it through her defenses and to her bed. Which raised a new, far more interesting question: why had she made an exception for him?

Robert saw Ross’s hand curl into a frustrated fist as he faced the invisible wall Moira had erected about herself.

“Ross,” Moira almost purred the name.

The hand relaxed.

“This piece my husband purchased from you, the onyx box. What does it look like?”

“It’s rather plain, though it is inscribed with some interesting runes.” He shrugged. “I can’t imagine it is worth much.”

“That is the problem with Hurst. He never pursues the
really
fascinating pieces. Just last week someone approached him about a jade funeral mask.
Jade
. And he would have nothing to do with it.”

“Perhaps it was a fake. There are many of those about.”

“I’m certain that it wasn’t. Besides, the man had to know who he was dealing with. Robert would have called the man out, had he suspected such a thing.”

Robert heard the interest in Ross’s voice as he said in far-too-casual a tone, “Oh, really?”

“Oh, yes. Robert considers people who deal in fakes the lowest form of humanity, and he is quick to exact revenge, regardless of the embarrassment it might cause.”

There was a definite pause before Ross said, “That’s very conscientious of him.”

“You may have noticed that Hurst is a bit . . . particular about things.”

“That had dawned on me,” Ross said drily.

“To him, a person who deals in fakes is like a badly tied cravat. It’s just bad form. And nothing matters more to Hurst.”

Ross made a disgusted noise. “There is little that matters to Hurst. That form should be one of them is—” He stopped, apparently too disgusted to continue.

Moira sighed. “Well, we all have our shortcomings. I fear I often crave excitement. I also possess a bit of a temper, and am impulsive. I’m no angel.”

Robert almost chuckled at Moira’s consummate ability to present herself as the perfect woman to seduce, while throwing up roadblocks to that seduction that were as large as a crypt door.

“Ross, if you don’t mind, I should return to my room now. I would like—”

A shout arose in the hallway, and cries of “fire” sent Ross running to the door. In the hallway footmen ran every which way, a low curl of smoke drifting between their legs.

Ross grabbed the closest footman. “What in the hell is going on?”

“Och, sir, we’ve two
more
fires on our hands.”

“Two?”

“Aye!” The footman gulped, obviously unhappy to be the one to have to report distressing news. “A tapestry in the main galley burst into flames at almost the same time a rug in the front hall began to smolder.”

“Damn it, that can’t be an accident!”

“Ye wouldn’t think it, sir. But it appears someone put a candle too close to the tapestry and forgot to snuff it this mornin’.”

“And the fire in the front hall?”

“It was caused by a hot coal from the bucket the sweeps carried after cleanin’ the fireplace.”

God bless Buffon. Right on time, too.

“Damn it! I hope that wasn’t one of the Danish tapestries; they cost me a bloody fortune.” Ross turned to Moira. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I must go; I shall have a footman escort you back to your room.”

“Thank you, but I believe I can find my own way.”

Ross took her hand and pressed a hasty kiss upon her fingers. “I hope we may ride again soon.”

She dropped into a curtsy. “As do I, my lord.”

With obvious reluctance, he released Moira’s hand and disappeared down the now-deserted hallway, calling for his butler.

Robert immediately climbed out from under the desk, then smoothed his coat before joining her. “I’ll walk you to the steps leading to our bedchambers, but then I plan on using Buffon’s disturbance to search a few more rooms.”

“I assumed this was his doing. I caught a glimpse of him at the end of the hallway when I
first arrived. That’s how I knew you were hiding in there.”

Robert pulled her hand through his arm and strolled into the hallway, through the running servants who paid them no heed. “Thank you for hiding my shoe. I had no idea it was in sight.”

“I take it you didn’t find anything.”

“Not a damn thing. Wherever the secret chamber is, it’s not in that room.”

“So what do we do now?”

“You will return to your room, for you’re far too noticeable wearing that habit.”

“And you?”

“As I said, I shall wander about a bit more and see what I can discover. If anyone sees me, I’ll tell them the noise awoke me and I had to come see the madness for myself. Did you learn anything from our illustrious host?”

“Beyond what you heard in the library? Not really. Riding isn’t conducive to conversation.”

“Perhaps you can lure him into revealing more at dinner.” He turned the corner, where a large tapestry smoldered on a wall, footmen with buckets standing around. A large puddle of water pooled upon the floor, and he carefully led Moira around it and on to the stairs.

As they climbed the stairs, Moira said, “Robert,
it might be useful if you have a headache this evening.”

“And excuse myself early?”

“Yes. If I can convince Ross that I
must
see his secret collection, and that I would find that
very
exciting, I think he’s fool enough to show it to me.”

“Why wait until dinner?”

“Because I think he will be more foolish after some port.”

“Ah. I will see to it that he imbibes more than his usual amount.”

“Good. Few men can refuse a true challenge.”

“Moira, I don’t like you spending too much time alone with Ross, so pray be cautious. He’s not a nice man.”

“Ah, but I’m not a nice woman.” Moira patted her skirt. “And I have my pistol.”

“You have it with you now?”

“I had a band made for the holster so I can strap it to my thigh.”

That made for an interesting image. “Very well. I’ll leave you alone with Ross after dinner, but only for an hour. I will be awaiting your return in your bedchamber.”

“Hopefully I will have something significant to tell you.” She smiled at him, and he was struck anew by the directness of her expression.
She trusts
me.
The thought unexpectedly made his chest tighten in an odd way.

She paused by the steps that led to their bedchambers. “If all goes well this evening, I should have the necessary information to find the onyx box.”

He bowed. “Until later, madam.”