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His fault, for drinking half a bottle like a complete fool. He didn’t mind a delay. Although he didn’t like being here at Wolfhaven, he did like Evaine. A lot.
He wasn’t quite so anxious to get back to London anymore.
“It wouldn’t hurt for us to get away from this place for a bit.” He shrugged. “Interact with living people instead of ghosts.”
She propped one hip against the counter and folded her arms. “I like that idea. Unless you have horses for three, however, I see no way to get there and back. Gran can’t walk that distance.”
“We’ll take the cart. It’s not the most elegant mode of transportation, but it will carry us that far and home again. In the meantime, what do you say we take another look at my father’s apartments? We ought to clean up the glass from the fallen grandfather clock, at least.”
Evaine’s lips tilted upward. She glanced out the window at the dreary weather. They certainly weren’t going anywhere today. “I have no plans after these pies come out of the oven, Your Grace. I am at your disposal.”
“That, Miss Ballard, is a dangerous offer.”
Chapter 24
Evaine
“This isn’t possible.” In the ducal apartments, she stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the duke gaping at the once-broken clock. Now it stood perfectly intact and in its previous place against the wall. Evaine stared at it. Gareth glanced at her, but she couldn’t stop.
He stretched long fingers out and gingerly touched the glass case face. “Solid. Real.”
“We didn’t imagine it falling,” she said flatly. “There was broken glass everywhere.”
“There isn’t now.”
“But it’s not possible,” she said again, hating this damned mansion. Wishing she had anywhere else to go.
“Why would it have fallen over?” Carefully, he eased the clock’s waist open to reveal the long pendulums. Nothing appeared amiss. He closed the case and shoved it hard. The base rocked slightly but otherwise the heavy clock didn’t move. “Not easily done.”
Evaine tapped her lower lip, thinking. Someone—or something—wanted them to pay attention to this clock.
“Did you look at the bottom of the case?” she asked, kneeling. With trepidation, she reached into the gap beneath the pendulums and felt…paper. Excitedly, she snagged it and pulled it out.
“A maker’s record,” she said, scanning the printed copy in puzzlement. “Basically, it’s a receipt with an explanation of how to maintain the machinery. Standard stuff. Oil it once in a while, adjust the timing, hire a professional repairer if anything goes wrong.”
“Nothing to do with Marina or my father.” Equally baffled, the duke took a step back, wincing when he put weight on his ankle.
“You really shouldn’t be walking.”
“I can’t lie in bed all day. If I’m going to do that I might as well head back to London without achieving my purpose of coming here in the first place. I would like this to be the last time I ever set foot on the property,” he said crossly. “Besides, I can’t leave you and your grandmother without a place to stay.”
“We could remain in the mansion. I can finish the inventory alone.”
“It’s too dangerous. Even with the Cogswells onsite, I can’t let you do that.”
“There is something hidden here that you don’t want me to find,” she said slowly, with dawning confidence that she was correct.
“Why would you think that?” He studied her face.
“You get angry every time I try to act independently, despite that being the most logical and efficient way to approach this. We still haven’t touched the music room, the servants’ quarters, the sitting rooms, or the parlor. We had to abandon our mission when we met the fox. Nor have we ventured into the north wing ruins where the fire took place.”
“There’s nothing left to see there.”
“Are you sure?”
He flinched and wouldn’t meet her eye.
“No,” he finally admitted after a long, pregnant pause. “I was in the hospital for months after my accident. I took the solicitor’s word for it that the northern section of the house was destroyed and the main house had been boarded up. Which has turned out to be true,” he pointed out.
