“A full mask, then, and all white?” Anthony said, his voice so gentle and reassuring that Eleanor looked at him, surprised.
The Indian woman nodded. “Yes. It does not sound like much, but it scared me. It was as though he did not have a face at all.”
“I can imagine,” Eleanor commented. “It’s not at all surprising that he frightened you.”
“I screamed when he turned around. And he ran toward me. I could not get out of his way fast enough, and he shoved me hard. I stumbled and fell down. Then everyone came. But he had run down the stairs and out of the house.”
“Did no one else see him?” Anthony asked.
Zachary, after a questioning glance at Anthony, said, “No. I wish I had. I was in the office when I heard her scream, and I came up the back stairs, as they were closer. He went down the front.”
“I did,” one of the footmen admitted, lifting his hand somewhat shamefacedly. “I heard Miss Kerani scream, and I went running to the stairs. But that bloke was barreling down the stairs, and he ran straight into me. Knocked me halfway across the room, and by the time I got to me feet, he was out the front door. I went after him, but…” He shrugged. “I couldn’t see him.”
“No one else was about, Miss Eleanor,” Bartwell put in. “Everyone was back in the kitchens or already gone up to bed.”
“Well, at least no one was hurt,” Eleanor said. “Did he take anything?”
“I don’t know, miss. He made a mess in your room, but it was hard to tell if anything was gone.”
“Why don’t we go up and look?” Anthony suggested.
Eleanor thought about pointing out that this whole matter was none of his concern. But, frankly, it was strangely comforting to have his large, calm presence beside her, so she made no comment as he took her arm and went up the stairs beside her. The others followed them.
On the way up the stairs, they met the two children, who popped up to greet them. “Eleanor! Was it a thief? Did he take anything? Who do you think it was? The same as before?”
“The same as before?” Anthony turned to look at her. “This is a common occurrence?”
“No. I am sure it has nothing to do with this. It was when we were still in Naples. Someone broke into the house, but nothing was taken. That is all.”
“I see. You are doubtless right. It was not connected.”
Eleanor turned back to the children. “You two should be in bed. It is long past your bedtime.”
“How could we sleep?” the girl, Claire, asked reasonably.
“It’s far too exciting,” Nathan agreed. “We want to see if he took anything.”
“Very well. But then you will let Kerani take you straight back to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Eleanor continued up the stairs and to the doorway of her bedroom. “Oh, my.” She stopped and looked in some dismay at her room.
The drawers of her vanity and dresser stood open, as did the doors of her wardrobe, and clothes were scattered about, spilling out of the drawers, as though someone had rifled through them hastily. A chair had been turned upside down, and the pillows of the bed had been tossed aside, the mattress shoved halfway off. A music box stood on its side and open on the dresser, as well as a small chest, its lid up, necklaces spilling down the side of it. Earrings, brooches and such lay tumbled across the top of her dresser.
Eleanor walked over to the dresser, and Anthony followed her, glancing around the room. Eleanor turned the small music box upright and closed it, then looked through her jewelry box, picking up all the pieces and putting them back where they belonged.
“Is anything missing?”
“I—I’m not sure. Offhand, I don’t think so. No, wait, there is a brooch gone. A silver one. Oh, and a cloisonné locket.” She frowned. “It’s very odd. They were not even the most valuable pieces in this box. My garnets are still here, and they are worth more. And this is just my everyday jewelry. All the really valuable pieces are downstairs in the safe.”
She turned to Bartwell, who was standing inside the door. “What about the safe? Was anything taken?”
“No, miss. Nothing happened to the safe. I was working in the butler’s room right next to it, so I’m certain of that. The silver plate is all still there in the butler’s pantry, as well. I looked around downstairs, and none of your pictures or doodads are missing.”
Anthony cast Eleanor a questioning look at the butler’s words, and a faint smile touched her lips. “My pieces of art, he means.”
“Anything of Edmund’s?” Anthony asked.
Eleanor looked faintly alarmed and turned to Bartwell. “Did you look in Sir Edmund’s room?”
“No, miss, I didn’t think about it.”
Eleanor hurried out of the room and across the hall, opening the door into a room the twin of hers in size and shape, where Edmund had briefly stayed before their move to Italy. The furniture was heavy and dark, richly carved. It was a tidy room, obviously kept dusted and ready, but there was an empty quality to its neatness that spoke of the lack of an occupant.
The light from the hallway revealed that this bedroom had not been ransacked, but Eleanor went to the desk in the corner and laid her hands on a rosewood box. She opened it, then closed the lid and turned away, seemingly satisfied. “I don’t think anything was disturbed in here.”
They left the room and stood for a moment in the hallway. Eleanor glanced around at the waiting faces, all watching her expectantly. “Bartwell, why don’t you set the maids to putting my room back in order? Kerani, take the children to bed. And perhaps we had better set up a watch for the night, just in case.”
“I will take first watch,” Zachary offered.
“And I’ll relieve you,” Bartwell added.
“Very well.” Eleanor nodded. They were the two whom she trusted most. “Thank you.” She turned to Anthony. “Now, Lord Neale, if you will join me in my office…”
She turned briskly and led the way down the stairs to her office. Anthony followed her, ignoring the curious looks of the household.
Once inside the office, Eleanor went to a small cabinet on which sat two cut glass decanters and an array of glasses. “Would you care for a whiskey?”
“Yes, thank you,” Anthony responded, somewhat surprised. He was even more astonished when he saw Eleanor pour another glass for herself.
She handed him one of the glasses, and, seeing the askance glance he sent toward the one she held, she smiled. “The best remedy for shock, my father always said.”
“What? Oh, yes. I suppose it is.” Anthony took a drink, watching as Eleanor sipped at the amber liquid, grimacing a little at its strong taste.
She shivered, and Anthony reached out to lay a hand upon her arm. “Are you all right?”
She looked up at him. The whiskey lay like fire in her stomach, sending its heat throughout her body. Though it was meant only as a comforting gesture, she was very aware of his hand on her bare skin. She remembered the moment in the carriage when she had thought he was about to kiss her. The air was once again charged between them, as it had been then, and her flesh tingled where his skin touched hers. Eleanor tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes gazed down into hers, capturing and holding her as surely as if he had taken her in his hands.
Anthony took a half step closer, his hand sliding up her arm, sending prickles of sensation through her. Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared