Legend Of The Highland Dragon by Isabel Cooper Read Free Book Online

her face pale gold in the amber lamplight. In it, her eyes were very large and dark. She took a long breath and looked up at Stephen. “You haven’t heard from Ward at all between then and now? This is the first time he’s tried anything?”
    “Moore’s death was, yes. To the best of my knowledge. Ward wouldn’t have known where I was until I came to London. He’d hate Moore and Carter, as well, for throwing their lot in with the guide and for not lying for him, but I think he hates me most of all.”
    “Because you stopped him,” said Mina.
    “Because I was stronger than he was, and he couldna’ kill me,” said Stephen, “and because he didna’ know what I was. Being powerless can give a man a powerful hunger for revenge.”
    “Ah,” Miss Seymour said, and Stephen was relieved to hear neither judgment nor sympathy in her voice. She let a moment pass in silence: perhaps a measure of respect, perhaps just buying herself time to think. “Why are you here now?”
    That question was easy enough to answer, if still painful in its own way. “My father passed on six months ago. He conducted our business affairs. They require a presence in the city. I’m his heir.”
    “Speaking of heirs—Ward’s family, or what there is of it?”
    “Not very much. One nephew, who never met him. The police questioned him about Moore’s death, once I’d given them the information. The nephew is over thirty, with a wife and three children, and a fair bit of history in his neighborhood. That doesn’t mean he’s not working with his uncle, but Scotland Yard hasn’t found anything on him.”
    “Besides,” said Miss Seymour, with a cynical little smile, “you made him a rich man. If anything, I think he’d send you flowers. You’ve talked a good bit to the Yard, then?”
    Stephen nodded. “Carter, as well. We told them…as much as we could, with certain alterations. We said it was an older cousin of mine involved in the original dispute.”
    Before Miss Seymour could respond to that, Stephen heard the kitchen door open and a maid’s exclamation of surprise cut hastily short. He didn’t turn. “Is that satisfactory?” he asked.
    “It will be, for the moment,” Miss Seymour said.
    “Good.” Stephen did turn, then, and faced the maid. A moment’s fumbling brought him a name. “Polly, this is Miss Seymour, my new secretary. Kindly find an appropriate room for her. Miss Seymour, make yourself at home as much as you can.”
    “And my things?”
    “We’ll retrieve them tomorrow,” he said, and stood to leave.

Six
    Polly, a short blonde girl who looked a little younger than Mina herself, stood silent for a moment after Lord MacAlasdair departed. From the way she chewed on her lower lip and the way her gaze shifted between Mina and the middle distance, she was trying to figure out whether the house even had an appropriate room. MacAlasdair had said he didn’t entertain often. He also didn’t keep that many servants, clearly, and “secretary” was an odd position, somewhere between the two.
    Not to mention that Polly, unless she was a very trusting soul indeed, had to doubt that “secretary” was Mina’s real role.
    Mina bit back the urge to say anything—Polly wouldn’t believe it, anyway—and tried not to blush.
    Finally, the maid sucked in air through her teeth and nodded to herself. “Wait here, please, miss,” she said, and took herself off, leaving Mina alone in the dimly lit kitchen.
    As she’d done before when Lord MacAlasdair had left to seek a doctor, she folded her hands in her lap and made herself sit still, taking slow, deep breaths. Panic would help nothing, she reminded herself. Fretting would help nothing; anger would help nothing. She was where she was.
    And the shadows in the corners weren’t moving this time. She kept checking. That wasn’t panic. That was just reasonable caution, although MacAlasdair wouldn’t have left her alone with Polly if he thought the manes could come back.