Chapter Two

August 1816

Twynholm, Scotland

“A h, my lord.” Viscount Wilson extended his arm and greeted Malcolm with a handshake and a quick bow of his head as he entered the library. “I thank ye for agreeing to attend and monitor our guests. With the thief still roaming the countryside, I immediately thought of ye to ensure our valuables stay within our own walls. My wife is verra concerned.”

A stealthy thief had been taking advantage of estate owners while they were preoccupied with the hustle and bustle of hosting balls and parties to steal from the owners undetected. Viscount Wilson, like many of the other nobles, was rightfully concerned he and his wife would be the next victims.

“Of course, my lord.” Malcolm looked forward to the distraction. He missed the excitement of the chase. The secrecy of the mission.

As the Earl of Cassilis, running the day-to-day operations of Culzean Castle and its surrounding lands, as well as his additional holdings, occupied his time. But he was bored with the monotony of signing papers and poring over books and accounts. He was lucky that when he returned from the war, his estate had been handled properly.

He knew many that hadn’t had such an easy return home, his best friends included.

So, while he was grateful, he grew tired of the doldrum.

Malcolm needed action to fill his days.

When he received the letter from the viscount about his upcoming ball in Twynholm, he’d nearly tossed the invitation in the fire—until his eyes fell upon the first line.

I need your expertise…

Intrigued, Malcolm read on to learn of Wilson’s worry that the thief, who had been dubbed the Phantom Prowler, would try to help himself to some of the many items of value held within Wilson’s estate.

The absurd moniker came from the mystery surrounding the thief’s true identity. Many believed he was someone in high society, since nearly every ball or party host had fallen victim. But just as easily, it could be one of the victim’s servants. There just wasn’t enough information yet.

“Let me show ye the portion of the estate we would like to keep private, and, most importantly, free of guests or possible intruders.” Wilson led the way.

Malcolm followed him out of the library and up the blue-carpeted stairs. From there, they walked down the hallway that led them to what Malcolm assumed was the viscount and viscountesses bed chambers.

“We may have guests up on this floor for various reasons, but our bed chambers are strictly off limits to everyone.”

“That is understandable.” Malcolm wouldn’t want a stranger rummaging about in his bed chamber either.

The ornate door groaned as Wilson pushed it open, and Malcolm trailed him into what was clearly Lady Wilson’s chamber.

He adjusted his cravat, uncomfortable in such a private space that should not be privy to his or any other man’s eyes.

A canopied bed decorated in light-blue linens and piled high with lace-trimmed cream pillows was centered in the room. A white vanity table and large looking glass were set in one corner. A rolling tray filled with various bottles, jars, and tins of powders, lotions, and pomades, stood at the side of the table.

Against the far wall stood a large mahogany wardrobe. The viscount approached it, throwing the doors open wide.

“This, this is what I want ye to ensure stays intact.” He pointed to a jewelry armoire tucked inside. “My wife covets her collection of jewels, and she would be devastated if even a single piece came up missing.”

Malcolm straightened.

“I promise ye have naught to fash about, my lord.” His confidence imbued in each word. “Lady Wilson’s jewels will remain in her possession.”

A smile spread across Wilson’s ruddy face as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together with delight.

“I knew ye were the right man for the job, Lord Kennedy. Thanks to the fine work ye did with Wellington, your reputation is known throughout both the lowlands and the highlands.” He clasped Malcom’s shoulder as he led them out into the hall. “Uncovering that traitor who dared to sell us out to the enemy was quite the triumph.” He clapped him on the shoulder and dropped his hand. “Excellent work.”

Malcolm forced a tight smile, because the memories still burned.

Angus had been old enough to know of his wrongdoing. But seven and ten was too young to have one’s life snuffed out. There was much he could have accomplished, had he only chosen a different path.

He cleared his throat to rid his mind of his morbid thoughts and focused on the task at hand.

“What time do ye expect your guests to begin arriving?” He followed the viscount down the stairs.

Happy for the distraction of discussions surrounding the event, Malcolm listened as Wilson babbled on about who he expected to be in attendance at this evening’s ball.

“We’ve invited Gunn Burnett, Laird of Leys, as well,” Wilson said.

It made sense, after all, Twynholm was close to Gunn’s southern estate. It had been some time since they’d seen each other, and since they were the only two unmarried men left in their group of friends, it was important they stick together. Malcolm’s spirits lifted upon hearing that one of his best friends might make an appearance.

*

Annabel “Lizzie” Barclay fussed with the front of her gown.

“Ye have your invitation, Miss?” Mary, her maid and someone she considered a friend, had been going on incessantly and ensuring she did not forget her party invitation.

“Aye, Mary.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. “’Tis the tenth time ye’ve asked me such.”

“I am only making certain that ye can attend the party, Miss.” Her maid could be quite fretful at times.

“Look,” Lizzie reached into her reticule and pulled out the rectangle paper, waving it in the air. “See? ’Tis right here.” It was actually her parents’ invitation had they decided to attend—which they did not, due to prior engagements.

“Will ye approach Lady Wilson?” Mary’s brown brows furrowed in concern.

Lizzie turned in her chair and grasped her maid’s hands.

“Dinna fash, Mary. I only intend to recover my dear grandmama’s jewelry. She kept her tone light, unconcerned. “Once I have it back in my possession, I will exit the party promptly.”

“I still dinna think much of your plan, Miss.” Mary worried her bottom lip. “What if ye are caught?”

“I shan’t be.” Lizzie gave her hands a gentle squeeze, released them, and stood. She strolled over to the large window and gazed out into the dusky evening. “I will be verra careful.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled at her maid. “I promise.”

“If your parents were to find out what ye are truly doing…” she whispered and continued wringing her hands together, leaving the unspoken words hanging in the air like a heavy cloud on the rainiest of days.

“Mary, cease these negative thoughts at once.” She whisked them away with a flick of her wrist. “They will no’ find out, and ye will no’ tell them either.”

“’Tis my duty to keep ye safe, Miss. We already are no’ where we said we would be.”

That was true. She had convinced her parents to let her travel south to visit a close friend that had recently moved to Twynholm. Once she had seen the invitation her parents had received requesting their presence at the Wilsons’ ball, she knew it was her chance.

Intrigued by the Phantom Prowler, she’d followed the articles published in the papers with a great deal of enthusiasm. However, when jewels had disappeared from her own home, Tolton Hall, her countenance went from titillation to anger.

Gone were her grandmama’s jewelry. A beautiful pair of earrings bedecked with stunning sapphires of the deepest blue, and a necklace to match. Lizzie had always loved staring at them in her mother’s jewelry armoire. They reminded her of her beloved grandmama and the close relationship they’d shared. When she passed two years ago, Lizzie was bereft. She missed her dearly and thought of her every day.

With the precious pieces gone, she’d set about to uncover the prowler and recover the jewels that were rightfully hers. Now she was certain she’d figured out the identity of the Phantom Prowler.

Unlike the papers who thought the thief was a man, Lizzie kenned better. Nay, the thief was a woman. A viscountess no less.

Lizzie cared naught if Viscountess Wilson continued with her thievery. The woman’s secret was safe with her. All she wanted was her grandmama’s jewels back.

She was determined that, before the night was over, she would have regained possession of what rightfully belonged to her.

In the morn, with jewels in her hand, she and Mary would leave and return to Stonehaven and Tolton Hall.

No one would have been harmed, and no one would be the wiser. She believed her plan was foolproof.

“I dinna care for it, Miss.”

Realizing she would not sway Lizzie to change her mind, Mary finally shook her head. “But ye will do as ye wish either way.”

“All will be well, Mary.” She dropped back onto the chair and studied her reflection in the looking glass. “Blast this hair.” She huffed out a breath, and the dark curl that had fallen on her forehead fluttered. It was a constant battle to keep that one curl under control. She swore its life’s purpose was to annoy her to the ends of the earth.

“Ye have lovely locks.” Mary approached and picked up the brush from the vanity and began pulling it through Lizzie’s thick waves. “Have ye a particular style in mind for your hair tonight?”

Lizzie thought about it for a moment and came to the conclusion that she didn’t. “Nay, Mary. Ye have free rein to do what ye will.” A huge grin broke out on Lizzie’s face. “Surprise me.”

Almost three hours later, Lizzie smiled at the Wilson’s butler.

“Good evening.” She greeted and handed him her parents’ invitation, and holding her breath for fear she’d be turned away.

“Welcome, Miss Barclay.” The elderly man bowed, and, with a sweep of his slender arm, allowed her entry.

She breathed a sigh of relief when his attention was immediately drawn to the next person arriving.

Well, that was simple.

Lizzie made her way to the ballroom, carefully surveying the halls as she passed. One of those corridors would lead her to the treasure she sought. But which one? She would have to pay attention and gauge the best time for her to slip away and start her exploration.

Her heart jumped in her chest so forcefully, she was certain anyone standing nearby would hear it over the orchestra playing on the stage.

The ballroom was decorated in an autumnal theme. Flowers of orange, brown, and gold arranged in huge vases were positioned in the center of each round table in the room. The table coverings were the color of tree bark, adding to the overall nature feel of the party.

Fallen leaves had been collected and used to make garland that hung in various places throughout the room.

Eliminate the music and the light din of conversation, and it was like walking through the woods on a late September evening.

“Viscountess Wilson.” Lizzie greeted the hostess with a curtsy. “Your estate is lovely. The decorations are absolutely stunning and fitting for the time of year.”

“Thank ye.” The woman gave her a polite society smile, cocked her head, and studied her.

Lizzie realized the viscountess had no idea who she was. Which made sense—it had been years since they had seen each other, back when Lizzie was a young lass.

“I apologize, my lady. Lizzie Barclay. My parents send their apologies.”

“Ah, aye.” Her smile warmed. “I was sorry to hear your parents were unable to attend. ’Tis sweet of ye to appear in their absence.”

“I happened to be in the area visiting a dear friend and thought it was only right since ye and the viscount were so kind to extend the invitation.” And it gives me the opportunity to retrieve what belongs to me.

“I do hope ye enjoy your evening,” the viscountess said.

“Thank ye.” She curtsied and her hostess moved away.

As Lizzie watched her smile and greet her other guests in her magnificent gown and perfectly coiffed hair, she never would have suspected the viscountess was the Phantom Prowler. It was only with her dogged determination that she was able to uncover the viscountess as the thief. She pored over articles published in the papers, taking note of all the details of the robberies. She paid attention to those who were in attendance at the balls, until all was revealed. It could be no one else but her.

Considering the opulence on full display in the estate, lack of money did not seem to be of worry. Of course, it could all be a facade but, if it were, it was extremely elaborate and quite convincing.

Nay, she was certain the Wilsons were quite wealthy.

Lizzie accepted an offered flute of champagne from a passing servant. The fizzy bubbles tickled her nose as she took a small sip. As much as she would love naught more than to down the entire glass for the courage it would offer, she needed to keep all her senses in check. It was the only way to ensure her plan would be successful.

Fiddling with the dance card tied around her wrist, she tried to hide it inside her glove. She was not interested in attracting the attention of anyone of the opposite sex this night. The more people who took notice of her, the harder it would be for her to slip away. For that very reason, she looked around and slunk toward the edges of the room. She stood near the tall double doors decorated with white trim that led to the living quarters and surely the master chambers of both the viscount and viscountess.

Everything she knew about women of her hostess’s standing told Lizzie she would find her grandmama’s jewelry stowed somewhere in the viscountess’s chamber. That was where she needed to begin her search.

Movement from the other side of the door caught her attention. She turned and her breath hitched when her gaze clashed with stormy blue eyes belonging to one of the most handsome faces she had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Just as quickly as the connection was made, it was lost when he turned and walked in the opposite direction. As he spoke with the viscount, she examined the way his broad shoulders stretched the seams of his coat. Lizzie hadn’t the faintest idea who the man was, but her curiosity was piqued, and should he approach her and ask her to dance, she would not deny him.

So much for swearing off dancing for the night.

“Concentrate, Lizzie,” she mumbled to herself.

She gave a quick shake of her head to rid her mind of thoughts of the mystery man, sipped her champagne, and against her better judgement, went ahead and finished the entire glass.

A warm feeling enveloped her, which she attributed to the champagne working its way through her body, and not the handsome stranger whose brief glance still lingered on her skin.