Page 111 of The Texan Duke
“Locked, Your Grace? No. Nobody would want to go up there, not in this weather. The wind is something fierce.”
Nobody but Elsbeth.
He thanked Nancy and ascended the steps, wondering if he should go and get his coat first. Hopefully, he could just appear outside and see that Elsbeth was nowhere in sight before leaving.
Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way. He opened the door, peered around the edge and saw her on the far side of the roof, kneeling and examining the platform of a missing statue.
Nancy was right, the wind was something fierce and as cold as a shard of ice to his bones. At least Elsbeth was wearing her cloak.
The only good thing about the roof was that it was flat and he could make his way to her side easily.
Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced in that direction to find a figure in white standing at the end of the roof. The wind made his eyes water. He blinked a few times and it was gone.
“Connor? What are you doing up here without a coat? Don’t you have the sense God gave a gnat, you silly man?”
It had been a long time since he’d been upbraided, but he couldn’t say anything in his defense, especially since he was standing on top of Bealadair’s roof without his coat and hat.
“Did you see that?” he asked, looking back where he’d seen the figure. From what he could tell, the area was the roof over the oldest part of Bealadair.
“See what?” Her gaze followed his.
“Nothing,” he said, his attention back on the pedestal she’d been examining.
“Did you see the White Lady again?”
He debated saying no, then nodded once. “I thought I did.”
She looked as if she wanted to say something, but bit back the words.
The White Lady only came to warn the laird. About what? That he was going to get pneumonia if he didn’t get off the roof?
He didn’t believe in ghosts.
“Can you see any evidence of someone tampering with the statue?” he asked, folding his arms in front of him.
Either Elsbeth could see that he was feeling the cold, or she’d gotten the information she wanted, because she turned and headed for the stairs, leading him to follow her with a deep and profound sense of gratitude.
She stopped midpoint in the dimly lit stairwell and turned to look up at him. The stairwell was too narrow for him to move to her side, but he did stand as close as he was able.
“Someone used a chisel on the pedestal,” she said.
“So it didn’t fall naturally?”
She shook her head.
“Is there another way off the roof?”
She looked surprised, but nodded. “Over the old wing. It was only used by workmen when Gavin made improvements. It was supposed to have been boarded up.”
“If someone used it, he wouldn’t be seen, would he?”
“He?” She frowned at him. “You have someone in mind, don’t you?”
“Felix,” he said.
“Why would he try to harm you? It doesn’t make any sense. He can’t possibly think that if something happens to you everything would return to what it was like when Gavin was alive.”
“Maybe he does. Or maybe he just doesn’t want an American to be the Duke of Lothian.”
