She leaned forward, her red, silken hair already falling from its pins, one thick strand curled over her shoulder. “Did you see the inscription on the bottom of the box that holds the vases?”

Even saying something businesslike, she sounded seductive. He forced himself to turn his gaze on the ivory box and its contents. “I don’t see an inscription—ah. Wait.” He moved to one side so that the light caught the faint lines. “I thought this might be Roman, but I can see now that it’s Greek.” He peered at it through his monocle, then finally turned to her. “It’s an unusual—”

The room was empty.

“Damnation!” He raced to the door and almost ran into Mr. Bancroft, who was just entering.

“Ah, Mr. Hurst!” The man’s gaze flickered to the table behind Robert. “I see Mrs. MacJames showed you the box and vases. Astonishing, aren’t th—”

“Where is she?”

Mr. Bancroft blinked and then peered past Robert. “She isn’t here? But I thought—”

“She left. Did you see her?”

“No. I just came in from the terrace, and the hall was quite empty.”

Robert cursed. He whirled back to the room, his gaze sweeping over the long windows. Could she have gone through them? No, he would have heard them open. Where the hell is she? She can’t disappear in a puff of smoke. She had to—His gaze locked onto a faint line in the patterned wallpaper. In a trice he was at the hidden door, searching for the latch. “How do you open this?”

Bancroft had followed him across the room and now shook his head. “I don’t know. I’d never noticed that doorway, and—”

Click. Robert had found the hidden latch and the door swung open, a hidden entrance for servants who might need quicker access in order to efficiently meet their master’s and mistress’s needs.

Robert ducked his head and raced into the small hallway, which quickly grew dark. The passage was narrow, the flagstone floor worn smooth with use, and the faint scent of freshly baked bread let him know where the final door would open. He had to duck his head so as not to hit the wide timbers that occasionally appeared as he made his way. He rushed along and turned a corner, the light disappearing completely. But Robert maintained his speed by the simple expediency of trailing his hands along each side.

Urgency pressed him forward. He couldn’t let her escape.

“Mr. Hurst!” Bancroft called after him. “When you see Mrs. MacJames, please remind her that the items must be ready soon and . . .” The voice faded as Robert ran down the twisting hallway.

The fool. Moira MacAllister was gone and would never reappear. She had to know something about the onyx box; he’d seen a flicker in her gaze.

Robert cursed as he stumbled down a step, twice bumping his head painfully when an especially low beam crossed the ceiling. The hallway ended at a small door that swung open to reveal the kitchens.