The grass about the castle was a riotous mass of wildflowers. Red, yellow, purple, and blue flowers bobbed in the breeze, dancing as if under some sort of spell, while the clouds swirled above.

“I wish Rowena could see this,” Moira said, breathless.

Robert shot her a sharp look. For a moment, he wished he could show her Hurst House. Then he set his jaw and turned away. Hurst House was his secret and no one else’s.

He’d purchased it four years ago on a whim. He’d been traveling between Edinburgh and London when a chance wrong turn had brought him to a beautiful old house, built in the late sixteenth century, of white stone with narrow windows. He’d purchased it immediately and then modernized it, adding water closets, running water, a roof cistern, and a kitchen that would make the most demanding chef quiver with pleasure.

He wasn’t certain why he’d bought it, for it was fit to establish a dynasty. Yet he’d been intrigued, and continued to be so, working whenever he could with his man of business on the improvements. He hadn’t even told his family about it, knowing they’d tease him mercilessly for such folly. He didn’t blame them; had any of them purchased such a grand house, he’d have done the same.

He glanced at Moira again, wondering if she would like Hurst House’s bucolic setting as much as Balnagown’s. Hurst House was perched upon a low hill, majestic and gleaming, the white stone trimmed with thick green ivy, reflected in the series of glassy ponds that stretched before it, along with thick copses of trees.

He looked again at the gorgeous castle that towered above them, and an unusual sinking feeling gripped him. No one could compare Balnagown’s splendor to the quiet majesty of Hurst House.

Not that it matters, he told himself sharply. Moira will never see Hurst House—and why should she?

“Oh, Robert, look!” Moira pointed up. “The stained glass in the top windows is breathtaking.”

Indeed, the late afternoon sun caught the colored panes, which glittered as if magic. Robert silently damned every window of Ross’s castle to Hades, at the same time deciding that Hurst House could use some fine stained glass, as well. He’d set his man of business on it as soon as possible.

The coach rumbled through a wide gate and into the cobbled drive. The shadow of the great building made Moira withdraw into the coach. “This says a lot about Ross that we didn’t know,” she said, her expression thoughtful.

The castle appeared to be in excellent repair, and a very large number of well-dressed servants scurried around in anticipation of their arrival. “Ross is extraordinarily wealthy.”

She nodded. “Which explains why Aniston didn’t try to simply purchase the artifact. Ross has no need of money.”

“Which means that it would be impossible to purchase the real artifact—only a fake.”

“Which he sells merely to prove that he can best his fellow man.”

“That explains a lot. Since Aniston couldn’t buy the original box outright, he sent you to fetch it for him.” Robert had no illusions just how far Aniston expected Moira to go in her dealings with Ross. Robert clutched the handle of his cane tightly. He and I will have a reckoning soon.