“A day or so now. I told Lady Strathmore about it, and she said she’d ask the servants. Do you think she has?”

“I don’t know, though she’s said nothing to me. I’ll ask about and see what I can discover.” Malcolm’s frown deepened. “Devon, what if someone finds it?”

“I hope they will return it to me. Though I don’t want to be burdened with it, it did belong to my mother, and it is rather precious because of that.”

“No, no. I mean…if the ring is in someone else’s possession, would they end up married?”

Now there was a thought. Devon considered it. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, it is called the St. John talisman ring.”

Malcolm didn’t appear convinced. “I hope you are right. I also hope that neither Fiona nor Murien have found the thing.”

“What would they do with it?”

Malcolm frowned. “I don’t know, but the way they’re scheming, ’tis a possibility one or the both o’ them had their hands on it.”

“You’re being a bit hasty.”

Malcolm sighed, his shoulders slumping. An apologetic smile flickered over his face. “Perhaps ’tis just mislaid, as you said. I’ll go and see if I can’t find that lazy butler. Perhaps Davies has some knowledge of your ring.”

Devon didn’t think he’d ever actually seen the butler at Kilkairn. “I hope Davies knows where the ring is. I must find it before I leave.”

Malcolm nodded. “We shall. Never fear. It is too dangerous to leave lying around. Meanwhile, you had best dress for dinner. You look a bit wet.”

Devon nodded. “I shall. Thank you for your assistance, Malcolm. I appreciate it.”

“I’m looking for that dismal artifact more for my own good than yours. ’Tis the last thing I want lying about where an innocent male might chance upon it.” With that, Malcolm headed downstairs, yelling for Davies as he went.

Devon watched him go. Why couldn’t his mother have had a ring that caused increased health or stamina? Anything other than an illness that might lead to marriage. It really wasn’t fair.

Sighing, he turned and made his way to his own room, wishing he didn’t have to attend dinner that evening.

Dinner was every bit as horrid as Devon feared. Fiona was flushed and talkative, a desperate sparkle in her eyes. Once or twice Devon caught her staring at Malcolm with such a look of longing that it startled him.

Malcolm, for his part, spent most of the meal prying for hidden meanings behind his wife’s every statement, while Murien did her best to play the part of The Perfect Companion.