So, Ivan was worried about me bolting again. Understandable, I guess, but not something he needed to be concerned about on my part. I was fully committed to the job now. “That’s no problem. I’ll be happy to stay inside and get familiar with my new rooms, which are simply lovely. I’m curious though, did Lord Rothvale leave Donadea?” I wasn’t sure what Mr. Finnegan knew about our sexcapades in Ivan’s study, but it was clear we both were aware of the security breach by the drone. I reasoned if Ivan had left the estate and I was here on my own, it was no different than how it could be later on down the road—I might be working at Donadea someday when Ivan was required to be in London because the PM needed him for government business. Still, I wanted to know the status of my host.

“Yes, he had to go into Belfast to attend to an urgent matter with the police. Lord Rothvale sends his apologies for having to rush away so unexpectedly. He also wanted you to be aware of our security officer, Mr. Sharpe, who is stationed here at the estate, should you meet him at some point today. He may come ’round to check-in and introduce himself later so don’t be alarmed by the giant Irishman when you first set eyes on him.” Mr. Finnegan raised his hand up to mark how tall Mr. Sharpe must be to tower over his own height, which wasn’t slight by any means.

I laughed. “Got it. Giant Irishman is security officer Mr. Sharpe. I’ve had a bit of experience recognizing the type over the years, Mr. Finnegan. My father is MetPol, so I’ve known a few cops in my life,” I teased.

“That explains a lot, Miss Hargreave, indeed. Just another reason why you’re so well-suited for h—”—he stopped and cleared his throat—“why you’re so well suited for taking on the project here at Donadea.” He gave me another of his signature head bows, snapped his fingers while gesturing at the dogs to exit, and bid me farewell. He then shut the door on his way out and retreated down the hall on nearly silent steps, the clicks of doggy feet making far more sound than his own. Talk about stealth-walking. Mr. Finnegan was a Hogwarts professional.

He also thought I was well-suited for taking on “Lord Rothvale” as he referred to him. I wondered why Ivan was now “Lord Rothvale” when he’d been “Mr. Everley” before. Mr. Finnegan seemed to be playing matchmaker. I’d caught the “you’re so well-suited for him” he’d tried to cover up by clearing his throat. It made me feel good that Mr. Finnegan approved of me, even though I could sense the lovely old man was up to something behind the scenes.

Very good indeed.

Chapter 9

GABRIELLE

I’m looking at another Mallerton right now. It’s just been hanging on the wall in this lovely sitting room fit for a queen, looking magnificent for the last century or so. Nobody knows it’s here, and it’s not part of his official body of work. There is no record of its existence, nor is there a date of creation that I’ve ever seen. This gorgeous portrait of a young woman in a blue riding habit, leading a pale chestnut horse with a newborn lamb in her arms is an unknown. Yet another unattributed painting of Tristan Mallerton waiting patiently for me to find it in this house.