He heard voices inside and a moment later the door was cracked open a few inches by a young serving girl. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” Alex said. “But there is something I must speak with Lady Joan about.”

She looked worried. “She’s not here, my lord.”

“Who is it?” he heard Lady Alice demand from inside the room.

The girl looked to him.

“Sir Alexander Seton,” he replied to the silent question.

The girl relayed his name to Alice, and then added, “He’s looking for Lady Joan, my lady.”

“Tell him she’s not here. She’s gone off somewhere again. She always disappears at the most inconvenient time.”

The young serving girl’s look of worry and anxiousness increased. “I’d best get back, my lord. I’m curling her hair with hot tongs, and I’m afraid I’m not nearly as good as Lady Joan.”

Inconvenient indeed, Alex thought. He was glad Joan was nothing like her cousin, but he understood the barely opened door.

“I’m sorry to have disturbed you,” he said again, and left.

He should have gone to Pembroke’s at that point. But he didn’t. He waited and waited at the bottom of the tower until the pitying looks from the guard on watch outside the door proved too much.

To hell with this. It had been a long time since he’d put his Highland Guard skills to use, but he still remembered what to do.

Joan paused outside the door to Alice’s chamber and turned to her cousin. “Thank you for insisting on accompanying me tonight.”

Margaret grinned. “It was my pleasure. I’m not normally so pushy, but after what happened earlier, I did not want you to have to face that horrible man again—at least not alone. I’m just glad he was smart enough not to show his face; I don’t think I would have been able to feign politeness.”

Joan was glad Sir Phillip had stayed away as well. More than glad. Her cousin wouldn’t have been the only one to find it difficult to feign politeness, and Joan didn’t think her former guardian would have been as satisfied by the explanation as Margaret had been.

Joan had told her the truth—that she’d thought herself in love with him and he’d betrayed her—but omitted the specifics of that betrayal. Margaret had been content with the explanation that he’d lost interest when Joan had been disinherited.

“You, not pushy? Since when?” Joan laughed. “But seriously, I am thankful for the company. It was a delightful night.”

“It was,” Margaret agreed. “And fruitful.”