A thought suddenly occurred to Margot. She didn’t need to find proof that he was involved in treason. She had to find proof that he was not.

And how did one do that?

The same way, she supposed, one found proof of treason.

When Margot returned to Balhaire, she was more confused than ever. She was so lost in her own thoughts that when she handed the reins of the horse to a stable boy and walked into the castle, she cared not a whit who saw her or whether they looked at her or not. She felt quite at a loss for what to do now. She hurried upstairs to the rooms next to Arran’s bedchamber and threw open the door—and very nearly startled Nell to death.

“There you are, milady!” Nell said. “I thought you’d never return. What a day I’ve had! That man has come round again, and he says I’m not to enter the laird’s rooms without invitation. I says, ‘My lady is sharing those rooms, and I guess I’ll enter when she says!’ And he says—”

“Nell,” Margot said, holding up her hand. “I would like to lie down a bit before supper.”

“Pardon, milady. Are you unwell?” Nell asked.

“A bit of a headache. It’s been rather a long day.”

“Shall I fetch—”

“No, nothing. I’ll ring for you when I need you.” She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed, and retreated to the master bedchamber. She closed the door carefully behind her, then stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips.

She meant to have a lie down, but her gaze moved to the large chest of drawers. If a man had secrets to keep, he would keep them close. Margot moved hesitantly to the chest of drawers and, with finger and thumb, lifted the drawer pull and pulled it open. The drawer contained shirts. She grimaced as she put her hand beneath them, groping about, hoping to find something. And indeed, her fingers closed around a metal piece; she quickly withdrew it from beneath the shirts and held it up.

It was a signet ring.

Margot put it back and shut the drawer.

She opened the next drawer and found more articles of clothing. A third drawer contained two hunting knives and a pocket watch. She closed that one and then came down to her knees to open a pair of doors at the bottom of the chest. She pulled on one door—it didn’t open. Thinking it was stuck, she gave it a stronger tug. The door came open, and inside, she found nothing but more clothing.

She stood up and looked toward his dressing room. His study. Of course! She’d forgotten that small circular room on the other side of his dressing room.