Free Trondelaine Castle by April Lynn Kihlstrom Page A

bored, but handsome for all that, and
impatient. The guide, accustomed to this sort of thing,
would soon be herding his group through the rooms,
anxious not to miss dinner at the inn later. Was it only a
week ago that she, too, had been trouping through the
castle for the first time? Was the guide still angry at her?
Had Kevin actually sent the suitcase?
    She waited, listening for the sound of footsteps,
unable to read. After a time, she heard a babble of
voices that heralded the tourists’ presence at the stairs
near the library. Then there was the sound of many
pairs of feet ascending stairs. A few moments later,
there was a knock at her door. The door opened and a
young male servant Wendy had not seen before
entered. “Your valise, Miss,” he said.
    “Please set it there,” she said, pointing to a spot near
the wardrobe. “And thank you.”
    “Yes, Miss.” He grinned, then disappeared.
    Mentally, Wendy followed the progress of the
group. Now they must be seeing the tapestry or
weaving room. She hobbled over to the suitcase and
opened it. Thank heavens she was not in the habit of
locking it when it stood empty at home! As per
instructions, Kevin had enclosed the usual necessities
as well as a better pair of shoes, a few separates, two
dresses, and a well-tailored pants suit.
    Her dictionaries were there with the needlepoint and
some costume jewelry which Wendy instinctively knew
she would not wear at Trondelaine. Wendy wondered
why Kevin had included it and decided he was trying to
be helpful. There was little else in the suitcase, and
definitely no letters. She tried not to feel disappointed. Not very much, was there? And yet it was a larger valise
than most that would be carried on the tour.

    She smiled as she thought of the guide’s probable
reaction when he first saw it. Poor man. He must really
dislike her by now!
    Gwen, ever the efficient servant, interrupted her
thoughts. “I’ve come to unpack for you,” she began,
then halted as she saw the empty valise. “Oh! I’d have
done it for you, Miss Pratt.”
    Wendy grinned. “I know. But I thought you
probably would be tired after today. Besides,” she
added mischievously, imitating Lord Richard’s voice,
“I am not to annoy the servants with special requests!”
    Gwen giggled, then nodded. “Oh, he’s in a rare mood
today. But don’t mind that, Miss. He’ll be himself again
tomorrow.”
    And is that any better? Wendy wondered silently.
But she only smiled and said, “I hope so.”
    “He will. Do you need anything else, Miss? If not, I’ll
bid you good night.”
    “Good night, Gwen.”
    Meanwhile, the nineteenth Earl of Loftsbury was
enjoying a snifter of brandy in the James Room and
trying to puzzle out the enigma of his guest. He was
also wondering what he ought to do about Lady Sylvia.
    Saturday morning, the Earl received a report that
did nothing to ease his irritation. The report concerned
Wendy and seemed to confirm the answers she had
given about her background. Except, that is, on the
matter of Kevin Lisle. The investigator was quite
certain no engagement existed, although Miss Pratt
was often seen in the young man’s company. Well, that
came as no surprise. It was the one subject on which Miss Pratt lied poorly, and might have been a
last-minute improvisation. Naturally, the investigation
would continue, as per instructions.

    Lord Richard set down the report with the feeling he
was dealing with a very clever young woman. He
turned and studied her as she sat at her desk, working.
In spite of his reasonably broad experience with
women, he sometimes found himself at a loss with
Wendy. All too often, she responded in a totally
unexpected manner or, worse, seemed to take no notice
of him at all. And that was not natural. With a
determined effort, he shook off the matter for the
moment and turned back to more important concerns.
There was a report he had promised to finish by