The Lost

“Ross Delaney, Mr. Glin’s solicitor.” He gave her an appraising look. “Your pictures didn’t do you justice.”

“Pictures?”

“As you can imagine, Mr. Glin was more than a little curious to see what you looked like. He won’t be disappointed.” He glanced toward an upper window. “I’m sure by now he’s heard the commotion and will be itching to meet you. Come.” With his hand beneath her elbow, he walked beside her up the stone steps.

Aidan became aware of a tingle of warmth where their bodies co

The double doors were opened by an old woman who wore a spotless apron over a black dress that fell to her ankles. White hair had been pulled back in a severe bun at her nape. Little tendrils had slipped free to curl damply around her plump cheeks. The woman seemed distracted and slightly out of breath, as though she’d just run a marathon, but when she smiled, her entire face sparkled like sunshine.

“Bridget, this is Miss O’Mara, Mr. Glin’s… guest.”

Aidan shot him a glance. Was it her imagination, or had he stumbled over what term he should use to describe her?

There was no time to mull as he continued. “Here at Glin Lodge, Bridget Murphy is the housekeeper and all-around miracle worker. If you need anything, just ask Bridget.”

“Aw, go on with you now.” The old woman was positively glowing at his praise.

And why not? Charm that smooth had probably been learned at his mother’s knee. No doubt he used it on women of all ages.

Aidan offered a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Bridget.”

“As you can imagine, we’ve all been eager to welcome you, too, miss.” The woman took a breath before turning with a brisk nod. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Ross Delaney remained at the door, watching her with more than casual interest.

As Aidan walked away and began to follow Bridget up the stairs, she could feel that cool blue stare following her. It gave her a tingle of awareness. Like the hounds, Meath and Mayo, she felt like wriggling all over with delight and was already scolding herself for such foolishness.

Two

After climbing to the second floor, Bridget opened a set of double doors and stepped aside. “These will be your rooms, Miss O’Mara.”

Aidan caught her breath at the luxurious setting. She was standing in a parlor that was bigger than her parents’ entire house. The floor was an expanse of white- and gold-veined marble, softened by a rug in tones of white and gold and pale green. In one corner was a grand piano. A fire burned on the hearth, with a fireplace surround of the same marble, flanked by two gold chairs and a white sofa. Tossed over two footstools were throws embroidered with a gold crest bearing an eagle and an intertwined monogram with the letters C and M.

She crossed to the bedroom, which was as elegant as the parlor, with a king-sized bed covered in a white comforter bearing the same crest.

A teenaged girl dressed in faded denims and a T-shirt was busy hanging Aidan’s clothes in a closet. She turned as Aidan and Bridget entered.

“Miss O’Mara, if you need anything, just let Charity O’Malley know your pleasure.” The frazzled housekeeper gave the little housemaid a meaningful look. “You’ll not be dawdling, girl. Kathleen needs your help in the kitchen as soon as you’ve finished here.”

“Of course.” Charity seemed completely unfazed by the older woman’s attempt to be stern. With a smile, she picked up yet another piece of clothing from the suitcase and transferred it to the closet.

“There’s tea.” The housekeeper nodded toward the silver tea service on a large tray set on a writing desk across the room. “With the long journey, you’ll be wanting a bit of sleep before di

“Himself?”

“Cullen Glin. Your…” The old woman stopped, then sputtered, “He’s pacing his room like a caged tiger. I told him he’ll just have to wait until you’ve had a nap. He’ll get to meet you by and by. You rest now. I’ll have Charity wake you when it’s time for di

“Thank you, Mrs. Murphy.”

“It’s Bridget, dear. Everyone here calls me Bridget.”

“Thank you, Bridget.” Aidan gave up trying to follow the old woman’s words. They were spoken nonstop, and her head was spi

A glance at the bed had her wondering how she could bear to disturb that perfect picture, with its mounds of pillows and creamy white linens. She looked toward the cushioned window seat beneath the tall leaded windows, thinking she might curl up there for a quick nap.

When the housekeeper left, Aidan poured a cup of tea and nibbled one of the biscuits nestled beneath a linen napkin. The flaky pastry melted in her mouth.

“Do you live here, Charity?”

The girl barely paused in her work as she continued hanging each item with meticulous care. “Oh no, miss. I live in Glinkilly, just down the road.”

“Sean pointed out your town when we passed through. It’s lovely.”

“It is, yes. We’re all very proud of Glinkilly. Sean and I are old school chums.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“This is my second year. I’m hoping to save enough to attend university in two years.”

“What do you hope to study?”

“Medicine. My two older sisters, Faith and Hope, are both studying to be doctors.”

Faith, Hope and Charity. Aidan couldn’t help gri

“He’s a farmer. He said he’s weary of dancing to the whims of nature, and wants better for his children.”

That had Aidan laughing aloud. “A wise man. I see you’ve heeded his advice.”

“So far. Of course, he wants us all to marry wealthy men, too, but as our mum says, money can’t buy love.”

Aidan sipped her tea in silence. There was a time when she would have agreed with Charity’s mother. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe, if a person were desperate enough, she would even trade love for the chance to escape the burden of debt.

“Not that I wouldn’t be tempted, if the rich man happened to look like Ross Delaney.”

At Charity’s words, Aidan snapped to attention.

The housemaid touched a hand to her heart. “Now, there’s a man who can make a girl’s heart race with just a look or a smile.”

“I’m sure,” Aidan remarked dryly, “he knows just how to use that kind of charm.”

“Then I wish he’d use some of it on me.” Charity covered her hand with her mouth to stifle the laughter that bubbled. “My older sisters told me they did everything but dance naked in front of him when they worked here, and he never once noticed them.” She wrinkled her nose. “The woman hasn’t been born to suit Ross Delaney. ’Tis said he’ll never marry. All he thinks about is pleasing the old man. I think if Cullen Glin asked him to lie down in front of a moving train, he’d do it.”

“Such loyalty. He must be paid very well for his services.”

“I don’t think he does it for the money. Those who know him, and they’re few indeed, say he genuinely loves the old man. But who really knows? Ross Delaney is a bit of a mystery.” Charity lowered her voice. “Something happened between him and the old man years ago. Though there are a dozen variations of the story, nobody knows for sure. Whatever it was, the old man treats him more like his son than his barrister.”

“Speaking of sons, does Cullen Glin have any children?”

Charity closed the suitcase and stowed it in the closet. “He never married. He lives all alone in this mansion, which my father calls a mausoleum. Of course, if I had his money, and could live in such digs, I’m sure I could survive a little loneliness. Or buy whatever company I craved.”