enough to suffer any ill effects.
He dropped the heart into the tobacco pouch, pulled the bag shut, and wound the cord around it. He then knotted it pendant style around his neck. It hung level with his heart, its warmth seeping through the fabric of the bag. Cross placed his hand on top of it. He could feel it beat. More importantly, he could not feel the persistent ache in his gut that had troubled him since his arrival at Connaught. The heart had a rejuvenating effect, even through the leather pouch. He let his hand rest on his chest. It would not be noticeable, not beneath his jacket.
Cross’s lip curled. He felt more like himself than he had in decades—more than a match for a banshee, real or otherwise.
14
Cross slept deeply, not troubled for once by aches or pains. He woke refreshed, with only a lingering feeling of unease. Not even the bright sunshine and crisp country air could fully dissipate the sighting of the night before. His thoughts reverted time and time again to the banshee’s expression as she stared at them through the window, eyes fixed on his, imploring him mutely to—what?
Thomas shook his head. If anything, the disconcerting impression created by the banshee was testament to the ingenuity of the O’Flaherty women. Mother, daughter or both were behind the appearance they had witnessed. They must be. But what was their purpose?
He’d missed breakfast, and the household pursued their various occupations. Deciding that Pip was unlikely to get into too much trouble in the library, he looked for Julian. His search took him outside. The day was bright, the air sweet with the mingled smell of dry grass and the perfume from the roses. Cross took a deep breath, enjoying it in his lungs. He had not felt this much zest for simply existing in quite some time…
He scanned the garden. No sign of Julian, but the gardener, Liam Malone, was hard at work, heaping compost on the base of the roses. That was as good a place as any to begin his search. Cross set off down a path that seemed to lead in the gardener’s direction.
A short distance from the roses, a marble bench was placed in a corner, affording one a view of the roses—and the gardener. Julian perched on the edge of it, hands clamped on the marble slab, gaze fixed on Liam with an intensity that would not have been amiss on a hunting dog tracking a bird.
Cross plopped himself down on the seat next to Julian. “I thought you were guarding your father?”
Julian shrugged. “He complained that he was starting to feel like a hunted fox and told me he didn’t want to see me again before dinner.” His nostrils flared. His gaze flicked over Cross and a puzzled frown crossed his face.
Thomas cut in first. “And the danger to him?”
“Miss O’Flaherty is running some errands in the village. She left in the carriage an hour ago. Mrs O’Flaherty is supervising laundry day.”
“That doesn’t mean that your father is necessarily safe. We cannot be complacent, Julian. We are here for one reason only: to solve the mystery involved with this banshee so that your father can depart Connaught with a clear conscience.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” Julian asked. “You smell of copper.”
“A small paper cut. I’m astonished your nose picked it up.”
“I am quite astonishing,” Julian said complacently. “I’m surprised more people don’t realise that.”
It was not worth the bother. “Can you tear yourself away from admiring the roses long enough to find where Miss O’Flaherty stashed her banshee costume?”
“I can certainly try. And you?”
“I’d like to take a look at the roof. I want to see if I can find any traces of how she managed to appear outside my window.”
“I had a look already.” Julian stood, stretching. “Father and I inspected the roof this morning. Nothing doing.”
Cross frowned. “What do you mean, ‘nothing doing?’”
“No sign of any sort of pulley system, nor any marks to show that one might have been employed. Moreover, no traces of her or anyone else on the roof recently.”
“The rooms above my room. Did you check—“
“We did. With the same result. Miss O’Flaherty did not dangle herself down from above, and neither did she raise herself from below.” Julian gestured to the untouched flower beds behind them. “No trace of her scent—or anyone else’s.”
Cross looked up, surprised to see his bedroom window above them. “I beg your pardon. I did not realise how active you