marquis wrote as if the two were truly fond of each other.
And perhaps they were. For as far as she knew, Dundaire was not a kind land, its rumors of the weird and unusual off-putting to most men. But for Charles Ogilvy, Dundaire and its eccentricities, including its marquis, were more than a welcomed gift. Her father wrote of his work in the Highlands with such passion, even she could not blame him for abandoning her and Nevan.
If only she could have seen the man one more time.
A draft kissed her ankles.
Bending forward to adjust the hem of her gown, Sarina eyed the letter now clutched in her right hand.
The left edge of the paper fluttered. It was just a small movement, but an unnatural one just the same.
Straightening, she glanced at the floor-to-ceiling double windows on the far wall. Both panes remained latched, yet the red velvet panels draping their sides, billowed.
She gasped.
Nevan turned her way.
A burst of cold air cut a swift path across the rug, its brutal force kicking up dust and fragments of ages-old scents, everything from cheroot to port.
Teeth flew from the table.
Nevan reached out, though it did little good, the wind far too fast for his thin arms.
The drawing room’s door slammed.
Sarina jumped, brought her hand to her chest.
Calm descended.
The windows, as they were seconds ago, remained closed.
She swallowed, fear rising in her soul.
Nevan fell to his knees to gather the now scattered teeth. “Probably just Mother,” he said, crawling over the claw feet of the mahogany table legs. “As usual.”
Usual her arse. “Really, Nevan, must you always look at the darker side of nature with such…such acceptance?”
Her brother merely shrugged as he stood, his hands balled protectively over his once again collected teeth. “It’s what I know.”
Unfortunately, that was the truth. Normal had never been a part of their life. But Nevan’s strange fixation with morbidity was growing steadily and she needed to stop it. Though she did sympathize with him. Had they not lived the life their father had hoisted upon them, she herself might not feel so at home among the unexplainable. A woman of sound mind would have run from the drawing room when that cold burst of air blew in from shut windows. She didn’t move, save for that little jump when the door slammed. Even now she remained calmer than she should be.
With a deep breath, Sarina sat back against the sofa. She hadn’t a clue what she and Nevan were about to discover once they arrived in Dundaire, a decision she still hadn’t yet shared with her brother.
“What do you think of another trip?” She held her breath.
Nevan returned to his chair, emptied his hands of the teeth, and then tugged at his cravat. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“The cost.”
“You are a boy of twelve. The cost of a trip should not concern you as that is all on me.”
“Agreed. But I know for fact you sold Father’s watch, along with some of his other belongings, before we sailed for Scotland. What do you have left to sell now?”
She picked at a thread from the green embroidery on her gown’s skirt. “We do not have to sell anything. Father provided for the trip before he died. Now, are you keen on going or not?”
“I suppose.” He didn’t look the least bit enthused to be leaving Edinburgh.
Not that she blamed her brother. It was bad enough he’d been forced to uproot from the only home he’d known by leaving New York. But Scotland was their only hope. New York had become too expensive for them now that their father had died. Dundaire offered her work.
“Then it is settled,” she said. “We shall leave for Dundaire as soon as the arrangements are made.”
“Dundaire?” Nevan’s eyes went wide, though his gaze remained on the blasted teeth. “Is that not where Father carried out his research?”
“It is.”
“Did he not have a cottage there?”
“He did, but only because the use of it was granted to him by Lord Lycansay for the duration of his research. I shall ask for the same allowance when I write my response to today’s letter.”
Nevan tapped his boot toe against the carpet. “Then I suppose if the New York house is gone, and Father’s cottage was his only by loan, we are officially homeless now. Is that not correct, Sister?” Nevan looked up, but only for a fleeting second as those damn teeth wouldn’t allow him more.
“It is,” she answered, though not without reservation. “But you mustn’t worry as