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move up and down staircases of varying lengths to traverse the house. Many of the stone stairs bore the imprint of centuries of footsteps. Though it gave them a well-worn appearance, and was one of the reasons Nick had purchased the estate, it made them uneven and potentially hazardous. Though Miss Malboeuf was young and had certainly demonstrated her agility, he led her carefully through the maze of stairs and corridors until they reached the banqueting hall.
    Miss Malboeuf slid her hand along one of the long tables that ran the length of each side of the hall. After walking to the center of the room, she spun around like a child enjoying a warm, sunny day outside.
    A rare, protective urge overcame him for this enigma of a girl. He brushed it aside. “This table is the original. We had to do much work to restore it.” He waved his hand toward the other long wall. “That table was constructed to the exact specifications of the two original tables. This side of the room sustained the most damage and we were unable to save the surface of the table, though we did manage to salvage several of the legs.”
    She walked over to the new table and touched the surface. “It’s a remarkable copy. I never would have guessed that the two were of different origin.”
    He pointed to the vaulted ceiling. “We also had to replace much of the plasterwork and two of the ceiling beams. It’s best not to take any chances with structural elements.”
    “No, of course not.” She glanced at the rafters and her gaze strayed to the balcony at the end of the chamber.
    “What is that?” she asked, pointing. “Surely you don’t think so much of yourself that you must sit above your guests.”
    She had issued a grave insult of the sort that would normally cause him to take offense, but it was uttered with such a lack of artifice that he found himself stifling his laughter instead of issuing a set down. “Why yes, Miss Malboeuf. I so dislike mingling with my guests that I had a balcony constructed for my personal use so I could lord over everyone in a manner befitting my superior station.”
    She tilted her head to the side and regarded him, her eyes wide.
    He crossed his arms and waited for her to speak. Surely she was about to issue a dressing down of her own. After a full minute passed, he began to wonder if she would ever speak again. He would have paid a small fortune to be privy to the thoughts inside her head.
    “Whatever is the matter, Miss Malboeuf? Cat got your tongue?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Is that really the purpose of the balcony?”
    He laughed. “Of course not. It is a minstrel’s gallery.”
    She put her hands on her hips. “You wretched man. How could you lead me on in such a way?”
    “No, no. You deserved it.” He placed his hand over his heart. “You wounded me to the core with your unkind words.”
    “Nonsense. I expect that even if every person in England were to give you a dressing down it would have no effect on your ego whatsoever.”
    She really was overstepping, but he couldn’t bring himself to set her to rights. He hadn’t been this entertained in a long time.
    After a brief pause while she studied the balcony, she said, “So actors perform on the balcony to entertain the guests?”
    He nodded. “I held a reception for the neighbors a few years ago and we had musicians in the gallery. I imagine if a family with children lived here they would conduct plays or charades as well.”
    She studied him in that disconcerting way that made him feel as if she could tell what he was thinking. Though she was likely the most naive person he had ever met, she was very perceptive and almost completely without guile.
    He turned away from her scrutiny and glanced out the window at the lower court. The clouds had cleared and the sun shone brightly. The gardens weren’t at their best this time of year, but the promise of spring was in the air.
    A whiff of roses assailed his senses as Miss Malboeuf drew to a halt