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I'd notified of his demise, my lord."
    Knight settled back in his chair. "Not even on the Scottish side of the family?"
    "What Scottish—" The man put on his spectacles. "Oh, yes. I do believe he had relatives in the Border district. I do not recall whether we attempted to notify them."
    "That isn't what I care about," Knight said slowly. "I want to know if this woman is a genuine relation or an imposter. She claims to be the Earl of Roxshire's daughter, but she was raised by some old uncle upon her parents' deaths. Her name is Catriona Grant, and she has apparently been living in the castle of the current earl."
    "And you would like me to investigate her claims, my lord? Shall I begin by contacting the earl?"
    "Yes, but I do not wish my sister to hear a word of this, and you might need help. Contact Daniel Truesdell at the Red Dragon to see if he would like a job. I understand he's offered his services to the Bow Street Runners more than once. On second thought, wait a while before contacting the earl, Simmons." Knight couldn't say what instinct had prompted him to add this amendment.
    "I shall begin the investigation in the morning." Simmons leaned forward to rise, his voice hushed. "Do you think she poses a danger to the house, my lord?"
    Knight paused. Aside from shooting into the air and dropping a bag of stones on the stairs, he could not in all honesty say that Catriona appeared to be a menace to his household. "Not in the usual sense, but I do believe she might be a threat to my sister's emotional stability."
    "A fortune hunter, perhaps?"
    "And a fortune teller," Knight said dryly.
* * *
    The door opened several minutes after Simmons had left. Howard, the young footman, bustled in with an air of intrigue. "It was as you feared, my lord. The old man and the dog have vanished into the vapors. Disappeared, flown the coop, evacuated, departed, es—"
    "I understand, Howard," Knight said. "The man has gone." He heaved a deep sigh. "And left Catriona Grant in my care."
* * *
    At three o'clock that same morning, a horned owl appeared on the oak tree that overlooked Cat's bedroom window. An owl in the park, being a nocturnal hunter, was not an unusual occurrence. But this was the largest one anyone who lived on the estate had ever seen, and the noisiest by far.
    The bird set up a loud, mournful hooting that penetrated the deepest dreams. Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper, sat up in bed even before the owl began to hoot. She heard it scratching in the tree and thought the new parlor maid was eloping with that idiot footman Howard, which might not be a bad thing unless it reflected poorly on Mrs. Evans's management of domestic matters.
    Olivia heard the hooting and wondered immediately whether owls could communicate with the departed. Wendell heard it and pulled a pillow over his head. Knight, who had just gotten to sleep, swore and asked himself what else to expect that night.
    Catriona was the last person in the house to awaken. But then, she was accustomed to sleeping with nature's symphony in the background, storms over the mountains, a merlin crying from the moor, rain battering the stones of the old cottage.
    Then someone from the depths of the house shouted, "Shoot the damn thing so we can get back to sleep!"
    Cruelty to a helpless creature was more than Catriona could tolerate. She got up and fumbled her way around the unfamiliar furniture, walking twice into the wardrobe before she managed to open the window.
    "What do you want, then?" she whispered to the frowning bird that seemed to stare directly into her room. "Are you trying to impart a message from the otherworld?"
    She stared past the sleeping park to the edge of the snarled woods, where gray moths pollinated the evening primroses and night animals stirred, prey and predator. Beyond lay the moor with its high tors towering in the mist. Was someone waiting for her out there? Was it her brother, or the old lecher he insisted she would marry? Was the owl warning her that