Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) by Marie Higgins Page A

again, but it wasn’t there. Irritated, she slumped in Ian’s chair and exhaled deeply. She moved her gaze around the room and noticed a small filing drawer she hadn’t seen yesterday. Her hopes lifted as she crouched and pulled out the drawers. There were files with some of Ian’s clients, so she scanned through the names in hopes of finding something about the castle. Luck was on her side again, and the file was named plain and simple—Castle. She opened the file and found another paper. It was dated today.
     
    I’ve found fault with Lord Thatcher. It’s rather comical, yet I shouldn’t be the one to point out the bad in people. But the man knows something that’s vital to this mystery, yet he won’t relent. He knows of my interest, but he says nothing. He’s like a dark closet with many ghosts.
     
    A smile touched her lips as refreshing energy soared through her body, and the mystery was more than she could stand. So many questions ran rapid through her mind. What kind of ghosts did this man have in his closet? Is that what her husband was searching for? And why would Ian want to know? More importantly, what was the connection between Ian Fielding and Lord Thatcher?
    She put away the file and left the office before the secretary came back. She decided to go to the castle and do a little snooping. It was time she met the mystery man as Ian’s wife. Ian gave the impression he knew this man well, so the deformed lord would indeed accept her into his house, she just knew it.

Chapter Seven
     
    Lord Thatcher shielded his eyes with his hand as he glanced up at the sun, calculating the time. He hadn’t even been outside for two hours and already he was eager to return indoors. Today’s heat practically seared his clothes to his body.
    Looking upon the acres of unkempt land, he sighed and swiped his fingers through his hair. What was he going to do about this hellhole? How was he going to keep it up? Servants were definitely necessary, but right now, he didn’t know if he had the funds to provide for them. It was bad enough he’d been slaving away for months already trying to make the rooms halfway livable.
    He kicked his boot in the dirt. He definitely needed to hire grounds men, but his primary concern was to purchase some tall iron gates to keep out all of the curious onlookers who came to peek at the castle and its new lord. Rumors had been circling the city about a new lord occupying Bath’s haunted house, and although he wanted to put a stop to it, he didn’t think going into town would do it.
    For fifty years, he’d been the only person sane enough to live in this castle. That was too long to go without servants, no matter how ridiculous the notion of ghosts. In fact, the only good thing about this castle was the inspiration the atmosphere gave him to write a mystery novel. Ghosts and old castles ignited his creative mind. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but if his investments paid off, he’d be one of the richest men in Bath in a couple of months. If not...well, he didn’t want to think about it.
    He picked out a few yard tools from the utility shed needed to get the front yard in order. There were other things to be done also, but at least this would get him started on making his home presentable.
    After about an hour, the hot sun nearly baked his clothes on his body and suffocated him. He put aside the hoe, yanked off his shirt and set it aside. He surveyed the premises for inquisitive peepers, but thankfully, nobody was about. With a chuckle, he thought about the ghosts that kept most people away. He could probably work out here in nothing but the skin God gave him and still not be noticed.
    He grasped the hoe in his gloved hands and pounded it into the dry earth, preparing the ground for seed. Time seemed to pass remarkably fast as his labored breathing and birds in the trees kept him company. Then another sound pulled his attention away from the