Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord by Sarah MacLean Page A

repairing the roof? ”
    She was ahead of him, and her head turned slightly as she registered the question. After a long pause, she said, “It leaks.”
    The woman would try the patience of a saint. Truly.
    He waited for her to elaborate. When she did not, he said, “I imagine that is the most likely reason for a roof to be in need of repair.”
    He ignored the sound that came from Rock, a cross between laughter and strangulation.
    As they reached a far corner of the house, Nick registered a familiar, not-unpleasant odor—a musty smell that he had long associated with the very best of discoveries. When she opened a door near the end of the hallway and indicated that they should enter, the wash of golden sunlight that spilled through the doorway surprised him.
    Isabel stepped back, allowing him access to the large room, a perfectly symmetrical space, with tall ceilings and a wall of high windows that looked out onto the vast manor lands. The windows did nothing to hide the late afternoon sun that shone directly into the large, open space filled with dozens of statues, each a different size and shape, covered in dusty muslin sheets.
    Excitement coursed through Nick as he took in the contents of the room, his hands itching to remove the shrouds—to view the treasures they hid. He stopped several feet inside, turning back to Isabel. “You were not exaggerating.”
    A small smile played at her lips, and, when she spoke, he could hear the pride in her voice. “There is another room, identical to this one, across the hall. You will no doubt wish to see that, as well.”
    Nick’s surprise was clear. “Perhaps Miss Caldwell could open that room for Rock while you tell me more about the statues? ”
    After a moment’s hesitation, Isabel nodded her assent to her cousin, and the two exited the room, leaving the door wide. She uncovered a nearby statue, and Nick watched, tracking her movements as she pulled the fabric aside, revealing a tall marble nude.
    He approached the piece, considering it for a long moment before running one hand down the curve of the statue’s arm. When he spoke, there was reverence in his voice. “She is stunning.”
    Isabel tilted her head to one side, assessing the marble. “She is, isn’t she?”
    Her reverent words shook him from his inspection. He turned to her, noting the way she looked at the statue—with something akin to longing. “More importantly, she is real.”
    She looked up sharply, “You doubted as much?”
    “It is not every day that I stumble across a woman who professes to have a collection of marbles such as this.” He lifted one corner of a nearby cloth, “May I?” When she nodded her assent, he tugged on the fabric, revealing another statue, this one a warrior, spear in hand, on the hunt. He shook his head slowly. “It is not every lifetime that I stumble across a woman who is actually in possession of such a collection.”
    She smiled as she unveiled a cherub. “I am happy that our meeting has resulted in such excitement for you.”
    He paused in uncovering another statue, capturing her gaze. “Even without such a collection, Lady Isabel, I think it would be difficult to forget such a meeting.”
    Her blush sent a wave of pleasure through him. “I suppose I should admit defeat, my lord. You did, indeed, save my life. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
    He ran his hand over a marble bust of Dionysius, perfectly wrought, his fingers tracing the intricate lines of the grape leaves that encircled the head of the statue. “Allowing me access to such a collection is an excellent start at repaying that debt.” He looked to her again. “It is a tragedy that it is hidden away.”
    She paused, and when she spoke, her voice held a tension that he did not like. “That will soon be remedied, thanks to you,” Isabel said with a small, sad smile. “Once you have identified them, the marbles must be sold.”
    His eyes widened. “You cannot sell them.”
    She busied herself with