0764213512 (R) (47 page)

He stared at her for a long moment in that baffled way, shaking his head. “Ye know who ye put me in mind of?”

As if he hadn’t shouted it at her a hundred times. “My mother.”

“Nay. Lilias. Blasted nuisance, she is . . . but a fine Kinnaird.” He nodded and turned to the door too. “Ye have my word.”

Perhaps that
would
be enough.

Twenty-Six

A
nd
that’s
meant to be a secure hiding place?”

Brice hammered the board back into place and told himself not to grit his teeth. Mother had taken him aside and cautioned him to be kind, to be receptive, to grant Lochaber a way to help. According to her, this was a great step on his part, one that should be encouraged.

And he would only be visiting for a few days. All right, a week—he’d announced his intentions to stay through when his wife brought Annie in six days’ time. One little week, and then Brice wouldn’t have to see the man for months.

See? There was reason to smile as he straightened from the floor of the old playhouse nestled in the trees. It had seen better days, having not had a child’s laughter to brighten it for many years. But then, that was rather the point. “I think it a perfect hiding place. No one would expect priceless gems to be hidden out here—hence, no one would look for them without a tip.”

Lochaber grunted. “I do hope ye havena put the real things in a place so insecure.”

Why, again, had the man followed him? All he’d done to help was stand about criticizing while Brice pried up a board in the corner, slid in the rubies his jeweler had obligingly delivered at first light, and nailed the wood back into place. “Well, you haven’t stubbed your toe on them yet, have you?”

Lochaber didn’t so much as chuckle. “If they’re as valuable as my daughter said, they ought to be under lock, key, and guard.”

And announce to the world where they were? “Your opinion is duly noted.” He ducked out of the miniature house and headed back for the real one—it was within view, which was part of the reason for his choice of makeshift hiding place. The constable’s men would be watching from the windows, and when they saw Lady Pratt—and hopefully her brother too—approaching, they would give the signal to the men who would be hiding in the woods. Said men would make their move once the thieves had the jewels in hand.

Quick, simple, effective. Once caught in the act of stealing, they would have little hope of escaping the charges. And Brice intended to have the story of his selling them to a wealthy sheik ready for the telling whenever they got out.

Lochaber’s attention had drifted to the path Catherine was to follow, assuming she listened to the advice Rowena would impart on where to sneak onto his property. “And what if they dinna play along? What then?”

He couldn’t think about that. “They’ve been seeking the Fire Eyes for a lifetime. They won’t stop when they’re so close. Greed will take over.”

The curse would bite.

Lochaber shook his head. “But it all hinges on them getting the note, reading it, acting right off. What if Lady Brat is out calling? We havena time to wait. Malcolm could be here on the afternoon train.”

“Have you always such a cheery outlook?”

Halting, Lochaber emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. “’Tisn’t wrong o’ me to think things through and point out the flaws in your plan, lad. How else will ye fix them?”

“All right.” The man probably had a point. . . . Though a nicer way of putting it wouldn’t be ill received. “What do you suggest, my lord?”

“Dinna leave it to a courier—that’s what.” Lochaber lifted his chin. “I’ll deliver the message myself, and if she isna at home, then I’ll track her down. Say Rowena entrusted me with it where she wouldna anyone else. And I’ll employ my particular charm to ensure she does as we want.”

“Charm?” It came out too scoffing, but Brice couldn’t help himself. “You mean, you’ll antagonize her?”

For the first time since that trap of a dinner, Lochaber smiled at him. “Exactly. Ye’ve yer way, Duke—and I’ve mine.”

Well, if anyone could succeed at chafing Catherine into acting, it was likely the Earl of Lochaber. “A fine change to the plan—and I thank you for volunteering.”

“I told you I’d help. I’m helping.”

Brice moved onward again. They really hadn’t any time to waste, and he’d scarcely seen Rowena since they rose two hours ago. She’d been perfecting the letter she’d send to Catherine, he’d been dealing with the jeweler, the constable, hiding the rubies.

Mother and Ella had gone, at his request, to spend the day at hospital with Old Abbott and young. He suspected they would pay Miss Abbott a visit at the jail as well, given the look they’d exchanged. And they’d promised to send an update on Abbott’s condition.

No bad news had come thus far. He must have made it through the night.
Please, Lord, let that mean he’ll pull through altogether. Please
.
As all the others whose names Ella keeps reciting, let him pull through. Heal him, fully. Grant him the miracle he needs.

As they neared the door, Lochaber said, “I’ll fetch the letter from Rowena and head out directly. It’s early yet to pay a call, but I think that’ll work to our advantage, aye?”

“I should say so.”

“Duke.”

Brice paused with his hand on the latch and looked over his shoulder.

Lochaber stood without a smile now—but also without a frown. No judgment in his eyes, if no warmth. He held Brice’s gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded.

Approval? Appreciation? Merely acknowledgment of the danger they were inviting today? Though he couldn’t be entirely sure, he suspected it was a combination of it all. And so he nodded in return.

They found Rowena sealing the letter into an envelope, stamping her personal
N
design into the pooling wax. Upon their entrance, she held it up. “Here we are.”

Her hand was steady . . . but the writing on the envelope wasn’t. It looked hurried and harried, just as it should. “Perfect. Your father will be delivering it.”

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded. “I suppose it would make sense to her. If she asks, he can say he merely came down a few days before Annie and Elspeth. Just dinna mention Malcolm, Father. She must think she is in control there.”

“Aye. I’m not a dunce.” He took the letter, slid it into his pocket, and spun on his heel. “I trust your drivers know how to get me to this woman’s house?”

He didn’t wait for a response, and Brice didn’t try to halt him. Instead he held out a hand and, once Rowena put her fingers in his, pulled her to her feet so he could wrap his arms about her. “How are you feeling?”

“The toast seems to have settled, for which I’m thankful. Though to be perfectly honest, I’d rather skip this day altogether and wake up to tomorrow—wherein Mr. Abbott shall have proven Ella right and awakened, Catherine shall have been arrested, and Malcolm shall have been discovered to have passed out in the pub in Lochaber, thought the telegram a dream, and given up all thought of coming here.”

“Mm.” He rested his head against hers. “That would be lovely.”

She nestled against him and trailed a finger down his tie. “Brice . . . when all this is over, I . . . I dinna want to wait any longer. To be yours in every sense, I mean. Had I not been so miserably ill last night when we went upstairs, I would have . . .” She blushed to a halt.

Who knew he would have found a reason to grin today? “Giving me incentive for getting through this day?”

“In one healthy piece.” She smiled up at him. With the kind of smile that tied a man in knots. “I love you. I canna promise that there willna be any panic, but I think I’m ready. I ken ye’ll never hurt me. And when ye kiss me . . .”

He did so now, just a featherlight touch of his lips on hers. “When I kiss you?”

“I ne’er want you to stop. I canna think of anyone, anything but how ye make me feel.”

Were it a different day, he would have accepted the unspoken invitation to test that now, to kiss her until they both melted. But the pressure he’d felt since the minute he woke up this morning pressed harder upon him, and he drew away a few inches. “My darling, I want . . .”

She inched away too, but her smile was all soft light. “I know.”

“But we must . . .”

“Aye. ’Tisn’t the time. Constable Morris will be here any minute. And until he arrives . . .” She caught his hand, tugged him toward the settle. “You lead the prayer,
mo muirnín
. Ye’re better at finding the right words.”

No words felt sufficient, not today. Not with so many lives teetering on the balance. But he did his best to put voice to the cries of his spirit. For the Abbotts. For the constabulary. For Mother and Ella. For him and Rowena. That Lochaber would be able to influence Catherine as required.

That they would be protected from Malcolm.

But there were praises too. That her father had come to warn them. That Geoff had survived the night. That no one else had been harmed yesterday.

When he breathed his amen and opened his eyes, he found they were no longer alone in the drawing room. Much of the upper staff had slipped in, bowed their heads, and joined the prayer. Davis and Cowan, Lapham and Lewis, Mrs. Granger and Mr. Child . . . who had a hand on the small of Cowan’s back. Brice slanted a glance at Rowena, but she didn’t seem to have noticed.

A conversation for another day.

The butler reclaimed his hand and tucked it behind his back, clearing his throat. “The men have arrived, Your Grace. Shall I show those who will be positioned inside where to go?”

“Please. And I’ll take the others outside. Rowena—”

“As I promised. I’ll stay inside, out of the way.”

Brice sent her a scowl. “I did
not
say out of the way.”

His wife grinned. “Out of the way, out of harm’s way . . . the result is the same.”

“Hmm.” He touched a finger to her chin and then stood. “Just be safe—that’s all I ask.”

Cowan bustled forward. “We’ll go to the upstairs sitting room. Not as good a vantage as the men will have, but we’ll be able to glimpse a bit.”

Mrs. Granger nodded. “I’ll bring up a tray of tea things. I’ve already put out to the inns and hotels that we’ll not be conducting tours today, as requested, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Granger.” Brice kissed Rowena’s hand and then turned her over to the older women, who would no doubt coddle and try to distract her until it was all finished. Would have driven him crazy—and probably would her too—but caring for her would keep
them
busy and out of harm’s way.

And keeping the household from any more injuries was everyone’s top priority today.

He met the group of trusted men in the entryway and led them out the back, to the various places he and the gardener had chosen this morning. Every possible path of escape would be covered by at least one man, the more likely ways by three or more. In the garden, they would be concealed by hedges and sheds, behind gates and statuary. In the woods, the spryer of them would opt for height in the trees and the majority would crouch behind brush that would conceal them from whichever way Catherine might come.

All would be listening for the bird call of their fellows in the house, watching for her arrival.

By the time Brice got them all situated, he could hear the crunch of gravel from the front. Lochaber came around the side of the house just as Brice was heading back through the garden to the rear door.

He didn’t quite know how to read his father-in-law’s face. He certainly didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t look any more displeased than usual, either. Brice headed his way. “How did it go?”

Lochaber spared a curt nod. “I daresay she willna be far behind. Piece of work, that one. Are ye well acquainted?”

“Only well enough to know I have no desire to know her better.”

That earned him a brief smile. “I’ve met a few like her before—not my favorite people, but I ken well enough how to speak to them.”

“Well, I appreciate you doing so. I think all is in place—”

“Sir!” Mrs. Granger’s voice broke in, sounding frustrated. “I beg your pardon, but when I said no tours, I didn’t mean you could take yourself on one!”

Brice barely stifled a moan. Apparently they hadn’t gotten the word out to everyone in ample time. If they’d had the leisure of choosing their own day for this all to transpire, it wouldn’t have been on one when tours were normally given. “Excuse me. I had better intervene—we have had tourists sneak away before, but their curiosity usually flees rather quickly when they realize they’ve been caught by the master of the house.”

Lochaber muttered something about the lack of wisdom of giving tours in general, but Brice ignored him and turned toward the corner of the house where Mrs. Granger’s voice had come from. The poor woman must have been chasing the fellow all the way around, for her next shout sounded short on breath and growing ever more in outrage.

Another day, it would have been amusing. Today . . . He paused when a dark-clad figure rounded the corner.

Tall, broad. Dark hair falling over his forehead, dark eyes. And lips that curved up into a dark, cruel smile when he spotted Brice.