Provoked (17 page)

“What happened to you?” Chalmers asked when David approached him in the library. The man’s eyebrows were raised—that was about as dramatic a reaction as it was possible to get from Chalmers.

“Thieves. My own fault. I took a shortcut home on Saturday night through a dark close.”

“Not the brightest idea you’ve ever had,” Chalmers concurred. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll live.”

With that, they got down to business.

They worked well together. Chalmers appreciated David’s hard work, and David welcomed the older man’s shrewd insights. Chalmers questioned some of David’s conclusions about the case and made several additional suggestions David hadn’t thought of which they debated vigorously. David grew animated as they discussed the case, his sharp mind dissecting Chalmers’s arguments as he dealt with them point by point. He had always been able to rely on his work for this—to draw him out of himself; to help him forget his worries.

When the solicitor arrived for the consultation, Chalmers gave the man a list of tasks as long as his arm to carry out over the next two weeks before they consulted again. There would be little for David to do on the case before then, and he left the meeting feeling aimless.

He had several other cases, but not much was happening on any of them at present. He went to speak with his clerk, but there were no messages for him, and when he checked his box again, it was empty.

He felt low when he left the library, and without any conscious decision to do so, took a detour on the way home to buy another bottle of whisky. He drank half of it with his scanty dinner, falling into a mercifully dreamless sleep in front of the fire.

By Wednesday, he still hadn’t heard anything from Euan, and the lad’s silence had begun to bother him. David hadn’t liked how Euan had been talking on Saturday night as they watched the entrance to the Assembly Rooms from their dark close. Following Isabella Galbraith. Watching for Lees. In one evening, his plan had escalated into something new and infinitely more dangerous.

Midmorning, David went to the library, where he made himself speak to a few of the senior advocates. Then he spent an hour in a coffee house, trying to read a newspaper before heading down Fleshmarket Close. It was his third visit since the attack, and this time he found his quarry—Janet the whore. He pressed a half crown into her hand, waved off her garbled thanks and took his leave.

He decided then that it would do no harm to take a turn down to the New Town, to see if Euan was indeed there. He knew the Galbraiths lived on Heriot Row after all, and it wasn’t as though he had anything better to do.

It was a cold but sunny autumn day, and David enjoyed the stroll. If he’d been at home on a day like this, striding down the country lanes near Midlauder, he’d have taken his hat and coat off, but that wasn’t possible in the grand part of Edinburgh that was the New Town. Instead he had to content himself with tipping his head back and letting the sun shine directly on his face.

When he got to Heriot Row, he slowed his pace and began to carefully observe his surroundings but was unable to spot anything out of the ordinary. He was so busy looking for a young man loitering that he didn’t notice the two ladies strolling towards him.

“Mr. Lauriston! What are you doing here?”

His head snapped up to see Elizabeth Chalmers and her sister Catherine approaching him, arm in arm.

“Miss Chalmers, Miss Catherine—” he began but broke off when he saw Elizabeth’s expression. Her eyes were wide with horror.

“Oh my word, what
happened
to you?” she cried.

With an inward sigh, he pasted a smile upon his face and told the story he’d now told a dozen times all over again.

“Oh, you poor thing!” Elizabeth exclaimed when he was finished. “Did you have anyone to look after you?”

“I didn’t need anyone—”

“Of course you do, everyone does!”

“Truly,” he insisted. “It looks much worse than it is. My pride has taken the hardest blow. It was very foolish of me to go where I did.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest his waving away of her concern, but he beat her to it, asking brightly, “And where are you ladies off to on this lovely day?”

“We are on our way to call on Miss Galbraith,” Catherine replied. “She lives on this very street.”

“Oh, does she?” David replied, managing a creditable degree of polite surprise.

“Yes, at the other end,” Catherine said, gesturing to where David had just come from. He thought quickly. At the very least, it would be good to see exactly where Miss Galbraith lived.

“Will you allow me to escort you both, then?” he asked, turning on his heel. “I really ought to return to Parliament House, and your company, if only for a few minutes, would make that a much more pleasant prospect.”

Elizabeth beamed, and Catherine smiled politely. “That would be lovely,” Elizabeth said happily, curling her little hand round David’s proffered arm.

They strolled slowly back down Heriot Row, making polite conversation. David tried to appear interested in the ladies’ excitement over a lecture on phrenology they had attended while surreptitiously looking for any sign of Euan.

“Oh, look, Lizzie,” Catherine suddenly said, interrupting her sister. “It is Lord Murdo
again
!”

David’s heartbeat immediately quickened from an easy stroll to a full-blown gallop. He looked up and saw Balfour leaving a house only twenty yards away.

“You were right,” Catherine continued, laughing. “This has to be more than mere friendship. Surely he means to ask Bella to marry him? He has been showing her such
particular
attentions.”

“Kate, really!” Elizabeth chided. “It is quite wrong for you to talk so in front of Mr. Lauriston. He will be embarrassed!”

David made some automatic protest that he wasn’t remotely embarrassed. At the very same moment, Balfour turned his head. Their gazes met, and Balfour looked briefly shocked at David’s appearance, though he covered it quickly.

He waited for them to reach the house he had just left, greeting the ladies with a smile as they drew closer.

“Miss Chalmers and Miss Catherine, how nice to see you both again.” He nodded at David. “Mr. Lauriston.”

“Good afternoon, Lord Murdo,” Elizabeth replied. “We are here to call on our friend, Miss Galbraith. I gather you have had the same notion.”

“Indeed,” Balfour said. “I am sure you will find her in very good health, as I did.”

David decided it was time to retreat, preferably leaving Balfour with the ladies while he made good his escape. “Please do excuse me, Miss Chalmers, Miss Catherine. I must go if I am not to be late.” He glanced at Balfour and gave the barest nod. “Lord Murdo.”

“What happened to you, Lauriston?” Balfour demanded.

“Mr. Lauriston was attacked!” Catherine supplied before David could speak.

“Attacked?”

David opened his mouth to demur, but Elizabeth spoke before he could do so. “Yes! On the way home from the Assembly on Saturday! Isn’t it too awful?”

Balfour said nothing. His expressionless gaze was pinned on David.

“It was nothing,” David murmured. “Just a bit of foolishness on my part.”

“Foolishness?”

David felt warmth steal over his cheeks. “I took an unwise shortcut late at night,” he said, shrugging. “And paid the price, as you can see.”

“Yes, I see.”

There was a brief, awkward silence.

“I really must go,” David said. He bowed over the ladies’ hands and took his leave, promising to call on them soon at Elizabeth’s urging. He felt sure he was going to get away alone, but Balfour moved away with him as the ladies climbed the steps to their friend’s house.

“You look awful,” Balfour said flatly once they were out of earshot.

David scowled and said nothing, quickening his step. Balfour merely picked up his own pace to keep abreast of him.

“Why were you so stupid as to take a shortcut so late at night?” Balfour demanded. “You strike me as an intelligent fellow.”

David ignored him, but Balfour kept talking.

“Do you have a death wish? You could have been killed—” The man’s voice was rising, inexplicable anger in his tone.

David ground to a halt, turning to face him with clenched fists and jaw. “What business is it of yours?” he bit out.

That brought Balfour up short. He faced David with equal belligerence, but though his gaze was angry—accusing, almost—he said nothing, pressing his lips together as though to stop any words emerging. David returned his stare for a long moment, then shook his head and turned on his heel. Somewhat to his surprise, Balfour followed.

The silence between them was oppressive, and after a while, David couldn’t bear it any longer. He forced himself to be civil. Normal. As though the last few minutes had not taken place. “Did you find Miss Galbraith in good spirits?” he asked politely.

“Yes.” Balfour paused, then added slyly, with a sidelong glance, “What did you make of her? She’s very lovely, don’t you think?”

David hesitated for a moment before agreeing. “Yes, very. Accomplished too, I’m sure. And well-bred.”

Balfour looked straight ahead again. “Hmmm.”

“All in all a perfect wife,” David added coolly.

Balfour smiled without looking at David. It was a humourless, inward smile. A little bit hateful. “Do you seek to make a point, my friend?”

David realised then he couldn’t pretend civility with Balfour. “I’m not your friend,” he said.

Balfour’s expression tightened, but he ignored David’s comment. “Fancy Miss Galbraith for yourself, do you?”

David flushed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“What, then?”

“Catherine Chalmers just mentioned she believes you’re about to ask for Miss Galbraith’s hand in marriage.”

Balfour huffed out a laugh. “And if I am?”

“Are you?”

“Perhaps. My father thinks she’d be an ideal wife for me. What do you think?”

David forced himself to shrug. “I have no idea, but I’ll wish you happy, of course.”

Balfour gave a bark of laughter. “How kind.”

That laugh made David feel foolish and angry. He wanted to lash out at the other man. Tell him he wasn’t fit to wed any woman. It took all his self-control to stay silent.

He felt Balfour’s gaze on his face but kept looking resolutely ahead.

“Listen, I don’t want—” Balfour began after a brief silence, only to break off, his step faltering suddenly.

David turned his head then, his own pace stuttering to a halt. There was perhaps a second—less—when Balfour stood still, staring across the road, eyes wide with surprise. And then, just as David looked in the direction of Balfour’s gaze, Balfour set off at a run. He was already past David by the time David saw what it was that had gripped his attention: another man. Tall and soberly dressed. Walking smartly, then quickening to a run as Balfour shouted a name after him.

“
Hugh!
”

The man threw a glance over his shoulder as he disappeared round a corner, Balfour on his heels.

He could’ve been Balfour’s brother.

Chapter Thirteen

A full day passed before David heard from Euan again. A full day during which David worried about the lad almost incessantly.

He was sure the man he’d seen Balfour chasing after must be Lees. If that was right, it meant Lees was here, in Edinburgh, just as Euan had always thought. And if Balfour had found him, on Isabella Galbraith’s doorstep, might Euan have done so too? Might their confrontation already have taken place?

If so, what had become of Euan?

The lad had promised he would speak to David before he went after Lees, but it had been five days since David had seen him. Perhaps Euan had seen his quarry and given in to the temptation of facing up to him then and there? But he
had
promised not to do so, and David knew he was not one to make a promise lightly.

Although David had nothing pressing to work on, he went to the library after lunch to check if Euan had called on him there, or perhaps left a note in his box. But there was nothing, no message and no note. He went home again and tried to do some reading but couldn’t concentrate at all. By late afternoon, he’d decided to take another walk down to Heriot Row to see if he could find the lad there. He was just about to put his on coat when there was a knock at his front door.

And there, at last, stood Euan.

He was filthy and his skin was grey from exhaustion, his eyes red-rimmed. He had lost weight—in just a handful of days, he had become noticeably thinner. David stood aside to let the lad pass, but Euan didn’t move.

“I came to tell you I’ve found Lees,” he said, jaw set, expression grim. “So there you go. Promise fulfilled.” And with that he turned away, as if to go.

“Euan—wait.” David reached for him, catching him by the arm and pulling him back. “Come in, for God’s sake.”

Euan stopped, but he didn’t move. He stayed stock-still, resisting David’s tug at his sleeve, and stared at the ground. “I have to go—I have things to do, Davy.”

“You look terrible,” David said gently. “Have you been sleeping? Come in and eat something. Rest for a bit.”

“I can’t. I—”

“Just for a little while. Please.”

Euan stood rigid for a moment; then something in him seemed to give, and he turned. He looked weary to the very bone, as though he hadn’t slept or eaten for a long while. “All right. I’ll just come in for a bit, though.”

David boiled eggs and toasted bread over the fire while Euan washed up. He was slathering the toast in butter when Euan came back into the kitchen, fair hair damp and beard all scraped away, one of David’s clean shirts on his back.

“Go and sit in the other room in front of the fire,” David said brusquely. “Take this with you.” He thrust a pewter tankard of ale into the younger man’s hand.

“You’re always feeding me,” the lad said.

“You need to be fed. Go.”

After a pause, Euan obeyed, his gait stiff.

David dished the food onto a plate and poured a glass of whisky for himself, then followed Euan into the sitting room. The lad had settled into a winged armchair in front of the fire, and his eyelids were drooping already. David had to call his name softly to rouse him before he was able to hand the meal over and take a chair on the other side of the fire.