Rogue of the Borders (29 page)

Worse, if Reneau were involved, had Shane put Abigail in danger by letting her work in the office? A sharp piercing coursed through him at the thought. Abigail might have an affliction that caused odd behavior, but he’d also learned to appreciate her intelligence, if not her stubbornness. The worry that she might be in danger and he was helpless here nagged at him.

Shane heard the rattling of keys and the shuffling of feet. A few minutes later, two gaolers appeared, one to unlock his cell and the other to bind his arms before they shoved him out. Whether Shane was going to be dragged before a magistrate or tortured, he didn’t know, but at least he was being taken somewhere.

To his surprise, his surly companions led him toward the front of the building to a small room he later learned was called the visiting box. Donald stood up immediately as the gaolers pushed him inside and then took their places by the door. Apparently, he would have no privacy, but then he hadn’t expected any.

“How are ye doing?” Donald asked with a worried look.

“As well as can be expected,” Shane answered and gave a small shake of his head to alert Donald to take care in what he said. “What have ye learned?”

Donald glanced toward the guards and then back to Shane. “The ship is being searched by the Customs men.”

“Were ye able to accompany them?”

“Nae. No one has been allowed back on board.”

Which meant Shane didn’t know if the cylinder had been taken or not. He couldn’t very well ask if Campbell had attempted to board. Guards’ ears were always pricked for the opportunity to solicit bribes, and Shane had no wish to implicate the Duke of Argyll in this mess. “No one?”

“No one,” Donald repeated, acknowledging the unspoken question with a slight nod to indicate he understood. “The friend ye asked me to contact is nae home either.”

Campbell must have had a pressing matter in Scotland if he weren’t in town for Parliament. Shane hoped there wasn’t additional trouble brewing on that front, although right now, he could do nothing about it.

“Have ye spoken to Jamie?” His cousin knew a little about Shane’s hidden mission. Perhaps he could find out something about the cylinder.

“Aye. He left yesterday afternoon to fetch Ian.”

“Why?” Even though Ian had inherited an English title of earl and Jillian was, in her own right, a marchioness, Shane didn’t want to involve them either. He was used to handling his own problems. Once the ship was found clean, Shane could present his case to the magistrate, along with his suspicions of being ensnared. MacLeod Shipping was a reputable company and he’d never had any kind of infraction before. “I can get this straightened out, given a little time.”

Donald looked uncomfortable. “’Tis nae just the
Border Lass
that interests them.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Customs is sending agents to Edinburgh to freeze the entire shipping line until each vessel can be inspected.”

“
What?
Do the fools have any idea of how many families will go hungry if I canna ship the kelp? Nae to mention the wool—’tis near shearing time.”

“I doona think they care,” Donald replied.

Customs probably didn’t. They were concerned only with collecting huge duties on imports and exports and lining their own pockets with a percentage. Shane knew many of the agents were unscrupulous, which was why he preferred dealing with only certain docks and custom houses. Shutting down his ships, while hurting him financially, didn’t compare to starving fishermen and crofters because of this lunacy. Damn whoever was responsible for this.

“Jamie and Ian will go to Edinburgh then?” Maybe Ian’s title would hold some sway with English agents.

“I doona ken the plans. Jamie tore out of the house like the hounds of hell were on his tail. I will be following the damn agents north, though, so doona fash.”

In spite of the situation, Shane gave his quartermaster a small smile. The man had stood by him for years. If anyone could handle the shipping situation, Donald could. “I ken ye will do all ye can. Do me a favor though?”

“Name it.”

“Make sure Abigail is nae fouled up in this.” His smile widened a bit when he thought of his feisty wee wife. “I will warn ye…’tis nae going to be easy, but ye must make her stay home.”

Donald took a deep breath. “It might be easier to stop the tide, but I will do it.” He paused. “Do ye want me to contact Sherrington? Perhaps he can arrange for better accommodations for ye?”

“Nae. I doona want him involved.” Shane knew offering coin to the head jail keeper could get him a cell with a bed, at least, but he could make due since the English weren’t known to actually let prisoners starve.

The last thing he needed to do was ask his father-in-law for help.

Later that afternoon, the guards came for him again. Neither of them spoke, just gestured, and Shane assumed he was in for his first round of
questioning
, which would undoubtedly be torture. Painful it would be, but they weren’t going to glean any bits of information about the smuggling business from him, since he dinnae deal in it. The one secret he did have—the documents hidden beneath a loose plank in his cabin—were nae what the customs men would be looking for, even though the information contained in that cylinder was worth more than a thousand ship loads of opium. A price the Holy See would gladly pay. Thankfully, the manuscript was not written in English, and Shane doubted customs men read Latin.

When Shane found himself in a small, windowless room with a wooden tub half-filled with water, he wondered if the guards intention was to semi-drown him first. He knew many a man panicked at the thought of being keel-hauled, a practice he didn’t use but that was effective if the man survived being dragged beneath the ship. Shane had been trained at an early age to swim great lengths under water and he could hold his breath for minutes. He looked again at the tub. It wasn’t deep, and even with two guards, they wouldn’t be able to hold him long. He’d had lessons in untangling himself from ropes underwater as well—and they hadn’t tied his hands.

“Wash up,” one of the guards said as he tossed him a bar of lye soap. “You have a lady visitor downstairs.”

Shane wasn’t sure if he was more surprised over being given the chance to get clean or because a woman waited to see him. For one daft moment, he thought it could be Abigail and his emotions soared, but in the next they plummeted. She was far north in Scotland and had no idea he was even in London, let alone Newgate.

A short time later, having gotten most of the stench off himself, although he could do nothing about his clothing, he entered the visiting box again. Mari looked up at him and sniffed delicately. “You do not smell as bad as I thought you would. I was told you would stink.” She smiled at the guards lurking in the doorway. “Could you stand outside, please? I would like a bit of privacy.”

They both snickered and then looked at each other. The first one shrugged. “She canna go anywhere.”

“’Tis a pity the female warder already searched her,” the second one said with a lecherous grin that Shane was tempted to wipe off his face. “Maybe we should have another look?”

Shane clenched his fists and glared at the men. “No one talks to—”

“Gentlemen,” Mari interrupted in a tone that sounded both authoritative and subtly inviting, as though the two ruffians were of the same social standing as herself. She handed each of them a half-crown. “I do not think a search will be necessary, do you?”

Their eyes rounded at the silver and they both tugged their forelocks as they backed out of the room.

Mari put her reticule on her lap and folded her hands. “There. Now we can talk as long as we keep our voices down.”

“What are ye doing here?” Shane asked, careful to slide the second chair away to keep the stench from her.

“To get you better accommodations, of course. I cannot have my cousin-by-marriage staying in what is probably a pigsty.”

A pigsty would be luxury, but Shane wasn’t about to describe cell conditions. “Does Jamie know ye came here?”

Mari waved a gloved hand. “He left in such a hurry.”

“He doesnae ken then. Ye should nae be here, lass. ’Tis nae place for a lady.”

Mari dismissed the thought with another wave. “Nonsense. My aunt Agnes, our butler, Givens and two footmen accompanied me. Jamie trained them all—well, not my aunt, of course.” Her eyes twinkled. “Robin and Joseph would love to show off those skills if anyone even looks at me wrong.”

Shane relaxed a bit. Robin and Joseph had been in Ian’s employ before Jamie took them to London. Mari should be safe enough, especially with her aunt acting as chaperone. The woman ran a boarding house and Shane suspected she was more than adept at boxing a man’s ears with her umbrella as well.

“Even so, Jamie will nae be pleased.”

Mari shrugged. “It will not be the first time. Actually, Jamie left the money for Givens to bring here, but I thought using my feminine wiles might be helpful.”

Shane groaned inwardly. What he’d just witnessed was bad enough. If Jamie ever found out his wife had set out to flirt with the chief warder— “What did ye do?”

“Nothing much,” Mari said evasively. “Besides, once the warder heard my sister was a marchioness and her husband an earl, he was more than eager to offer you better conditions. I would have brought Abigail’s father—”

“Nae. I doona need his help.”

Mari rolled her eyes. “Men. At any rate, you will have your wish. The earl is at his country estate.”

That was good news at least. Shane definitely did not want Sherrington to see him here—or to smell him either.

“Is there anything else you want me to do while we wait for Jamie and Ian to return? I think I could bring you home-cooked meals, especially if I bring the warder a helping as well. What would you like?”

“Nothing. Ye have done enough to help, thank ye.” Shane eyed her speculatively. “Perhaps I could ask one more wee favor?”

“Certainly. What is it?”

“Would ye deliver a message to the Duke of Sussex’s physician?”

Mari’s eyes widened. “You want me to contact the Prince Regent’s brother?”

“Nae directly. It is Dr. Morrison I need to talk to.” Shane hated to involve anyone in his mission, but he had to find out if the cylinder had been found. The doctor would understand the request, even if it weren’t in code. “Tell him that I have a metal cylinder under a loose board in my cabin and it needs to be retrieved. It…is a gift that I doona want anyone else to get.”

“Oh. You bought Abigail something. What is in it?”

Shane didn’t bother to correct Mari’s assumption. Better she think it a gift for his wife. “A document in Latin.”

Mari wrinkled her nose. “Only Abigail would appreciate that.”

“Ye are probably right,” Shane agreed. “Still, ’tis important to me. Will ye do it?”

“Of course. I will let you know what he says.”

“Nae, lass. Doona come here again. Just have the doctor send word.”

Mari looked as though she might argue, but then she nodded and stood. “I will leave my calling card at the duke’s this afternoon.”

“Thank ye,” Shane said and then followed the guards as they led him to a different part of the prison. The new room contained not only a bed with a stuffed pallet—free of bugs and vermin to his relief. A pitcher and basin for washing stood on a small table beside a wooden chair and in a corner, a chamber pot as well. Compared to his previous cell, this place was luxurious. He wondered exactly how much money Jamie had to part with.

A short time later, a scullery boy arrived with a meal. While nothing was hot, the bread was not too stale and the cheese free of mold. A sliver of dried meat had even been added, although as skinny as the lad was, Shane suspected there might have been two slices of meat originally. Still, the meal was another indication that Jamie’s
donation
to the chief warder, or perhaps Mari’s flirtation—an idea Shane didn’t even want to contemplate—was the reason for the generous bounty.

Shane stretched out on the bed, the first time he’d felt comfortable lying down in over twenty-four hours. So far, he hadn’t seen any rats either. Now all he could do was wait for word from Sussex.

It wasn’t until two days later that a guard brought him a note from Dr. Morrison. It simply read, “At the moment, I am unable to fill your prescription.”

Shane crunched the paper and threw it down. He didn’t need code to understand.

The metal cylinder was gone.

Chapter Twenty Five

Janet was back, albeit wearing a cast. Meals were once again tasty and the household tidy. Albert helped his wife and spent time at the office as well. Even Richard had improved his attitude, whether because Albert was back or Fiona put in appearances, Abigail didn’t know, but things seemed to be running smoothly, both at home and the business.

Yet, as the days passed, Abigail grew more and more worried. Shane should have been home by now. What was keeping him? She didn’t even want to consider he might have already annulled their marriage. More and more, she sought the sanctuary of Shane’s library, a place where she imagined his scent lingered and she could almost feel his presence.

Entering the room on this gloomy, grey afternoon, she wasn’t surprised to see Shauna curled up in one of the chairs close to the warmth of the hearth.