Sister of Rogues (5 page)

“I am sorry you were insulted, Mrs. MacLeod,” Kier said. “Kathleen sometimes speaks out of turn.”

Fiona managed a small smile. “I understand. I dinnae ask it right—”

“'Tis her own husband who took a mistress,” Lona added.

“No gossiping.”

“A faerie told me it was true.”

“An angel took my Calum,” Dulcee divulged to no one in particular, “but if I pray hard, she might bring him back to me.”

Fiona's head swirled with the strangeness of the conversation. What kind of a world had she been thrown into? And, more importantly, how did she get out?

Kier retreated to his library after the disastrous dinner, poured a liberal amount of whiskey into a glass and drained it quickly. Ada had returned from dealing with Kathleen and proceeded to march the others to their rooms in short order. Fiona had been only too glad to leave, and Kier couldn't blame her.

Why the hell he had decided to host a dinner party like he was still some damn aristocrat, he didn't know. He'd read
A
Treatise on Insanity
by Philippe Pinel recently and Kier thought the man's theories of lenity and forbearance, steady and dispassionate firmness made sense. Certainly, there had to be more humane treatment than inmates being chained to walls in cold, bare cells, subject to floggings and other tortures that went on at Bedlam in London and probably next door at the Dublin Asylum as well.

The key word Kier had trouble with when it came to Fiona was
dispassionate
.

Since yesterday when he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd been able to think of little else. He'd even dreamed of her last night. Her ethereal beauty haunted him. Given her entrance to his office, he suspected she also had an underlying fiery spirit—something he admired in a woman. He had absolutely no business taking a personal interest in any of his wards, let alone one who was grieving so hard she denied her husband's existence. Although Kier had not met her father, the notes Mr. Kelly had sent were quite clear. Fiona's mind was in a very fragile state.

Kathleen could have made no worse remark than suggesting Fiona spread her legs for him. Kier had seen Fiona's face flame red and then drain of colour completely, yet she had kept her composure. His own reaction hadn't been so admirable. His groin had tightened painfully with an erection hard and thick against trousers suddenly too tight.

Truthfully, Mr. Pinel's
Treatise
had little to do with the reason Kier had hosted the dinner party. The man in him wanted to impress Fiona. Even if reality eluded her, it was clear to Kier from the ball gown she'd worn that her Scots husband had been well-to-do. She was probably used to socializing in civilized circles. Like some besotted green youth, Kier had wanted to show Fiona he could compete. Evidently, he had not learned his lesson from Lady Jane Claire.

He shook his head. Maybe he was the one becoming delusional. Aside from being totally unethical, he couldn't take advantage of someone who might be clinging to reality by only fine threads. Kier poured another drink. Hopefully, he wouldn't dream of Fiona again tonight.

Chapter Four

“You can see the patient now, but only for a few minutes,” the doctor told Jamie as he paced furiously in the waiting room of the hospital.

Mari put her hand on Jamie's arm as he turned toward Brice's room. “He has had a concussion, so be easy with him.”

Jamie scowled. “Fiona has been missing for two days. Molydeux was the last person who saw her.”

“I am sure he will tell us what he knows.”

“He'd better,” Jamie replied and pushed open the door. Brice's eyes widened and his face turned as white as fresh milk. Fear? Jamie frowned again. Why?

“I did not think visitors were allowed,” Brice said feebly.

“We will only stay a few minutes,” Mari assured him. “You are aware that Fiona is missing?”

An impassive mask settled on his face. “I remember being hit. That is all.”

The man was lying. Jamie resisted the urge to haul him up in bed and choke the truth out of him, but Mari was already giving him her warning look. He wished conflicts could be settled in London as easily as they were in the Highlands, but here there were always damn rules to follow. Jamie forced himself to sound calm. “Tell us what you can remember before you were hit.”

“I remember it was hot in the ballroom. Fiona and I decided to take the air.” Brice hesitated. “A number of people were on the veranda and near the gazebo, so we strolled through the gardens.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes. “To the dark places in the garden? Where a mon might take advantage of a lass?”

Brice eyed him warily. “That was not my intention.”

“Please tell us what happened as you were strolling,” Mari intervened.

“I do not rightly recall. Something moved in the bushes. I thought it might be an animal of some sort and turned to investigate. As I did, someone accosted me.”

Jamie folded his arms over his chest. “How did ye come to be stabbed in an East End slum?”

The mask tightened on Brice's face. “I do not know.”

“Ye doona ken going there?”

“I just told you I do not know.”

“I think that is enough for now,” the doctor said as he re-entered the room. “I will not risk having my patient getting upset.”

“But—”

“Thank you,” Mari said quickly, tucking her hand into the crook of Jamie's arm. “Perhaps we can return when Mr. Molyneux is stronger?”

“Perhaps.”

Jamie waited until they were seated inside their carriage and headed home before he finally exploded. “The mon is nae telling the truth of it.”

Mari furrowed her brow. “I suppose it is possible that whoever hit him took him to that place while he was unconscious.”

“Fie! Why haul him that far if someone wanted to stab him? Or, for that matter, if whoever it was wanted to kill him, why not dump him in the Thames?” Jamie stopped, stricken, and punched his fist against his thigh. “What if Fiona—”

“Do not think about the river. I know it brings back bad memories.” Mari put her hand over Jamie's. “Besides, no bodies have turned up. That is a good sign.”

“Aye, but she cannae just have disappeared.” Jamie sighed and put an arm around Mari to draw her closer. “If Fiona was abducted, why have we nae received a ransom note?”

Mari nestled into his shoulder. “I do not know. None of it makes sense. Ladies are not simply whisked away from well-attended parties.”

“I should have kept a better eye on her. 'Tis my fault.”

“It is not your fault. There were plenty of eyes at the ball. At a
ton
party, the matrons watch any girl who might be competition for their own daughters.” Mari straightened and looked at him. “Lady Castlereagh has already provided the authorities with a list of guests. Someone must have seen something. We must be patient.”

“I have nae fondness of patience.”

“I do not either, but it is all we can do for now. The riders you sent to Gretna Green will go on to Glenfinnan. If I know your brother, Ian will ride like the devil is on his horse's tail to get here. And Shane should be returning from France within the week.”

“I will be lucky if they doona beat me to a pulp for letting this happen.”

“They will do nothing of the kind. They will help us.”

That they would. Fiona was their sister and cousin, after all, and they'd all rescued her from more scraps than anyone could remember. This one was more serious though. Regardless of what Mari thought, Jamie was pretty sure Ian and Shane would both beat him bloody before this was through—and he'd deserve it for not protecting his sister.

After the horrible dinner, Fiona didn't mind staying in her room the next morning, although she would have preferred not to be locked in. This was the third morning of her confinement and she still hadn't figured out any way to escape. Ada was in attendance when Fiona was allowed out of the room and Seamus stood duty at the front door. Her best chance was to reason with Kier, but she'd not had the opportunity to talk to him alone—and after last night's remarks by Kathleen, he would probably get the wrong idea if she managed to ask.

Fiona's cheeks grew hot at the thought of what had been suggested. At Glenfinnan, she'd stumbled upon—or to be truthful, had often
followed—
giggling maids to the stables where they'd met young groomsmen for trysts. Fiona had mostly sounds to go on, since she'd had to hide, but those sounds had excited her. The maids leaving with flushed faces and puffy lips had only added to Fiona's curiosity.

What would it feel like for Kier to hold her? Or more likely, to lie down with her since the maids usually had hay sticking to their hair and clothes. To feel his weight on her, pressing her into the soft down of a mattress? To do whatever it was that had the maids moaning and mewling? Would Kier's full lips be warm and pliant or hard and demanding? Kissing was definitely a part of what went on in those trysts. She'd even caught her brothers—on those occasions when she'd climbed trees and lofts—stealing both kinds of kisses with willing ladies.

Fiona's breath hitched and she felt her eyes filling with tears. Her brothers—and Shane too—had always been aggravatingly protective, probably because her mother had died in childbirth and the woman her father had married had cared not one wit for children. How many times had Fiona stubbornly argued with Ian and Jamie that she could take care of herself—had even reminded them they had taught her to handle a sword and throw a knife? Little good that did her now. There had not been even a table knife at dinner last night.

She could only imagine Jamie's reaction to her missing. At first, he'd be irritated, thinking she'd gone off on another of her
adventures
as she called them. Would he blame Brice? Lord, she didn't even know what had happened to Brice. How badly had he been hurt? Fiona didn't think Brice had been taken anywhere. She'd heard him fall and he certainly had not been on the ship to Ireland. Hopefully, he'd be able to help Jamie piece together what had happened, but Brice would have no way of knowing she had been taken out of the country.

Determinedly, Fiona wiped away her tears. Crying would do no good. She had to figure a way to resolve this situation herself. If she couldn't get Kier alone and make him listen to reason, she needed another plan. Drawing a ragged breath, Fiona looked out the window at the courtyard below. All four wings of the castle opened to it. Somewhere, there had to be at least one other door.

She would find it.

Her face showing her disproval, Ada gestured three of them into a smaller dining room near the kitchens for the midday meal. The room was nowhere as grand as where they'd dined last night. White-washed walls held no paintings or other adornments. The table was roughhewn oak, the wooden chairs straight-backs, and the dinnerware simple pewter bowls and cups. Still, Kathleen swept by the matron with her nose in the air, lifting the misshapen shift as though it were a silken ball gown. Dulcee followed slowly, oblivious to the matron's finger snapping. Fiona eased into a chair opposite Kathleen. Neither Lona nor Kier were present and Fiona knew better than to ask about Kier. “Where is Lona?”

Ada smirked. “She was sent for this morn.”

For some reason, her remark drew nervous glances from Dulcee, who dropped her spoon. Fiona noticed the comment also caused Kathleen to take a sharp breath. “Sent for by whom?”

By the sideboard, Erin and Brena stilled. Dulcee stared at the spoon she'd retrieved as though it were a foreign object and Kathleen tightened her lips.

“The warden sent for her,” Ada replied. “She needed a purge.”

Dulcee's face chalked and even Kathleen's robust colour turned pale. Fiona frowned. “A purge?”

Ada snickered. “Ye will find out about those soon enough.”

Before Fiona could question further, Seamus entered, half-dragging a limp, listless Lona with him. He pushed her on to a chair from which she promptly fell sideways. With a grunt, he caught and righted her. “Best to bind her,” he said.

“Just…sleep…please,” Lona whispered weakly, her face as ghostly white as the specters she supposedly saw.

“Ye would like that, wouldn't ye?” Ada said as she went to the corner of the room to gather a coiled rope she then wrapped it around the girl, securing her to the chair. “I'll not be lettin' ye dream of them ghosts again.” She slapped Lona's face as the girl's eyes closed. “The purge has cleaned ye and ye will stay awake.”

Fiona's hands coiled into fists beneath the table and she looked down at her plate lest the matron see the anger rising inside her. Her Highland blood made her itch for a
sgian dubh
. What had they done to Lona at the asylum? Fiona recalled the chilling sounds she'd heard the first day when she'd been in the warden's office. She also remembered Shane telling her brothers—he hadn't known she was listening behind the curtains in the library—what had happened to him at Newgate gaol. Prisoners, some of whom weren't even criminals, were horribly tortured for no reason. Was that was what was happening at the asylum as well?

With downcast eyes, Erin and Brena served the stew. Fiona doubted she could swallow a mouthful, as knotted as her stomach felt. Something had to be done. Yet never had she felt so helpless. And where was Kier? Could he have stopped the warden from taking Lona up there?

In silence, the meal dragged on with the slowness of oxen pulling a cart with broken wheels. Poor Lona was given only water to drink because, as Ada said, food would upset her body's humours. Fiona slipped her portion of bread into the one pocket her shift had, determined somehow to get it to Lona later.

Fiona forced herself to appear calm, although she was seething. The English still thought the Scots barbarians—and probably the Irish too—yet it was the English who controlled Dublin society and the Dublin Lunatic Asylum as well. Whatever the warden's minions had done during Lona's purge, it had left her a mere shell of the chattering person from last night, and she was weak as a newborn kitten.

For once, Fiona would have been glad to go to her room, but all of them were escorted outside to the courtyard for their appointed hour of
exercise
, which consisted of walking single file in a circle around the small yard. Since the day was damp and cool and none of them had coats, no one complained about moving about. Dulcee lagged behind as did Lona, who stumbled frequently, barely able to shuffle.

“Faster.” The matron gave Lona a harsh shove that sent her to the ground, and she then kicked her. “Get up.”

Fiona fairly flew across the short space, pushed Ada aside and knelt beside Lona. “Let me help ye,” she said and reached to assist the woman. Then she felt herself yanked back hard as Seamus forced her to rise. He twisted her arm behind her, but Fiona managed to kick back with her heel and land it just beneath his kneecap as her brothers had taught her. The man grunted in surprise and then raised his fist to cuff her.

“Halt!” Kier strode into the courtyard, his Hessian boots a staccato beat across the cobblestones, his face lined in fury. “What the blazes is going on?”

“That one…” Ada pointed to Fiona, “…pushed Lona to the ground. Seamus was stopping the fight.”

Fiona gaped at her and then looked around for someone to tell the truth. Dulcee's expression was empty, although she whispered to herself, and Kathleen's eyes fixed on a piece of shrubbery. Why didn't someone speak up? Ada smiled at her and Fiona realized they were all scared of the woman. She controlled the urge to spit in Ada's face.

“Release Mrs. MacLeod,” Kier demanded and then bent to help Lona stand. “What happened?”

She looked nervously to Ada and then at Fiona. “I…I fell. It just looked like Fiona pushed me.”

Ada's face darkened. “Ye are lyin'. I saw with me own eyes what happened.”

What little colour Lona had drained completely and she swayed. “I…I…”

“I did push her,” Fiona interrupted, realizing punishment would be swift and cruel for Lona if Ada didn't get her way. “I didnae mean to though. I was walking too fast since 'tis cold out here.”

Kier frowned, seeming to notice for the first time that all four women were clad in nothing but muslin shifts. “Where are your shawls?”

Nobody answered and he raised a brow, turning to Ada. “Why were the women not given shawls?”

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “It felt warmer earlier.”

“Well, it is not now. Everyone needs to go inside.”

“Wait,” Fiona said as they all turned toward the door. “I would like to apologize to Lona first.”

Kier smiled. “I think that would be good.”

Fiona moved toward Lona, hugged her with one arm about the shoulders and deliberately blocked Ada's view with her body. With her other hand, Fiona slipped the chunk of bread into the pocket in Lona's shift. “'Tis truly sorry I am if I hurt ye.”