“You have a letter,” Cain Sinclair informed Paul. Holding it in one hand, he leaned across the table inside the tavern. The small room was thick with pipe smoke, and men played cards at another table. Paul set down his mug of ale and eyed Sinclair with wariness. They’d traveled south from Scotland over the past few weeks, following the Andrews girls. How on earth could there be a letter for him? No one even knew he’d come to London.
Sinclair passed it to him, and Paul studied the handwriting. “And who is this from?”
“Lady Lanfordshire.” From the way the man was grinning, Paul strongly suspected Cain was lying.
“Liar. She’s still in Scotland, and she wants naught to do with the likes of me.”
Cain only shrugged. “Open it and see.”
Paul glanced through the contents of the letter. It invited him to dwell at their London town house for a few days, until he found his own living arrangements. The girls would remain with their aunt Charlotte in the meantime. He showed the contents to Sinclair in disbelief.
“Why would Lady Lanfordshire allow me to stay in her home? And how did you get this letter?” He didn’t believe for a moment that she would want him there. Especially after she’d set her sights on a titled husband for Juliette.
“It wasna written by Lady Lanfordshire. Her youngest daughter, Amelia, forged her mam’s signature. She thinks you’re still in Scotland and that I’ll have to deliver it to you there. I got it from her when I went to sell some things on behalf of the young ladies.” Sinclair grinned and tapped the note. “So long as you’re gone by the time Lady Lanfordshire returns to London, there’s nae harm in it. The house is empty. Take the letter to her butler, and he’ll believe it.”
Paul blinked at that. “But why would she do such a thing?”
Sinclair shrugged. “Could be Miss Amelia’s tryin’ to help you. She’s given you a few days, and the servants willna know any differently.”
“And when Lady Lanfordshire finds out, she’ll have me hanged, drawn, and quartered. No, that wouldna be a good idea.” Better to keep to his own rented hovel than to trespass where he wasn’t wanted. Even if itwouldbring him closer to Juliette.
“She’s a sly one, Amelia is,” Cain continued. “Were I in your place, I’d take the risk. You have at least a fortnight before anyone could get here.” As they continued their walk into Mayfair, he added, “And I can ensure that Miss Juliette knows you’ve come.”
Paul wasn’t certain that was a good idea. Although he had followed her here, he didn’t want her to feel threatened. “Don’t be saying a word,” he warned. “I’ll tell her myself.”
Sinclair shrugged. “As you will.”
Paul tucked the letter away and regarded the man. “There’s something else you’re no’ telling me, isn’t there?”
Cain drained his own glass. “They found Joseph MacKinloch’s sister. Strathland’s men killed her, as we thought. No one’s seen MacKinloch since.”
MacKinloch would not simply disappear, Paul knew. And with his sister dead, he had nothing more to lose.
“He might help us,” he said to Sinclair. “He has a reason as strong as ours to bring Strathland down.”
Cain poured him another tankard of ale. “And what could MacKinloch do? He’s got no money, nor any family left. If he stays, he’ll face trial for the fire, and lose.”
“Aye.” But Paul couldn’t let go of the idea that the former footman could be useful in some way. “While we’re here, I want you to find out what you can about the wool buyers. Find out who is buying from Strathland.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll meet with them and convince them to buy their wool elsewhere.” Paul wasn’t entirely certain how, but they had to start somewhere.
Sinclair nodded. “I’ll go with you, aye. But you’re the one with greater influence than me.”
Paul knew he was referring to his uncle. “The title’s no’ mine yet.” And he might not inherit at all, if his uncle ever married and had a son of his own. Though he’d given Paul a small allowance, Donald Fraser was of the mind that a man had to stand on his own feet and earn a living—which was why he’d paid for Paul to attend medical school in Edinburgh. Afterward, he’d wanted Paul to live on the estate and act as the physician for the people until he learned how to manage all of it. Instead, Paul had returned to Ballaloch. There was time enough to learn about his inheritance after his mother had a home again.
“There’s no one here to say otherwise, is there?” Cain interrupted his musings. “For all they know, youarethe viscount.”
“It’s a title that doesna belong to me yet.”
“But youarehis heir,” Sinclair insisted. “You can see Miss Andrews, court her openly, and stay in Lady Lanfordshire’s home.”
Paul set aside the tankard, not at all sure that was a good idea. Although his uncle had forced him to attend social gatherings, learning the proper way to behave, Paul had never been comfortable with it. He preferred the freedom of a tartan, instead of a confining waistcoat and jacket.
“I thought you came to London for Miss Andrews,” Cain said. “Or was I wrong? Were you planning to find another lass to wed?”
Paul leveled a stare at him. “She’s already told me she willna wed. No’ me, nor any man. Naught has changed.”
