He lifted his shoulders and blew out a breath. “However, that’s not what I came to talk about. So, let’s get back to Fergus. I was able to locate some old ship’s records, online and in some genealogy sites, but he wasn’t listed on any of them. That doesn’t rule out the possibility that he changed his name, of course. I certainly would have. And by all accounts, he never went back to his lodgings to collect his personal belongs. Which I guess, would make sense if he was on the run and had all that treasure. He could just start fresh.”
“Aye. ’Twould seem the logical thing tae do.”
But he didn’t! Reginald raged in his head. Even though everything pointed to Fergus’ guilt, Reginald just couldn’t accept it. Or, dinnae want to. Was his heart truly overriding his common sense?
“And…more discouraging news, I’m afraid,” Drew said hesitantly. “Another internet search produced his name, listed on an old legal document, though the date wasn’t legible.”
Reginald raised a brow, puzzled why Drew dinnae just tell him.
“It was a list of a dozen or so convicted thieves, along with their crimes and punishments. According to the document, Fergus was caught stealing some coins from a street merchant.” Drew dropped his chin. “As punishment, they cut off the third and fourth fingers on his left hand.”
A chill skittered up Reginald’s spine. As far back as he could remember, Uncle Fergus had been missing those two fingers, but Reginald never kenned why. He’d always supposed they’d been lost in some battle of honor. He snorted his disappointment. Even back then, his affection had blinded him to the truth.
“A thief.” There. He’d said it out loud. “That makes stealing the Jacobite treasure all the more plausible. Even probable.” He glanced at Drew. “Don’t you agree?”
“It doesn’t prove anything,” Drew said, getting to his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t have better news.”
“Thank ye, for coming tae tell me.”
Drew’s mouth twisted, sheepishly. “It could have waited. We both know that. But…well, itwasa great breakfast, wasn’t it?”
His grin prompted one from Reginald, as well. “The best. I ken the lassies would like it, if ye made it a regular occurrence. As would I,” he added. “I appreciate the time ye’re spendin’, on my daft notions.”
“Think nothing of it. Tracking down ghosts, is addictive.”
This time ’twas no’ a chill he felt, but a heavy stone that settled in his gut, reminding him this budding friendship with Drew could never be anything more. He was too good at history and research, and separating fact from fiction. What would happen if he ever decided to research Reginald?
Ghosts, indeed.
A small scraping sound in the loft caught their attention as a few wispy pieces of straw floated down. Reginald scowled. “It appears something besides horses has been living in here.”
Drew laughed. “A foreman’s job is never done. I need to go, so I’ll leave you to your varmint hunt.”
Reginald clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll walk you out. I need to get some things from the shed.”
* * *
Reginald gathered hammer,nails, and a saw, and set them on the workbench, near the disassembled rocker, still covered by the huge, dusty sheeting. But, something dinnae feel quite right. When he took a closer look, he could tell things had been shifted since this morning. An uneasy feeling tightened his gut and he stooped down in the corner to make sure Lauren’s butterfly was where he’d hidden it, this morning.
“Looking for this?”
He stood and whirled at the same time, causing a dizzying sensation in his head. He shouldnae have fixed the door’s warning queak.
Deidre held the carving out like an accusation. “For Lauren, I assume, since I see her initials cleverly carved into the butterfly wings.”
Reginald took a step closer and held out his hand. “I’d like that back.”
She snorted. “You want everything, don’t you? Oh wait. Except for one thing.Me!”
“Deidre…” he tried to calm her, clearly seeing the indignation on her face and the outrage in her eyes. “I dinnae ever pretend—”
“Save it,” she snapped. “You’re all alike. You, Phillip, even Drew. I heard you and Drew, in the barn. I know why Phillip left.” Tears filled her eyes. “Is that why you don’t want me? I’m tooboring? What does Lauren have that I don’t? Oh, yeah. I remember, now. Brains. But it’s not her mind you’re interested in, is it? I saw the two of you, yesterday, on yourwalk. You didn’t mind kissingher, did you? What else? You came back awfully late. Yes. I saw the two of you in the kitchen, too.”
A couple of tears dropped from her lashes and rolled down her cheeks. “I’d have kissed you like that, if you’d asked me.”
In a flash, her face hardened. “You think I didn’t see you sneak out here the last two nights.” She jerked her chin toward the window. “I watched you carving this stupid thing, for hours. I watched where you hid it. You’re not nearly as clever as you think,” she snarled.
Reginald took another careful step closer. “Listen tae me, Deidre, I—”
