“Only if they pretend to be Scottish when they rob carriages.”
“What?”
Reuben grabbed the pistol from Molly’s hand and headed out the door. He didn’t even bother to look at the father or his cleaver. “Granny’s blaming it on the Scots.”
“Oh. That’s rude.” He held the door while Reuben stepped out. A moment later they were on their horses headed back to London. “How’d you know it was the granny?”
“Do you know of any young man who would give a necklace to his grandmother and not a pretty barmaid?”
“He could be a doting boy.”
“Or he could give the leader of the ring the only prize they’d gotten from the carriage.”
Jonathan thought about that. “You’re right. That makes more sense.”
He knew he was right. He wasalwaysright. And where had that gotten him? At odds with his entire family who wanted to take over what he managed, to do what he was so good at. Which meant he had to be smarter, better, and rise to a level they couldn’t touch.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.” Where he would marry his way out of his own kingdom and into the aristocracy.
Chapter Two
Reuben waited aweek before returning the necklace. He had questions about such a unique piece and the lady who claimed it. Fortunately, he had friends and relatives alike in London, all willing to impart every morsel of gossip available.
What he discovered was exceedingly boring.
Miss Iseabail Spalding was a Scottish debutante sponsored by the powerful Dowager Countess of Byrn. So far, she’d done nothing exciting except dance with someone who later got himself killed. Yawn. There was a rumor that she had a dowry of five-hundred gold pieces, but that wasn’t confirmed. Indeed, nothing about her Scottish ancestry was verified in the usual way of things. And though the necklace was an intriguingly shaped dragon with a dark red stone inside, presumably the dragon’s heart, there was little special about it. Any jeweler in London could replicate it, and a new one wouldn’t look half so beaten up.
Which meant he would have to go on his usual gut instinct and educated guesses. That began with this necklace. There was something very important about this particular piece. All he need do was discover it and turn it to his advantage. Which was why he waited until the entire household was outside to wave the future Duke of Aberbeag and his new wife Mairi off to Scotland. Easiest thing in the world to slip inside, find Miss Iseabail’s room, and wait for her to appear.
The first thing he did was search her room. She had little here beyond what had been purchased in London. Not a single item to remind her of Scotland except a well-made dirk kept hidden in her dresser. And here now was the newest piece of the puzzle, because knives had a history.
This was an old knife of the Murray clan. Add to that a tale he’d learned as a boy of the most famous witch in Scotland, and he had her true identity or at least a good guess. She was obviously not Witch Mary who had predicted Scotland’s victory at Culloden. The clans had been destroyed quite literally at that famous battle. Iseabail was probably the witch’s granddaughter living in hiding from those who wanted revenge.
He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, so he returned the weapon and settled himself against her bedpost, half hidden by the curtains. He liked surprising people. How they reacted told him a great deal about their character.
She came in and shut the door. Her cheerful expression dropped away, softening her face until he saw high cheekbones worn down with care. It was stark look on her long face and he was struck by the hard elegance of it. She looked to him like a young queen might, one who was raised in hard times and had yet to choose a life of compassion or bitter fury. He rather hoped she went the furious route. What a magnificent creature she would be.
He made a sound by accident. A noisy footfall as he took a step toward her. An extraordinary slip from him and one that forced his hand into brazenness. He might have approached her differently otherwise, but there was no help for it now as she ran to her dresser to grab her dirk.
“I wouldn’t do that, lass,” he said, “else how can we negotiate?”
Her fingers were on the weapon, but she didn’t strike out with it. She was a thinker, this one, not prone to rash actions. But she was also used to fighting, because she held the knife with an experienced hand even as she turned to inspect him from head to toe.
Damn, such a thorough inspection had his cock perking up with interest.
“I know you,” she said, her voice polished and nearly clear of her Scottish burr. “Reuben Bates. The man who saved us from the highwaymen.”
She remembered him. That had his lust heating up another notch as he swept off his hat and performed an exquisite bow, even if he did say so himself.
“The very same,” he said. “And you are the honorable Miss Iseabail Spalding, ward of Baron Bain. You’re the granddaughter of the Earl of Spalding, and the only child of his daughter, Lady Alice.” His grin widened. “You’re also dowered with five hundred gold pieces in a chest brought from the farthest corner of the earth.”
Every word was a guess cobbled together from gossip and fairy tales. But he had a good instinct for guessing secrets, and her shocked dismay confirmed everything he’d said even as she denied it. Or part of it.
“The dowry is long gone. The contents merely rumor.”
“Oh no,” he said with a cheeky grin. “It’s real and a great deal more than a meager five hundred pounds.” After all, her clan managed a profitable market known throughout Scotland. Whether or not the dowry was there now, it would come eventually. It only needed good management.
Meanwhile she continued to argue. “That’s not possible.”
