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He clasped Broden’s hand in a hearty handshake.

“What’s this about Narcissa possibly being behind my shootin’?” Broden features went granite-hard as he absently touched his shoulder. “Now that I think on it, she did mention I’d been shot. I didna tell her that.”

She knew because she’d hired the killer.

At least all signs pointed in that direction.

Kendra heaved an unsteady sigh. “Camden trailed Edwin McGregor to Scotland. McGregor was tryin’ to find ye. Someone also made an attempt on his life. He, however, saw and recognized his assailant.”

Broden went perfectly still, a warrior’s practiced scowl darkening his features. “Och? Who?”

“Oswald,” Liam and Kendra said simultaneously.

Kendra continued. “Naturally, as I’d never met Oswald, I didna realize he was the man who’d shot ye. However, after a discussion with Mr. McGregor, it became very clear to me that Oswald was your shooter, too. The description of the man matched Oswald’s perfectly.”

Broden swiped a hand through his soft hair, lines of tension creasing the granite planes of his face. She so wanted to kiss away his concern and agitation. Make him forget, just for a time, that someone wanted him dead.

“Oswald? But why? It disna make sense.” Three deep grooves puckering his forehead, he paced to the window and then back. “How do ye ken Edwin McGregor is tellin’ the truth?”

“The man was scared spitless. He remained in hidin’ for a month afterward, and then it occurred to him that if Oswald had tried to kill him, mightn’t he also try to eliminate ye?” Liam exchanged a guarded glance with Kendra. “He darkened his hair and traveled under an assumed name, pretendin’ to be a reverend. He’s no’ exactly the courageous sort. He claims he sought ye out hopin’ ye could catch Oswald.”

“Where is he now?” Concern shadowed Broden’s face, even as a calculating gleam shone in his eyes.

“He’s bein’ held at Kennedy’s keep. Until we could verify his tale, it seemed wisest no’ to let him blunder about.” An ironic smile quirked Kendra’s mouth. “I still had my doubts about him until he eagerly agreed to the confinement. He’s good and truly terrified.”

Broden paced back across the study’s plush, Turkish carpet, his hands clasped behind his back. “It disna make sense. How does Oswald benefit from mine or Edwin’s deaths?”

Liam, now resting a shoulder against the fireplace mantel, raised his gaze from studying the flames.

Kendra touched her chin, thoughtfully. “Mayhap the question isna how does Oswald benefit or who benefits the most if the heirs are dead, but who has the most to lose if they’re alive?”

Broden halted and brought his attention overhead to the ornate plasterwork ceiling. “Narcissa?”

“Aye.” Kendra firmed her mouth. “We think Oswald is nearby, and we think he’s workin’ in conjunction with the countess.” She cut Liam a swift look, days of worry catching up to her and sending dread throttling through her every pore. “In truth, Camden is the one who speculates that’s the situation. ’Tis a bit disconcertin’ just how calculatin’ his mind is.”

Broden tugged his earlobe. “I think a candid discussion with the countess is in order, straightaway. With witnesses. That woman can tie knots in a man with her fishwife’s tongue.”

Kendra would rather not endure the horrid woman’s presence for a minute more, but Broden was correct.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” Broden bade.

Morris entered, pushing a tea cart. His stoic gaze circled the room, a question in his eyes. “Your refreshments as requested, my lord.”

He silently asked where the others were.

Kendra’s stomach growled, and she placed her hand over her hollow tummy. None of them had eaten since yesterday afternoon, except for oatcakes while they rode. Bone weary, she wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath and climb between clean sheets.

Preferably, with Broden.

She indulged in a wicked half-smile.

He’d awoken desire in her, and she was eager to have her passion stoked into a wildfire.

However, such comforts and fantasies would have to wait.

Uncovering the countess’s involvement was paramount to Broden’s safety. Perhaps she knew where Oswald was at this moment, too. He might’ve even followed them to Sommerley Parke House, and he was undoubtedly desperate to cover his tracks after two failed murder attempts.