“May I help you, sir?”
“Lord Rossbury to see Mr. Abercrombie. I’m afraid he’s not expecting me, but this won’t take long.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Abercrombie isn’t in until later in the day. My name is Cairns. Is there something I could help you with, my lord?”
“When I spoke to him three days ago, he promised to send a surveyor north to assess a house I’ve inherited.”
“Let me have a look. Won’t take more than a moment.” The young man gestured toward a row of sturdy chairs lined up against a wall and didn’t wait for any response from James before leaving his desk and entering another room.
James couldn’t bring himself to sit, so he paced, but that did nothing to calm his nerves either. He could taste Lucy on his lips, still feel the warmth and softness of her body pressed against his. He wanted to get back to her. Blessedly, the young man returned only a few minutes later with a single half sheet of paper held out to James.
Mr. Dougray Dicksonwere the only words written on the paper.
“The surveyor, my lord. According to Mr. Abercrombie’s notes, he contacted the man two days ago, and he was set to arrive today.”
Bloody wonderful. “Thank you, Mr. Cairns.”
James was already halfway across the threshold when he heard the young man wish him a good day.
It had been. A perfect day up to a moment ago, but now it seemed fated to go to hell.
Lady Cassandra would already be frantic to learn that her visiting niece had gone off with the man who planned to turn her world upside down, but he suspected she’d be fuming to find a surveyor there inspecting the manor as if it was a commodity rather than her home.
As he made his way back up the street toward the tearoom, he noted that blue-gray clouds blanketed the sky, hiding the sun that had warmed them during their walk around Edinburgh. It made the hour seem much later than it was, but he ducked toward a shop window and pulled out his pocket watch to double-check.
He’d lost track of everything but Lucy during that kiss on the hill.
That’s when he sensed the figure in his periphery turn swiftly, a gray coat swinging as the man stared into a shop window as if something had caught his eye. There were dozens of window-shoppers up and down the busy thoroughfare, but something about the man looked familiar. He’d seen that dove-gray greatcoat earlier in the day. Though it wasn’t an uncommon shade for a garment.
James continued on, walking slower now, and turned his head to note whether the man followed.
Heartbeat speeding, he forced himself to maintain his steady pace. He spied a narrow alleyway between buildings ahead, just one building down from the tearoom. Veering to the opposite side of the pavement, he ducked into the narrow space. Hardly an alley, a throughway more like, too narrow for vehicles, barely wide enough to contain the span of his shoulders.
But he turned around, his arms brushing the bricks on either side, and waited.
People passed but not the gray-coated man.
James approached the mouth of the passageway, one step away from joining the stream of foot traffic on the pavement again, and scanned the far side of the street.
He saw no one, but a shiver down his back told him he was being watched. The man’s gaze was a heavy, menacing weight.
James turned and spotted the man near a storefront, on his side of the street now, just a few paces away. And worse, he recognized him—or thought he did—as one of Beck’s thugs.
Would he send a watcher this far? And how did the man know he’d been in the city today of all days?
He couldn’t take a chance of embroiling Lucy in anything to do with Beck.
Turning again, he made his way down the narrow passageway, hoping it would spill out into a proper alley. Then he might find a rear entrance to the tearoom where Lucy waited.
Only a few steps, and another’s footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him.
James didn’t want a confrontation. He required no reminder of what was owed, or of Beck’s impatience for his long overdue repayment.
It troubled him every single day.
When the pace of the footsteps quickened, he spun to face the man.
“What do you want?”
