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Authors: Cynthia Breeding
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I couldnae fight three ruffians.”
A thought niggled at Shane. Just two days before David was attacked, the Frenchman had approached Albert looking for work. Could it be connected somehow? “Did any of them have an accent? Maybe French?”
“Nae. They were Scots.”
Who could have been hired. “Were ye at the office the day the Frenchman stopped by looking for work?”
“Aye.” David gave him a puzzled look. “Why do ye ask?”
“Just wondering. Did he say why he was in Scotland?”
“He said he’d left France because the king’s men were hunting Napoleon’s supporters.”
That made some sense. The White Terror, as the Verdet avengers of the Restoration called their movement, was one of the reasons Shane had met with Remy and Alain while he was in Calais. “Did he sound desperate for work?” Desperate enough to arrange to have David beaten?
“Nae more than most. He said he’d left inquiries along the quay.”
“Did Albert say what he thought about him?” Shane had always trusted the older man’s instincts.
“Aye. He said it was too bad we dinna need another person since the Frenchman had worked at the port of Le Havre and had experience with accounts as well.”
David’s mother entered the room, a worried look on her face. “The doctor told him nae to strain himself,” she said quietly, wringing her hands in her apron.
“Of course.” Shane stood to leave and took some bank notes out of his pocket. “This should help cover expenses.”
Her eyes lingered on the offer. “We should nae accept charity.”
“’Tis nae charity,” Shane said and put the money in her hand. “Just something to help until David can return to work.”
The woman’s eyes lit. “Thank ye kindly then.”
As Shane took his leave, he decided to walk back to the townhouse rather than rent a hack. It gave him the opportunity to examine King’s Close, although he hardly expected to find any evidence of what had taken place. Something about the attack didn’t make sense. Cut-throats would have finished the job and left David dead. To rob a man of coin, especially when the odds were three to one, didn’t merit such a thorough beating and breaking of bones.
Had David been in the wrong place or had he been specifically targeted? It was oddly coincidental that someone highly qualified came looking for work just two days before David’s attack. Albert had been impressed, though, and the Frenchman had supposedly made other applications well. That could be checked out. When Shane sailed to Calais with the kelp, he could ask Remy or Alain to send a man down to Le Havre and see what information could be ferreted out.
Meanwhile, it was just one more reason Shane had to leave Abigail in Glenfinnan where she would be safe while he was gone. He pushed aside a twinge of guilt over how enthusiastic she had been on seeing his library and how eager she’d sounded in wanting to spend time there with him. Truthfully, he suspected her mind was as inquisitive for knowledge and history as his. It had been a long time since he’d had any philosophical discussions with anyone—but that path was dangerous, since he also felt a surprisingly strong physical attraction to the lass as well.
Better that she be where she would not tempt him. Surely he was doing the right thing by leaving her with his cousins. Wasn’t he?
Ian had a library full of books. She could read to her heart’s content. Somehow, Shane sensed Abigail would not be appeased.
She would be fine in time though. He was doing the right thing, leaving her where she would be protected. And once he was gone, what could Abigail do about it?
Chapter Seven
“I could not have asked for a better introduction to Scotland,” Abigail exclaimed as they prepared to board the sailing vessel for the passage over Loch Linnhe, which would bring them close to Ian’s estate. They’d been accompanied by bodyguards—Abigail could not think of them as merely employees since they were
A thought niggled at Shane. Just two days before David was attacked, the Frenchman had approached Albert looking for work. Could it be connected somehow? “Did any of them have an accent? Maybe French?”
“Nae. They were Scots.”
Who could have been hired. “Were ye at the office the day the Frenchman stopped by looking for work?”
“Aye.” David gave him a puzzled look. “Why do ye ask?”
“Just wondering. Did he say why he was in Scotland?”
“He said he’d left France because the king’s men were hunting Napoleon’s supporters.”
That made some sense. The White Terror, as the Verdet avengers of the Restoration called their movement, was one of the reasons Shane had met with Remy and Alain while he was in Calais. “Did he sound desperate for work?” Desperate enough to arrange to have David beaten?
“Nae more than most. He said he’d left inquiries along the quay.”
“Did Albert say what he thought about him?” Shane had always trusted the older man’s instincts.
“Aye. He said it was too bad we dinna need another person since the Frenchman had worked at the port of Le Havre and had experience with accounts as well.”
David’s mother entered the room, a worried look on her face. “The doctor told him nae to strain himself,” she said quietly, wringing her hands in her apron.
“Of course.” Shane stood to leave and took some bank notes out of his pocket. “This should help cover expenses.”
Her eyes lingered on the offer. “We should nae accept charity.”
“’Tis nae charity,” Shane said and put the money in her hand. “Just something to help until David can return to work.”
The woman’s eyes lit. “Thank ye kindly then.”
As Shane took his leave, he decided to walk back to the townhouse rather than rent a hack. It gave him the opportunity to examine King’s Close, although he hardly expected to find any evidence of what had taken place. Something about the attack didn’t make sense. Cut-throats would have finished the job and left David dead. To rob a man of coin, especially when the odds were three to one, didn’t merit such a thorough beating and breaking of bones.
Had David been in the wrong place or had he been specifically targeted? It was oddly coincidental that someone highly qualified came looking for work just two days before David’s attack. Albert had been impressed, though, and the Frenchman had supposedly made other applications well. That could be checked out. When Shane sailed to Calais with the kelp, he could ask Remy or Alain to send a man down to Le Havre and see what information could be ferreted out.
Meanwhile, it was just one more reason Shane had to leave Abigail in Glenfinnan where she would be safe while he was gone. He pushed aside a twinge of guilt over how enthusiastic she had been on seeing his library and how eager she’d sounded in wanting to spend time there with him. Truthfully, he suspected her mind was as inquisitive for knowledge and history as his. It had been a long time since he’d had any philosophical discussions with anyone—but that path was dangerous, since he also felt a surprisingly strong physical attraction to the lass as well.
Better that she be where she would not tempt him. Surely he was doing the right thing by leaving her with his cousins. Wasn’t he?
Ian had a library full of books. She could read to her heart’s content. Somehow, Shane sensed Abigail would not be appeased.
She would be fine in time though. He was doing the right thing, leaving her where she would be protected. And once he was gone, what could Abigail do about it?
Chapter Seven
“I could not have asked for a better introduction to Scotland,” Abigail exclaimed as they prepared to board the sailing vessel for the passage over Loch Linnhe, which would bring them close to Ian’s estate. They’d been accompanied by bodyguards—Abigail could not think of them as merely employees since they were
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