From the uppermost story, she watched him and Nathaniel ride along the river until they entered the woods and were no longer visible. Then she found Thomas in the carriage house, lashing luggage onto the Tates’ traveling chaise.

“Where has your uncle gone, Thomas?”

For an instant he seemed surprised. Then his features crumpled.

“Loch Irvine has told you, hasn’t he?”

“No.”

“You needn’t deny you are in his confidence. I saw how the two of you were last evening, when you came into the drawing room after dinner.”

“He has told me nothing. Now you must. Your uncle hasn’t gone after Cynthia, has he? Where then did he go in such haste this morning?”

“I don’t know.”

“Thomas.”

“I tell you, I don’t know.” His hands came up around his head. “But even if I did know, it would change nothing. You care about him—Loch Irvine—don’t you? You mustn’t, Amarantha. Steal your affections back from him as swiftly as you can now. As your friend, I say protect yourself for what is to come.”

“Thomas, tell me what is happening.”

“I believe he has sent Cynthia away,” he said. “Done away with her, even.”

“Done away with her? The duke?”

“My uncle! I have reason to believe he paid that servant, the stable boy, to seduce my cousin and carry her off to God knows where to—Good Lord. She could be already—She is lost to us already,” he said harshly. “All because of my cowardice.”

“Your uncle was displeased with Cynthia for your aunt’s accident. But she is his daughter. How could he—”

“So that he can blame it on Loch Irvine! Uncle told me he might blackmail the duke.”

“Blackmail? Sacrifice his own daughter? For money?”

“I tried to dissuade him from it. But I have no weight with him. I am entirely at his mercy, Amarantha, through a mistake I made years ago.”

“What mistake?”

“I cannot tell you. I am unable to halt him now.”

“But why would he wish to blackmail the duke? Doesn’t he wish Jane to marry him?”

“Loch Irvine declined. Weeks ago, long before we all met at Haiknayes, my uncle told me that if he could not force the duke to wed Jane he would take him for everything he’s worth. I thought it was all bluster. I never imagined he would see it through. Then last night he spoke of the duke’s harem here and how he would expose it, and then I knew my uncle had lost all reason. Harem!” he exclaimed. “Why, I’ve never seen an estate run so smoothly with so few servants. If that is the result of hiring mostly women, then I say everyone should do it!”

“Your uncle intends to make these accusations without proof?”

“He has proof. Just now, when Jane and Iris were packing their belongings, they brought to me garments Cynthia had left behind.” His throat worked. “Stained in blood. Blood. I’ve no doubt my uncle put the blood on them. Even after so few days in Loch Irvine’s company I can see that the rumors about him are balderdash. He is a much finer man than Calum Tate, certainly! Can you see now what my uncle intends? If he cannot have the Loch Irvine title and lands for Jane, he will see the duke hanged, simply for defying his wishes.”

“That seems . . . extreme. To say the least.”

“Men have done far worse in pursuit of their desires.” Jonah Brock’s voice came behind her. “And the people of Edinburgh still seek justice in the mystery of the two missing girls.”

“But those girls—” She halted her words.

“Surely came to harm in some other manner?” Mr. Brock said. “Undoubtedly. Yet my cousin has done nothing to dissuade everyone from the conviction that he is at fault.”

“Do you believe he has gone searching for Cynthia, as he said?”

“Do I believe he has gone off to rescue the damsel instead of pursuing the man bent on his destruction?” A grim smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Of course he has, Mrs. Garland. My cousin is a hero. An actual hero. And heroes never think of themselves first.” The smile faded. “But you already know that.”

She did not understand his meaning, but there was no time to decipher it. Cold panic sluiced through her.

“We must do something,” she said.

Mr. Brock entered the carriage house and went to the gig.

“How much time do you require to pack, my lady?” He looked over his shoulder at her.

The panic disintegrated. Purpose filled its place.

“Thomas,” she said, “I need your help.”

“Whatever you require. I should never have given my uncle reason to come here, but I—when you asked—and Mrs. Aiken was in such obvious distress—I thought only of myself. I must now make it right. Give me instruction.”

“Be quick about your journey to Haiknayes, Thomas. I will meet you in Leith in two days. Mr. Brock, a quarter hour.”

For the first time since she had known him, his smile seemed genuine.

They halted on the journey only to change horses. The road was rough and the gig as unsuited to it as it had been a sennight earlier in the opposite direction. By the hour she stumbled from the carriage and rang the bell until Dr. Shaw’s manservant woke and opened the door, Amarantha was frozen and sore and muddled with weariness.

Moving toward the stairs, she passed the foyer table and in the candlelight caught a glimpse of her mother’s hand on the face of a letter. She took it up and went to her bed.

Exhausted from too many hours in the saddle—and pushed beyond even a patient man’s endurance by the theatricals to which he had been treated when he found Cynthia Tate and Mick huddled in an abandoned hut, theatricals that had ceased abruptly as soon as he told the pair their fate—Gabriel entered his house to find Cassandra and Pike waiting for him with news of every one of his guests’ departures and a note.

A note. From her.

Three lines on a sheet of paper folded and sealed to deter prying eyes.

Unnecessarily so. Anybody could read the message and have no idea that she was anything more to him than a casual acquaintance.

Scraping a hand over his face, he squeezed his eyes shut.

She had gone. With Jonah.

That history was refashioning itself, albeit with a cruel twist, did not especially bother him. That she trusted his blast cur of a cousin—despite all—did.

“Miss Finn!” he bellowed. “Miss Pike!”

“We are standing right behind you, Your Grace,” Pike said.

The hour was after midnight. Yet here they were, awaiting his orders in the light of a single candle.

“Is everyone well?” he said. “None the worse for the upheaval?”

“Aye,” Cassandra said somberly. “We’re all well.”

“Good. Excellent. As soon as my horse has rested, I’ll be off.”

“To Haiknayes?”

“To Edinburgh.” To deal with Tate. “Beginning at this moment, we will proceed as I informed you an’ Miss Cromwell this morning.”

She nodded.

“Go to bed now,” he said. “I’ll be out o’ your hair before you wake, as you’ve long wished,” he added with a forced grin at Pike.

He turned toward the fire.

“You are welcome to visit any time, Your Grace,” his footman said. “We might even give you the best guest bedchamber.”

A smile cracked his lips.

When he turned around, they were gone.

Amarantha slept fitfully, and upon waking had one certain plan: she must finally call on Emily’s influential friends in Edinburgh.

As she gulped down a cup of tea, she opened her mother’s letter.

Amarantha blinked away tears and went to summon a hackney coach.

The home of Constance and Saint Sterling was in the heart of Edinburgh’s New Town, austerely elegant on the outside and beautifully warm and comfortable within. Its mistress was three or four years Amarantha’s senior, tall and luxuriously gorgeous, with tumbling golden hair and eyes as vivid as the Caribbean Sea. Even a trio of thin scars across one cheek did not mar her beauty, and her gigantically distended belly made her even more striking yet. A duke’s daughter and substantial heiress, she knew everyone in high society from London to Edinburgh.

As she crossed the parlor to Amarantha without any evidence of discomfort in her ninth month of pregnancy, she extended both hands.

“Amarantha!” she said, her voice as voluptuous as her figure. “How happy I am to see you again. Why have you remained away so long? You only moved to Leith, not to the Orient!” She chuckled and drew her to a sofa. “How are Libby and the doctor? You must tell me every little detail about you these past three months.”

“Libby and Dr. Shaw are at Haiknayes.”

Constance’s golden lashes fanned. “Haiknayes Castle? Well, I suppose they have been fond friends of Haiknayes’s master. I did not know he had returned from—from wherever he had gone,” she said with a chuckle. “If they have left you entirely alone in the house, you must come stay here until their return.”

“I was at Haiknayes as well.”

“Oh, delightful! How do you like the duke? Isn’t he a great big dark wonder of a man?”

“I believe he is being blackmailed.”

“Blackmailed? Good heavens.”

“My own family is too far away, but I must try to help him. I understand that you and he parted on good terms.”

“Despite my scandalous behavior that precipitated the end of his courtship? We did. He is a forgiving man. And a man of honor.” She tilted her head. “But perhaps you are already aware of that? Amarantha, has he—”

“He is in danger. Constance, will you help me?”

Vibrant eyes subdued, she nodded.

Amarantha told her only what was needed—no more than she had told Thomas and Mr. Brock. Constance vowed her assistance, and her husband Saint’s as well, and promised to send a rider to her father at Castle Read immediately.

“In the meantime, I will send a note to the wife of the Lord Advocate this afternoon. She is always eager to come and share a good gossip. I cannot easily go out now—rather, Saint does not like me to stray too far from the house,” she said, linking her arm cozily with Amarantha’s as they walked to the door. “He imagines the moment I am out of his sight the baby will arrive. You must come stay with us until the Shaws return home. We will be able to plot more easily. It might even distract Saint from nagging me.” She smiled then squeezed Amarantha’s hand. “When you are ready, my carriage will gather you. We will foil Mr. Tate’s plan, whatever it is.”

Amarantha’s nascent hope flew away when she returned to the Shaws’ house to find Thomas on the stoop, his face drawn.

“It has already begun,” he said as rain pattered on the pavement around them. “When I arrived in town an hour ago I went directly to my uncle’s house. He had gone out, but his personal servant said he had been up half the night writing letters to the chief inspector of the police and the Caledonian Mercury.”

“We must go there now and await him.”

Hesitant admiration showed on his features. “It seems that your courage eclipses even your generosity.”

“You are wrong on both accounts,” she said as he handed her up into a hackney coach. “For I am literally shaking with fear and I am doing this entirely for myself. How did you make such excellent time here?”

“I took one of Loch Irvine’s horses and rode directly here.”

“You left your cousins alone on the journey?”

“Miss Alice and Mrs. Aiken went with my cousins, and Loch Irvine’s stable hand, Miss Byrne, rode on the box with my uncle’s coachman and a pair of pistols in her lap. My cousins were remarkably well protected!”

The Tates’ house was large and prominent on the street. Amarantha was unsurprised by the display of wealth within, from hand-painted wallpaper to gilded lamps.

In his study, Mr. Tate was pacing along the length of the room. An enormous marble-topped desk dominated the space and portraits of noble estates decorated the walls.

“Nephew! Mrs. Garland? Has the party at Kallin broken up? Ha ha! Didna know myself to be the glue that stuck the thing together,” he said with a chortle.

“You left without my cousins,” Thomas said. “Without even word to any of us.”

“True, true! I told the duke I’d business matters o’ a pressing nature to see to here.” He slapped his palms over his waistcoat. “Where are they now? Upstairs unpacking, I daresay?”

“Jane and Iris are at Haiknayes with my aunt. I came straight here to speak with you. Uncle, Cynthia ran away from Kallin the night before last.”

“Ran away? Naughty puss.”

“She eloped with the duke’s stable boy. Loch Irvine has gone searching for them, of course. I wished to search as well but I thought it best to bring Jane and Iris to my aunt, and then come inform you. We can leave for Kallin immediately if you wish.”

“Now, now,” Tate said, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat. “No need to go rushing around the countryside, lad. Troublesome lass. ’Twill serve her right to have a little upset.”

“Mr. Tate,” Amarantha said, “your daughter’s reputation will be ruined.”

“Aye.” He patted his belly. “But ’tis too late to do a thing about it now. Must do my best for my Janie instead.”

“That is why we have come here.” Thomas stepped forward. “We believe that you intend to expose the Duke of Loch Irvine to the police on invented crimes unless he agrees to marry Jane. Is this true?”

Tate’s eyes narrowed, “Why would I do such a thing, lad?”

“I don’t know. You have never seemed to me the sort of man to seek vengeance. Can you assure me then, that this is not your plan?”

“Nephew, you’re a fool.” Tate shook his head. “Did you no’ read the contract you wrote?”

“The shipping contract?” Thomas’s face paled. “Did Loch Irvine sign it? As I drafted it?”

“Aye.” Tate’s mouth slid into a slim twist.

“Oh, God.” He turned to her. “Amarantha, there is a clause in the contract that gives the partners full possession of cargo and vessels in their shared venture upon the accidental or sudden death of either. It is meant to cover contingencies that might arise before the ship reaches its destination.”

“Is that legal?” Amarantha said.

“It could be contested. But my uncle required that I include it, and I had no qualms at the time. I might have with an older man, perhaps one who indulged heavily in drink. But the duke is young and healthy. And frankly I assumed he would strike that clause from the contract.” He swung back to the merchant. “You intend to swiftly sell the proceeds and invest the money in a higher stakes venture with a quick return, don’t you? My God, Uncle, you would cause an innocent man to be hanged so that you needn’t go to debtors’ prison?”

“Debtors’ prison?” Amarantha exclaimed.

Thomas’s shoulders heaved. “We are broke, Amarantha. Tate Mercantile hasn’t a shilling in the bank.”

“No’ for long,” Mr. Tate said.

“Loch Irvine will find Cynthia and—”

“He’ll no’ find her,” Tate said with certainty. “An’ I’ve proof already to see him hanged.”

“Mr. Tate, you must not do this,” Amarantha said.

“Mustn’t I?” He seemed to study her for a lengthy moment. “What’s your interest in it, then, lass?”

“Seeing that an innocent man is not condemned.”

He lifted a single brow. “What solution do you suggest instead?”

Her heartbeats were too quick. “How much money do you require to settle your debts?”

His bushy brows rose. “’Tis a substantial sum.”

“My father will pay it.”

“Amarantha, no,” Thomas said. “Even if your father agrees to it, my uncle will never cease demanding payments. It is the damnable insurance of blackmailers.”

“True enough, lad.” Mr. Tate stroked his whiskers. “Luckily a better solution has occurred to me. Mrs. Garland, I’d be pleased to call your family mine. What say you to this handsome young man as a husband?” He gestured to his nephew.

“Uncle!” Thomas jerked forward. “What are you—I won’t! That is, Mrs. Garland is a fine person and any man would be fortunate to have her. But I will not marry simply in order to settle your debts.”

“You’ll do as I wish, nephew, or I’ll crush you. You know I can.”

“Uncle—”

“What say you, Mrs. Garland? Take my nephew to wed an’ I’ll forget all about your duke’s sins, hm?” His smile widened. “Aye, there’s a wise lass,” he said, nodding. “Experienced enough to know a fine deal when you hear it, but young enough to bend to the will o’ true love. Ha ha!” He clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Thomas, lad, your children’ll have noble blood.”

“This is madness!” Thomas said.

“No, lad. ’Tis good business. An’ this lass knows it.”

“Amarantha, you mustn’t—”

“I will do it. Thomas, are you amenable?”

“O’ course he is.” Tate chuckled. “He has no other choice.”

“Mr. Tate,” she said, “you must first give me a written statement attesting to the Duke of Loch Irvine’s innocence in the matter of your daughter’s disappearance and a promise that you will not publicly impugn his character or any person associated with him.”

“That’s impossible, Amarantha,” Thomas said.

“Not for such a clever man. As soon as you do, Mr. Tate, I will write to my father and—”

“Ha ha, lass. Do you mistake me for a neophyte? You’ll no’ escape our deal so easily.”

“I have no intention of escaping. But my father must see to publishing the banns before Thomas and I can wed.”

“No’ in Scotland. You’ll be at the altar beside my nephew tomorrow morning or our bargain’s off.”

“Furnish me with your assurance by the end of today, Mr. Tate, and I will see you in the morning at church.” She extended her hand. Mr. Tate shook it.