The measly hour with Janet didn’t last long. When she and Robert arrived at the town house, Lady MacLean hastened outside, giving him dagger eyes as if he were a barbarian about to throw the lass over his shoulder and carry her off to his Viking ship. Obviously he wasn’t invited in for refreshment. Downtrodden, he headed for the alehouse. Why the devil did he insist on pursuing a woman he couldn’t have? Before arriving in Glasgow, he’d nearly stopped thinking of Janet every other minute of the day. For the love of God, he was a masochist. If he was serious about courtship, all he need do was stroll up Salt Market Street. Affluent young heiresses idled their time away shopping while their fathers conducted business.
I am not in the market for a bloody wife.
He would do his duty and show his support for the cause at the ball and head for home. There was work to do, yearlings to fatten for the autumn sales. He hadn’t seen Emma in four months. Robert grew more irritated with every step until he was met by Lewis at the door to the alehouse. Judging by the look on his face, the man had news. “What is it?”
“I found where Cummins has been, but not where he is now.”
“Bloody hell, I want the bastard. He was in my grasp only three days past. How hard can it be to locate a man with a peg leg?” Robert signaled for two ales, then slid into the chair at the table with his men. “Tell me your news.”
“After his surgery, Cummins was sent here to the soldiers’ hospital for convalescence.”
Robert’s jaw twitched—the very place where Janet spent her afternoons. “How long was he there?”
“Well, once he recovered, they kept him on as a records keeper.”
“God’s blood, why didn’t you say so before I sat?” Robert shoved to his feet, pointing his finger northward. “Miss Janet is reading to those soldiers every single day.”
Lewis spread his hands to his sides. “What does that have to do with the lieutenant?”
“A great deal. She’s been receiving disfigured white dog roses—and I think I ken the culprit.”
Shoving his chair back, Lewis groaned. “But Cummins hasn’t shown up for work in the past three days. He’s not there.”
“Are you positive?”
“I’ve just returned from the hospital. The orderlies said they haven’t seen Cummins—I reckon not since you drove him away from the saleyards.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Robert grabbed his feathered bonnet and headed for the door.
“Where are you off to now?” asked Lewis.
“To do some sleuthing of my own.”
Rather than head for the public stables, Robert hastened up the road and took a right on Gallowgate. The soldiers’ hospital wasn’t more than a mile west, an easy walk.
A brass placard on the wrought iron gate informed him that he’d arrived at the hospital. Standing in the shadows of a giant sycamore, he scanned the hedge-lined grounds. A coach waited in the drive. Six steps led to the arched entrance of the sandstone building—which, at two stories, looked as if it could have been a country residence at one time.
Unfortunately, Mr. Ellis was nowhere to be seen. Nonetheless, chances were the coach belonged to Sir Broden MacLean and was waiting for Janet.
Robert skirted the hedge to the rear of the property and slipped through a back door leading to a narrow corridor. To the right he heard the familiar sounds of a bustling kitchen. He pulled on his cuffs and affected an air of importance while he strode with purpose until he found a woman folding linens. “Good afternoon, could you please point me in the direction of the records office?”
She gave him a curt once-over. “Lost, are ye?”
He feigned a wee bit of discomfiture. “I’m afraid I am.”
She pointed. “Well, you’re not far off course. Two doors down on the right.”
“My thanks,” he said with a bow.
Just as the matron had said, Robert found the office. He turned the knob and peeked inside. The place was a shambles—parchment everywhere, half-opened drawers, ink blotches on the writing table, no fewer than five quills lying askew, and not a one in the holder.
“May I help you?” asked an elderly officer, hastening through the door.
“Can you tell me where I might find Lieutenant Cummins, sir?”
“Seems everyone is looking for that fellow, including me.” He held out his hand. “I’m the officer in charge here. Captain Wainwright at your service.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Grant here.” Robert shook the man’s hand.
“What is the nature of your affiliation with Lieutenant Cummins?”
“I have reason to believe he was involved in the theft of some of my cattle a year past. My investigations have led me here.”
“Cummins? A year ago, you say?” Wainwright tapped a finger to his lips while his graying, bramble-inspired eyebrows drew together.
“Aye.”
“That’s preposterous. Winfred had not yet lost his leg a year past.”
“You are correct. I saw him myself in Inverlochy the week of Samhain, directly before the incident that claimed his limb.”
“Well then, your thief couldn’t be he. The lieutenant was still in uniform.”
“He may have been, but I have a witness who has positively identified him as the culprit behind not only my missing cattle, but the missing beasts of several other clans who graze their herds in the mountains in summer.”
“This is most disturbing. I cannot believe Lieutenant Cummins would do such a thing—not a lieutenant in the queen’s dragoons.”
“Well, if you should see him, please send me word at the Caledonia Alehouse on Bridgegate. I’m Grant. Laird Robert Grant. I expect to be there for at least another sennight.”
“I most certainly will.” The captain tapped Robert’s elbow. “Please allow me to see you out.”
Stepping away, Robert shifted his arm aside. “I understand a dear friend of the family is reading to the fallen. Would you please direct me to where I can find Miss Cameron?”
“Ah, yes. She’s upstairs. Last door on the west side.”
Robert bowed. “Thank you, sir.”
Before reaching the top of the stairs, he peered down the corridor. Blast it all, Mr. Ellis was lurking outside the damned door. Doubling back, he found the matron who had been folding the linens. “If I were to ask very nicely and offer you a crown, would you do me a favor?”
“What kind of favor?”
For the second time, he feigned a wee bit of embarrassment. “Och, you see, there is a wee lassie above stairs with whom I would dearly love to have a word—a wee word, mind you…Mayhap ply her hand with a kiss as well. But she has a hulking henchman following her about, and I cannot reveal my heart with him hovering behind the scenes.”
She grinned. “Aye, so that is why you slipped in through the rear door? You want to make Miss Cameron swoon?”
“Mayhap a winsome sigh would do quite well.” He gave the lass a wink for added benefit. “Will you help me? Tell the old lurker the coachman needs his assistance for a moment.”
She held out her palm. “For a crown?”
He dug in his sporran and dropped a coin in her palm. “My thanks.”
“’Tis I who should be thanking you.” She slipped the crown into a pouch tied around her waist. “This coin will buy shoes for my bairns.”
“A very good cause indeed.” Robert waited in a window embrasure midway down the corridor while the maid told Mr. Ellis he was needed in the courtyard, bless her.
Once Ellis headed down the stairs, Robert stepped into the chamber. “Miss Janet, I need a word at once.”
“Mr. Grant? Whyever are you here?”
“Never mind that, please. I haven’t much time.”
She closed her book and gave a nod. Hastening to take her elbow, he led her into a storage cupboard and closed the door.
“What is—”
“Wheesht.” He held up his finger. Good God, she smelled sweeter than a vat of simmering lavender. His head spun, but now he had her alone, he needed to impart his findings before the bloody knave returned. “Did you ken Winfred Cummins has been working here at the soldiers’ hospital all along?”
“Here?”
“Aye. How long has that mongrel been following you?”
“He’s been following me?”
“I reckon so—and I also reckon he’s behind your ruined white roses.”
“My heavens.” She covered her mouth, her eyes filling with shock. “I remember now. I even asked Kennan if he’d seen Lieutenant Cummins at the recital.”
“Where you received the second rose?”
“Aye—I thought I saw him hobbling away during intermission—and then I found the rose on my seat directly after.”
“’Twas he. Make no bones about it.”
“Have you confronted him?”
“Nay. He’s not here—hasn’t shown his face since the sale.” Robert grasped her shoulders. “You must be vigilant. I do not want you to venture outside without an escort—your brother or Mr. Ellis or…”
“Or you?” she asked, her gaze meeting his.
Robert’s heart stuttered out of rhythm. “A-aye…and I must have a word with your uncle straightaway.”
“But Sir Broden mightn’t agree to see you.” Her hands moved to Robert’s waist as she stepped nearer.
He licked his lips, fighting the desire to pull her into his arms. “He’ll see me, all right,” Robert growled. “And I’ll make damned sure he does.”
Footsteps pounded in the corridor. “Miss Janet!” Mr. Ellis’s muffled shout rumbled through the timbers.
The lass started to draw away, her mouth opening, her head turning as if she were about to give away their hiding place. But Robert wasn’t ready for this moment to end. Giving in to his yearning, he drew her into his embrace and covered her mouth, stealing a kiss. His hand slid up her back, slipped over the softness of her throat, and cupped the silken warmth of her cheeks. His knees turned molten as he dared to thread his fingers into her hair—
“Miss Janet?” The man’s voice grew nearer and more frenzied.
With Robert’s next breath, the lass pulled away and turned. “I’m here.” She slipped out the door, leaving him alone.
“Why the devil were you in there?” Ellis brayed.
“I needed a moment of respite,” she replied in the smoothest tone Robert had ever heard. “That poor sentinel is facing such hardship.”
The silence filling the corridor stilled the air. Robert dared not breathe—frozen in place—not a finger twitched.
“I see,” Ellis finally said. “Where is your hat, Miss Janet?”
Robert glanced downward. Damnation, he held her blasted feathery bonnet between his fingers.
“Heavens, it must have fallen off,” Janet said, her voice filled with wonderment.
The latch clicked. Robert stood out of sight behind the door. When Janet stepped inside, the backlighting emphasized the mess he’d made of her hair, with tendrils spiking in every direction. The lass looked as if she’d been ravished for certain. Robert held the hat up where only she could see.
“Here it is. How daft of me!” She snatched it away and slammed the door. “Shall we be off?”
* * *
The next morn, Janet sat in the drawing room with Uncle Broden, which had become their custom for the morning meal. Auntie Dallis never came below stairs before ten o’clock and always broke her fast in her chamber as she dressed for the day. Quiet morns were welcome, and Janet ate her porridge while her uncle read the gazette, oblivious to her presence.
Lionel, the butler, stepped into the chamber. “You have a caller, sir.”
“’Tis a bit early.” Sir Broden lowered his paper. “Who is it?”
“Laird Grant.”
Janet coughed, spewing her oatmeal back into her bowl. Taking in a gasp, she hastened to cover her mouth while erupting in a cacophony.
“Are you all right, dear?”
Unable to stop coughing, Janet nodded and waved her hand.
Sir Broden looked to Lionel. “What the devil does His Lairdship want? Wasn’t he here just a few days past?”
“He didn’t say, sir. And aye, he took Miss Janet out to exercise her new hackney in Laigh Green.”
Sir Broden heaved a sigh. “Have him leave his weapons with you and show him to the parlor. I’ll be along after I’ve read my gazette.” Once again Uncle disappeared behind his paper. “Fie, I believe it is time for Glasgow to stop growing, lest we see more vile characters knocking on my door at an indecent hour.”
Janet glanced at the pocket watch attached to her chatelaine. Quarter past nine. “’Tisn’t all that early.”
He lowered the paper a fraction and gave her a dour look. “If I say it is too early, then it is so.”
“Of course.” Janet busied herself spooning another bite of porridge. Should she tell Sir Broden about Robert’s suspicion of Lieutenant Cummins? She’d thought about it last eve, but then Auntie Dallis might have made a scene. She’d already made her disapproval quite clear where Laird Grant was concerned. Cursed clan feuds.
Janet lifted the spoon to her lips but couldn’t eat. She glanced at her uncle, still reading the gazette. For the love of God, the thing is two measly pages. I could have read it twice by now.
When he finally set the blasted paper aside, Janet’s gaze darted to her bowl.
“You’d best go above stairs and check on Her Ladyship. Doubtless she’ll have your day completely planned by now.”
“I will after I finish breaking my fast.” Janet’s reply didn’t say anything about when that would be or the detours she might take along the way.
As soon as he left the drawing room, she sprang to her feet and followed on tiptoe. Down the corridor, the double doors to the parlor were closed. If only they had left them slightly ajar, it would have been far easier to eavesdrop.
“It is bold of you to come to my home.” Uncle’s muffled voice resonated through the timbers. “Have you forgotten the MacLeans are staunch allies of the Camerons? My sister, God rest her soul, was Sir Ewen’s first wife.”
Janet moved closer, pressing her ear to the door.
“I understand I may not be exactly welcome—”
“That is an understatement.”
“Nonetheless, I must inform you that I have spent the greater part of a year investigating the theft of my cattle—”
“Your cattle again, is it? Aye, we’ve all heard about how you accused Lochiel and Kennan of thievery.”
“I admit I may have jumped to conclusions, but in my defense—”
“Of course you misjudged us. Clan Grant always—”
“I beg your pardon, Sir Broden.” Robert’s voice boomed loudly enough to shake the door. “But if you continue to interrupt me, I will never say what needs to be said, and the matter is of grave import.”
Uncle cleared his throat while Janet stifled a snort. She could picture the dour man staring at Robert with a pinched brow. “Go on.”
At least he hasn’t shown him the door.
“I have not ignored the fact that the Camerons suffered losses last season as well, and I believe I have found the culprit who robbed us both.” Uncle remained silent while Robert told him about Winfred Cummins, starting with Samhain, including meeting and hiring Leith Whyte, how the lieutenant lost his leg and ended up working at the hospital, the white rose incidents, and the incident at the saleyard, and finishing up with the fact that the lieutenant was at large.
She clapped a hand over her heart. She’d die if he mentioned any number of things from Glenmoriston—the parlor, the bedchamber. Lord help me.
She jolted when the front door opened, and in walked Kennan. Stepping away from the parlor, Janet clasped her hands behind her back. “Kennan. I didn’t know you were returning this day.”
“Kennan, is that you?” Of course, Auntie Dallis chose that very moment to venture below stairs.
“It is.” He offered his hand and helped his aunt waddle down the last few steps.
With perspiration on her brow, she looked very annoyed, as if on the verge of a spell. “Lionel just advised that Mr. Robert Grant is in the parlor with your uncle.”
“What the devil?” Anger stretched Kennan’s handsome features. “Why did you not say something as soon as I walked in?” He reached for the parlor’s doorknob.
“Stop!” Janet grasped his elbow. “He has uncovered the mystery of the missing cattle.”
“Mystery, my arse.” Kennan flung the door wide and marched inside. “Laird Grant, you are trespassing, and I must ask you to leave at once.”
Robert stood and whipped around, his fingers sliding to his dirk but grasping air.
Lionel took his weapons.
“Listen to what he has to say afore you haul off and accuse him,” Janet yelled, rushing between the two men before they came to blows. “I swear on our mother’s grave, I ken how feuds are started. ’Tis on account of bull-brained men jumping to conclusions afore they hear the whole story!”
Kennan threw out his hands. “Damnation, I’m beginning to think you’re taking his side.”
“Aye, dearest, the way you are carrying on is simply not ladylike,” Auntie scolded from the doorway.
Groaning, Janet chose to ignore Her Ladyship and focused on her brother. “And I’m beginning to think that when it comes to this man, you behave like a complete and total Whig!” She thrust her fingers at the two opposing chairs. “Now both of you sit down while I relate the story once again.”
Robert immediately took a seat, while Kennan waited for a nod from Uncle Broden before he sauntered to his chair. The two men crossed their arms as well as their legs and gave each other dead-eyed stares while Janet did her best to sum up recent events, much as Robert had just done.
Once she finished, Kennan tipped up his chin. “So, you are no longer blaming Camerons for your livestock losses?”
Janet held her breath while Robert unfolded his arms. “As much as I’d like to believe in your guilt, Miss Janet has spoken true.”
Kennan snorted. “I never thought I’d hear such an admission come from a Grant’s mouth.”
“I would not grow accustomed to it,” Robert said, straight faced. “And there is still the issue of the white roses. After all that has transpired, I fear your sister is in grave danger.”
“Well then, ’tis a good thing I returned early from Edinburgh. You needn’t worry about Miss Janet. I will see to her safety. I always do.”
Robert eyed him. “Aye, just like you did at the Inverlochy crossing.”
“There were six of them, ye bloody maggot—or would you prefer another duel?”
“Kennan!” Janet chided.
Robert placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward. “I’m ready to face you again at any time. But only if you agree to be searched. I’ll tolerate no concealed weapons, and you’ve proved you cannot be trusted.”
Kennan sat back and smirked. “I reckon I did you a favor. My wee bit of work makes your bonny face actually look like a man’s.”
“You’re full of shite.” Robert pushed to his feet but bowed his head to Janet. “Beg your pardon, miss.”
“My brother doesn’t behave so poorly unless you are about. I thank heavens he’s otherwise a good man, though you haven’t enjoyed the pleasure of observing his good-naturedness.”
“Enough,” Kennan barked.
Robert turned to Uncle Broden, who had taken a seat behind the writing table. “It is not safe for Miss Janet to venture out alone. If anyone sees or hears of Cummins’s whereabouts, I want to hear about it straightaway.” Again he bowed. “Thank you for your time. I shall take my leave.”
Janet hastened to accompany Robert to the door. “Will you be attending the Duke of Gordon’s ball?” she whispered.
Resting his hand on the latch, he stopped and faced her. “I will.” He winked, taking her hand, and plied it with a brief peck. “I trust you will save a dance for me?”
“Most certainly. And thank you for your concern.” Sighing, Janet clutched her hands over her heart as she watched him leave.
“I’d like you to stay away from him at the ball,” Kennan said, leaning against the doorjamb.
Auntie Dallis nodded rapidly. “Aye, and there will be so many eligible gentlemen there. You mustn’t give Grant a second thought.”
Kennan draped an arm around Janet’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze—a loving squeeze, albeit untimely. “Are you worried about the dragoon?”
“Concerned, aye.”
“Do not be. Cummins is no longer a threat, though I cannot say the same for the Grant laird.” Kennan kissed her forehead. “And I’m not certain I like the way he looks at you.”
Janet pushed her brother away. “I must fetch my bonnet. Auntie and I are off to the cobbler.” Tenser than the head of a snare drum, she clenched her fists and started up the stairs but stopped before the landing.
Enough is enough.
Unable to allow her brother’s remark to pass, she grasped the banister and faced him. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Grant has behaved with nothing but kindness toward me, and, moreover, I happen to like him.” Not waiting for any of her opinionated kin to provide a retort, she dashed for her chamber.