Chapter Twelve

After the constable took Mr. Russell away, Abigail left with Reade and Mr. Westland, headed for Lady Elana’s home, the Honors of Scotland on the seat beside Mr. Westland. The heat that radiated off Reade distracted her, but was preferable to looking into his eyes as she did Mr. Westland’s, for all she could think about was the words “Abigail, when we are married, there will be no more of these missions. Are we clear?” ringing in her head. She knew what he meant, but… Why had he said when we are married?

“I am sorry that I could not tell you The Raven had sent me in case you encountered any difficulties.” Mr. Westland’s words pulled her back to the conversation.

She easily discerned his expression in the well-lit coach. He wasn’t the least bit sorry. Why would he be? He was under orders and loved his work. She shouldn’t be surprised The Raven had assigned another operative as backup, but she was. She had completely underestimated the importance of this mission. Not only had she not believed Mr. Russell was the thief, she hadn’t suspected that Mr. Westland was also a spy.

“I don’t understand,” Reade muttered.

“I had orders,” Mr. Westland said simply.

Reade released a breath, but nodded. “I’m just glad this mess is over.”

Mr. Westland smiled. “The worst is over, at any rate.”

“What does that mean?” Reade demanded.

“It means we have yet to debrief with Lady Elana,” Abigail said.

The clock struck four in the morning when Lady Elana herself opened the door to her home. He eyes fixed on the sword Mr. Westland carried, but she said nothing as she ushered them into the kitchen where Sir Stirling rose from the kitchen table as they entered.

“I never thought I would have the honor of seeing the Scottish crown jewels,” she said.

Sir Stirling remained quiet, but Abigail read the same awe on his face as Lady Elana examined the sword, scepter and crown. Once they rewrapped the scepter and crown, they set the regalia on the large work table in the middle of the room, and went to the table where tea sat waiting. Elana and Sir Stirling James sat across from her and Lord Reade sat to her left with Mr. Westland to her right. Lady Elana filled their cups while listening to the story of how they’d found the Honors.

 “How clever of you to have discovered the false back of Mr. Russell’s wardrobe,” Elana said. “I would have searched for a treasure room or secret rooms.”

Abigail met her gaze. “Not half as clever as you installing Mr. Westland as another operative in the mission.”

Elana’s expression sobered. “I was not at all certain Mr. Russell was our thief, but with that much money at stake, I knew our thief would be willing to do anything to avoid capture. I have faith in you, Abigail—and that faith was rewarded today—but I would never leave you without someone to help, if help was necessary.”

“I had Lord Reade,” she said softly.

The Raven’s eyes sparkled as she smiled at Reade. “Indeed.  How I wish I had seen you fight the thief with the Sword of State. That must have been a sight to behold. I do not think anyone has ever used the sword to fight.”

“It was a singular honor,” he said. “But it wouldn’t have been possible if Lady Buchman hadn’t found the Honors.”

“You outdid yourself this time, Abigail,” Elana said. “I still cannot believe it. Little more than a day and you exposed the criminal.” She smiled. “Did I not tell you, Stirling, that they would make a wonderful team?”

“I never doubted you for a moment,” he said.

Abigail caught the tiny glance Elana sent Sir Stirling’s way. What was that all about?

“Perhaps you retired too soon, Lady Buchman?” Sir Stirling said. “Our king needs people like you in His service.”

“Forgive me, Sir Stirling,” Lord Reade said before she would reply, “but Lady Buchman is retired.”

Sir Stirling’s brows rose. “She was retired, aye. But this recent mission has proven how much she has to give.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Lord Reade said.

Abigail’s heart pounded.

“However,” Reade gave Stirling a cool smile, “I have asked Lady Buchman to marry me.”

Surprise flickered across Sir Stirling’s face, then vanished.

“How wonderful,” Elana cried. “Abigail, you didn’t say a word.”

“Wait a moment.” Abigail kept her gaze on Lady Elana. “I do not believe Lord Reade has asked me to marry him.”

“She is right.” Reade stood, and her stomach did a somersault when he grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. Abigail stood face to face with him. “I have no money to speak of,” he said, then paused. “My brother is in trouble. Creditors…he made the mistake of gambling. But I cannot allow him and his family to lose their home. Once I have paid off his debts, we can marry. I cannot promise exactly when—”

“How much?” she said.

He frowned. “What?”

“How much does your brother owe?”

Understanding appeared in his gaze. “Abigail, I will not allow—”

“You will not allow your brother and his family to lose their home. How much?”

He released a breath and held her gaze. “Twenty thousand pounds.”

“I assume his properties generate revenue?” she said.

“Of course, but—”

“My father set aside fifteen thousand pounds for my dowry. My first husband received the money but, upon his death, I got it back. It is only fair that my second husband receive the same. I will advance the other five thousand pounds. That is, if my future husband does not consider my money his to do with as he pleases.”

“Abigail—”

“Does he?” she interrupted.

Reade kept his gaze locked with hers. “Nae.”

“Then it is settled.”

He grasped her hand. “But why?”

Abigail stared up at him. “For you to work so hard for your family, I assume they are good people.”

“Very good,” he replied.

She shrugged. “It is better to have good family to help than to have no family at all.” She arched a brow. “But you must promise to give up cards. I will not live in fear that my second husband will get shot in a gambling hell.” 

“That is an easy promise,” he said. “I despise playing.”

She frowned. “But you are such a skilled player.”

“Strange, isn’t it?”

A nervous flutter of her stomach preceded her next and final demand. “I can live with marrying a scoundrel, but I must insist that you give up your rakish ways.”

Surprise shone in his eyes. “Abigail, haven’t you realized I’m no real scoundrel.” He stepped closer. “At least with no one but you.”

She blinked, then understanding dawned. She shifted her gaze to The Raven. “Well done, madam.”

Lady Elana laughed. “You can thank The Marriage Maker.”

“The—” Abigail snapped her gaze onto Sir Stirling. “You, sir?”

He smiled and nodded.

Reade’s low laugh drew her attention back to him. “It seems we are the victims of an elaborate matchmaking scheme,” he murmured.

“So it would seem.” Abigail lifted her eyes to his. “Why do you want to marry me—I do not mind if it is for my money.”

“For your money?” His eyes softened. “I recently learned that a man does not need two years to decide to marry the woman he loves.”

“Loves—Two years?” she said.

He pulled her close. “Aye.”

Before she could ask for an explanation, he kissed her.

 

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