A Most Dangerous Profession

chapter 14





A letter written yesterday to Robert Hurst from his brother-in-law Angus Hay, the Earl of Erroll.


I have no idea where to find you so I’m addressing this to your town house, hoping that you will find it before you leave Edinburgh. You asked what I knew about a certain Sir Ross of Balnagown. I’ve made inquiries and have much to report.

Robert, if you have any dealings with this man, have a care. I hear he is very volatile and his opponents have a tendency to mysteriously disappear and never be heard from again.

The inn was very small, only one floor, more of a tavern really. The windows were broad and low to the ground; the yard was neat and planted with flowers that bravely showed their face to the chilly Highland wind.

Robert took Moira’s elbow and they walked inside. A broad-faced innkeeper met them on the threshold of the common room and introduced himself as MacKeith.

While Robert spoke with the innkeeper, Moira stripped off her gloves and wandered about the room. The area was quite large, with wide windows and good seating. Two long, well-scrubbed tables ran along the far wall for meals. There was a fat settee covered in deep-blue flowered chintz, and several chairs made in the Hepplewhite fashion. The broad mantel was decorated with a display of glassware, some of it quite lovely.

“Moira, MacKeith will warm our coats by the kitchen fire while we wait.”

“That would be lovely.” Moira allowed Robert to take her pelisse.

He handed it to the innkeeper. “Thank you, MacKeith.”

“Och, ’tis me pleasure. Do ye need feed fer the horses?”

“And food for the men, too, please. We’re here to meet with an agent of Sir Lachlan Ross’s. Have you seen a Mr. Carmichael?”

“No’ yet, though I was tol’ t’ expect ye. Would yer lady wife like some tea, or a small glass o’ sherry?”

Moira hid a shudder. She hated sherry; it was so sweet, it made her teeth ache. “Do you have any scotch? I much prefer a glass of that.”

The innkeeper looked impressed. “O’ course we do. Can I offer ye a wee dram o’ the water o’ life, too, sir?”

“That would be excellent.”

The sound of a carriage made the innkeeper turn to the window. “Och, there’s Carmichael now—and Sir Lachlan is wit’ him!”

Robert crossed the room to look out the window.

“I’ll fetch yer scotch anon. I’m sure his lordship will wish fer a dram himself.”

“Thank you.” Robert didn’t turn as the innkeeper hurried off. “Ross is riding a brute of a horse.”

“Ah. Then I shall become a horse lover.”

Robert smiled as he turned away from the window. “You are very quick. Are you ready?”

Moira smoothed her gown. “Oh, yes.”

Out in the hallway, swift steps sounded. The door opened and a man entered. He was short set and incredibly fat, sporting three chins under a flushed face. He was dressed modestly, his neckcloth and sober coat befitting a solicitor.

His gaze flickered to Robert, and then blinked with surprise on finding Moira.

Robert bowed. “Good afternoon. I am Robert Hurst. I take it you are Carmichael?”

“Aye, so I am.” The man bowed and said with a soft burr, “I’m Sir Lachlan Ross’s man o’ business.” He cast an uncertain glance at Moira.

Robert flicked a careless finger in her direction. “My wife, Mrs. Hurst.”

He offered no other introduction and after an awkward pause, the solicitor bowed in her direction and mumbled, “Pleased to meet ye.”

She curtsied, then looked expectantly at Robert for a more formal introduction.

Robert pretended not to notice, studying the tip of his cane, as if the silver wasn’t as polished as he liked.

Mr. Carmichael broke the silence with an awkward laugh. “I’m certain ye’re both tired from yer trip. Sir Lachlan wished to see a colt he’s thinkin’ o’ purchasing, so he came as well. He’ll be most anxious to—”

Heavy footsteps in the hallway announced the approach of Sir Lachlan. Robert stepped to the side, blocking Moira from the man’s view.

Ross was expensively dressed, his boots polished until they shone. He was tall with broad shoulders, and gave off a vigorous air. His reddish brown hair was faded and streaked with white at each temple. His eyes were a startling blue, his nose beaked over a firm mouth, giving him the air of a hawk.

Ross’s gaze flickered over Robert, touching upon the sapphire pin in his cravat and lingering on the sheen of his boots.

Robert didn’t display any interest other than a mild lift of his brows.

Mr. Carmichael cleared his throat in a ponderous manner. “Sir Lachlan, this is Mr. Hurst, who has come to see about the artifact.”

“Mr. Hurst.” Ross bowed.

“Ross.” Robert inclined his head with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

Ross reddened, his jaw tightening in an ominous fashion. “I came to see a colt I’m purchasing or I’d have met you at my castle.”

Robert shrugged. “This is as good of a place as any. Did you bring the box?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t think you’d want to conduct business in a common taproom.”

Ross’s air of superiority disappeared when Robert looked about him in apparent surprise. “A taproom?” Robert pulled out his monocle and peered about the room, moving a few paces as he did so. “My dear Ross, you’ve been too long gone from town if you consider this a taproom.”

Ross’s heavy eyebrows lowered. “Now see here, Hurst, I didn’t come here to—” His gaze locked on something past Robert’s shoulder and all words disappeared from his lips.

Robert hid a smile and followed the man’s gaze to where Moira stood, the sunlight from the window catching the red of her hair and limning the pure line of her cheek. “Oh. My wife, Mrs. Hurst. Moira, this is Ross of Balnagown Castle.”

Ross bowed. “Mrs. Hurst, I didn’t realize you were attending.”

Moira dipped into a curtsy, looking engagingly graceful while holding out her left hand for Ross to kiss.

To Robert’s astonishment, a simple gold wedding ring sparkled in the light. Where the hell did she get that? It was a masterly touch, one he hadn’t thought of.

Ross hurried forward to take the proffered hand. Moira held her curtsy a moment longer than necessary, giving his lordship a nice look down her décolletage.

You are good, ma chère. Very good.

Moira stood, looking up at Ross through her lashes as if shy. “I shouldn’t be here. I fear I foisted myself upon my poor husband.”

“Yes, she did,” Robert drawled in a bored tone.

“Sir Lachlan, I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t resist the chance to see your beautiful countryside. The highlands are so romantic! The mountains and lochs, even this little inn looks as if it belongs in a painting.”

Ross beamed at the seemingly artless speech.

Robert smoothed the lace at his wrists and sighed impatiently. “Moira, please, don’t monopolize Sir Lachlan.” To Robert’s amusement, Ross was still holding Moira’s hand, one thumb rubbing her wedding ring, as if he was desirous of erasing it completely.

Ross collected himself with a visible effort. “Well, perhaps we should stay here a bit before we continue on. You must be tired from your journey.”

Though Ross spoke to Moira, Robert said, “An excellent idea. I am a bit fatigued.” He crossed to the fire and took the seat closest to it. “Ross, pray have a seat.”

It was a rude move, since a gentleman would have seen his wife seated first.

Ross sent Robert a hard look and then made a point of offering the next best seat to Moira, who took it with a blush. How does she do that?

Ross sat down near Robert while Carmichael took a seat at the table, discreetly out of the way.

Robert stretched out his legs and examined the sheen of his boots. “I am delighted you made the trip here. I expected only Carmichael.”

“It was a lovely day, perfect for a ride.”

“You rode?” Robert lifted the monocle to Ross. “I thought Balnagown was still some distance.”

“It is six miles down the road. I ride at least an hour every day. It keeps one fit.”

“Riding is so . . . bouncy. It was uncomfortable enough getting here by coach. By the way, my luggage should be arriving later. Two more coaches, in fact.”

Ross looked confused. “Two?”

“My clothes, sir,” Robert said in a lofty tone.

“Oh. Of course, of course.” He shot a glance at Moira. “Ladies do love to have all their pretty gowns with them.”

“Oh, I brought only two trunks,” Moira said artlessly. “Robert brought six.”

Ross blinked. “Six?”

“It is so hard to know how to dress in the country,” Robert said. “Will it be too cold? Or too warm? All one knows is that it will be ‘too’ something.”

Moira added, “Hurst says that spring in Scotland is uncertain, and summer only slightly less so.”

“It’s a heathen land, ma chère,” Robert said. “Which is why I didn’t think you should come.”

“Heathen?” Ross sent a dark look at Robert. “I must protest that, sir!”

“Oh, it’s not worth the effort,” Robert said easily.

Ross’s flush deepened. “I think you’ll find all of the same luxuries at Balnagown as you’d find anywhere in London.” He turned to Moira. “Wait until you see Balnagown Castle. The lands about it are incomparable.”

“I am glad I brought my riding habit, then. I love to ride, too, although some people do not.” She shot a side-glance at Robert.

He yawned. “Yes, yes. I can only hope that Sir Lachlan will take you for a ride or two.”

“I would be delighted,” Ross said.

“It would be a boon to me, for I find horses a dead bore.”

Ross looked as if he thought Robert was half mad. After a visible struggle he managed to say in a mild tone, “There are many excellent trails near Balnagown Castle. I’d be delighted to take Mrs. Hurst on the best ones.”

Moira looked pleased. “I shall look forward to it.”

“Providing the coaches make it here with your habit,” Robert said, aggrievedly. “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they became stuck in the mud. I’ve never seen worse roads.”

Moira sniffed. “You’re really worried about your clothes, not mine.”

“I would be quite upset to lose the new shirts I just had made. The Belgian lace cost a fortune.”

Ross’s smile was only slightly less than contemptuous. “Mr. Hurst, you do live up to your reputation as a fashion plate.”

“Thank you. I hope that you live up to yours.” At Ross’s startled expression, Robert added, “As an honest trader and businessman, of course.”

“Of course.”

The innkeeper returned with a small tray bearing four glasses and a decanter of scotch.

Mr. Carmichael stood and rubbed his hands together. “Ah, MacKeith, ye’re a man after me own heart! A wee dram will warm the air.”

Moira stood as well. “Please allow me to pour.” She crossed to the tray.

The innkeeper turned to Ross. “Will ye be needin’ yer dinner?”

Ross shook his head. “No, thank you. We won’t be staying that long.”

MacKeith bowed and left while Moira poured the whiskey and spoke quietly with Mr. Carmichael.

Robert turned to his host. “So, Ross, this artifact. I’ve been quite anxious to see if it’s in as good repair as your agent said it is.”

“Mr. Hurst, please. There will be time to discuss the artifact when we’re at the castle.”

“I take my collections very seriously. I appreciate beauty in all forms: a fine painting, a valuable object d’art”—he glanced at Moira—“a woman’s white skin.”

Ross’s eyes gleamed. “It’s refreshing to see a man who appreciates his wife’s beauty.”

“She is my newest acquisition. We’ve been married less than a month. She’s almost virginal.”

The man’s nostrils flared at that tidbit. Moira’s information was correct; Robert could almost feel Ross’s interest churn. “It has been a most enjoyable few weeks. In fact—Ah, thank you, my dear.” Robert took the glass that Moira handed him.

Moira turned and held a glass to Ross, bending just a bit so that her breasts pressed against the thin material of her gown, the thin ruffle of her chemise clearly visible.

Ross’s gaze locked on her bosom as he took the drink.

Moira straightened, meeting Robert’s gaze over Ross’s head, and Robert held up his glass in a silent toast. She was quite subtle. Later, Ross would wonder if she’d been flirting or not and, in not knowing, would be even more intrigued.

Her eyes twinkled as she took her seat beside Robert and asked Ross about the horses in his stables. Ross enthusiastically embarked on a detailed listing of every horse he owned, had owned, and wished to own. Moira listened with a great air of interest, asking questions that showed her own knowledge, while Robert pretended utter boredom. It wasn’t much of a stretch to do so, either.

Robert was actually delighted when, through the wide window, he saw Stewart leading the coach back into the inn yard. “Ah, the coach!” Robert stood, Moira following. “Ross, while I hesitate to break up such a delightful conversation, we should be on our way.”

Ross reluctantly climbed to his feet. “Och, we should at that. I lost track of the time, talking about my horses.”

“I quite understand,” Moira said fervently.

Ross looked pleased as he bowed. He made several more unctuous statements while Robert led them all out into the hallway. He sent the innkeeper to fetch Moira’s pelisse and, with a deft hand here, a smooth comment there, herded everyone into place and had them on the road in less than five minutes.

As soon as they were under way, Sir Lachlan leading the way on his large bay, Moira relaxed against the squabs. “That was a good beginning.”

Robert set his cane against the far seat. “Indeed it was. I must admit that I underestimated your skills.”

“You always did, my love.” She slipped off her wedding ring and flipped it across the coach at Robert.

He caught it with one hand and examined it. “This was a nice touch. I fear I hadn’t thought of it.”

“Details are important.”

He tossed the ring back. “Where did you get it?”

“I wore it when I was home, with Rowena. It was a good way to keep the gossips at bay.”

“Since no husband was visible, I take it that the good people of Craigentinny believe you’re a widow.”

“Indeed they do.” She replaced the ring on her finger. “So, have we hooked Ross well and good?”

“I believe so. By the way, we’re newly married. I wanted him to think he would steal my bride fresh from the altar. I thought it would appeal to his prurient interest.”

“And did it?”

“He was almost panting. I made him think you were only a few days shy of being a virgin.”

“So he likes an innocent, does he?”

“I think the earl’s about the challenge, seducing a man’s beloved wife under his very nose—ordinarily a difficult thing to accomplish. And a newly married woman would be the most difficult to seduce of all.”

“Very true.” Moira pulled her gloves from her pocket and tugged them on. “I was surprised you were so obnoxious to our host.” Robert’s easy slip into the character of a spoiled man of the world had been done to perfection. “I wanted to slap you, even though I knew you were acting.”

“It will sweeten the pot. If Ross enjoys seducing the wife of a man whose company he enjoys, imagine his joy at seducing the wife of a man he cannot stand. I wish to inspire the desire to humiliate me. The combination of desires should have him well primed to make a royal fool of himself.”

“So I’m to charm and you’re to disarm?”

“Well said, ma chère.”

“I like how you think, Mr. Hurst.”

“And I like how you played our host, Mrs. Hurst. He will rue the day he invited us to visit him.”

Her heart warmed. It had been so very long since she’d had someone to work with, someone with whom to talk through her ideas and problems.

Her mind turned through the possibilities. “If we play this right, he will never know we have deceived him, which would keep him from raising an alarm.”

“We’ll do the best we can. It all depends on whether we can locate his secret hiding place without his knowing it.”

“When we arrive at Balnagown, I’ll finagle an early morning ride for tomorrow.”

“Good. Keep him gone at least two hours. I’ll start searching the more obvious locations. Meanwhile, I’ll put my secret weapon to work uncovering information from the servants’ quarters.”

“Secret weapon?”

“Buffon. If anyone can ferret out good gossip, it is a Frenchman with an air of superiority. I don’t know what it is about him, but the other servants fall over themselves to tell him the most inappropriate things.”

She had to laugh. “He seems very disagreeable.”

“He is. But he does much to establish me as a worthless fop, while also obtaining the most valuable bits of information from the servants.”

“Who know everything, regardless what their masters and mistresses think.”

“Exactly.”

“Robert, I actually feel . . . hopeful.” At his surprised look, she said, “I haven’t felt hope in so long. I owe you thanks.”

“You can thank me once we have Rowena back.” His expression softened. “I look forward to meeting her.”

Moira’s heart gave an odd jerk. She was beginning to realize that her decision to cut Robert from his own child’s life had been made too hastily. She’d assumed many things, among them how he felt about having a child and whether he would be a good father, all without consulting Robert. At the time she’d been so certain she was doing the right thing, what was best for Rowena. Now she wasn’t so certain.

Robert began to talk about various hidden places he’d found in previous cases, and Moira listened with growing appreciation for his resourcefulness. It would be wonderful if he could find the artifact and they could just slip away, though she knew better than to count on anything being easy. There were too many unknown factors.

But the nice thing was that she was no longer alone. Together, she and Robert would see this through to the end.

Moira twisted the ring on her finger. Just a little longer, Rowena. Just a little longer.