"I am well aware you've been spreading your legs for him these last three months," Ty snarled. "Unlike your husband, I am no fool. What did you do with my cousin?"
"We—I—did it for you," she sobbed
Blood roared through his ears. "Did what?"
"You know she won't marry you," his mother rushed on. "We must gain control of her inheritance. If she is dead—"
Ty seized his mother's arm and dragged her to within an inch of his face. "If she dies before I marry her, we won't get a damned thing. There's a stipulation in her mother's will that if Phoebe dies before marrying, her money goes to a distant cousin."
His mother gasped.
"That's right," he said. "Lady Wallington didn't trust us."
"Us? But we never hurt her."
"Only because she had the good grace to die of a fever first." He gave his mother a violent shake that jarred dark curls loose from their pins. "What did you do?"
"Phoebe isn't dead," she got out between sobs, then began to cry harder.
Rage flashed in a blinding light through his brain before her words penetrated. Ty shoved her back onto the couch and she fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. He pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it in front of her face. She hesitated.
"Take it," he ordered.
She took the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "You can be so cruel," she said through a dramatic hiccup.
"Like mother like son."
Her head snapped up and her eyes locked onto his.
"Where is she?" he demanded.
"I don't know. Clive said there were two men with her who protected her from him and his men."
"His men? Bloody hell, do you realize I could hang if he tells a single soul what I have planned?"
"Clive would never tell anyone."
"He's a damned coachman. Once he tires of fucking you, he'll find a wealthier woman who's just as bored as you are."
"Ty."
Ty sat down beside her. "Listen carefully, you are to leave Phoebe to me."
"Clive can help."
"No one can help. Now calm yourself. If your husband sees you, he'll demand to know why you've been crying.”
“He would take it for a touch of melancholia.”
Ty gave a disgusted snort. “Twelve years of marriage and he doesn't know you at all.”
"He sees what he wants to see."
There was a rap on the door, then it opened and a young maid entered, a tray of tea in hand. She stopped. "Forgive me, my lady." She gave a small curtsy. "I didn't realize you had company."
"Never mind," Ty said. "Bring the tray."
The girl cast a nervous glance at Lady Albery, but did as instructed. She set the tray on the sideboard. Ty rose and approached as she poured the second cup.
She paused and looked up at him. “M-m’lord?” she asked in a whisper.
Ty placed a hand over her fingers, steadying her as she finished filling the cup. "No need to be afraid,” he said softly.
“Y-yes, m’lord,” the maid stammered, then set the pot down and made a hasty exit.
“Really, Ty,” his mother said once they were alone again, “must you have every maid that passes through these doors?”
Ty carried the two cups of tea to the table in front of the settee, and sat down beside her. "Don't meddle in any of my affairs—especially Phoebe. Do you understand?"
"Surely you can find a better prospect than her?"
“Few heiresses are willing to wed a mere baron,” he replied. "And even if I were to find an heiress, few can boast fifteen thousand pounds a year.”
And even fewer had no one left in the world to protect them.
*****
Two towers came into view atop the mountainside to the west. Cool morning air rippled across Phoebe's cloak, tickling her arms. She cast a furtive glance at Kiernan MacGregor. He rode to her left with Mather to her right. Kiernan sat straight in the saddle, his body moving in a fluid motion with the horse, which gave testament to the countless hours he must have spent riding.
A tremor rippled through her. The memory of his kiss rose to the surface as it had a hundred times in the three hours since they'd left the inn. Kiernan wasn't the first man she'd kissed, but he was the first highwayman she'd kissed and—her stomach twisted—the first man she'd suspected of being a traitor. That, however, didn't stop her heart from fluttering with the memory.
For the thousandth time, she cursed her curiosity. Had she stayed in bed last night instead of following Alan Hay, she would halfway back to Edinburgh, where she could warn Alistair of the plan to assassinate the duchess. She would also be far away from Kiernan MacGregor. Though had she not followed Alan Hay, she wouldn’t know about his plan. Either way, her fate had been sealed the moment Kiernan MacGregor appeared in her coach doorway…or perhaps it was his fate that had been sealed. Her attention snagged on the way his trousers hugged his muscled thigh. Phoebe snapped her attention forward.
“Is something wrong, Heddy?”
She shifted her gaze to him.
He was regarding her. “I didn't think to bring a chamber pot with me.”
She scowled. “I have no use for a chamber pot here.”