From all indications, the man we found dead was in the company of two men when he was shot, but we have no idea who those men were. I have yet to identify the dead man or the two men Kiernan killed, but it's clear they were all party to your son's attempted kidnapping. I can't say if they have any connection with the fire, but we have your description of the one man sighted near the village the night of the fire. If I find anything further, I will contact you immediately. Of course, if you think of anything more, or if anything else happens that you believe connects to this case, please contact me immediately.
John Glen, Chief Magistrate, Glasgow
Phoebe didn't like the coincidence of the dead men and the arson any better than did the magistrate. The two had to be connected. A horrifying thought struck. Kiernan had accused Adam of being the arsonist. Had he told his father of his suspicions? If the Duke of Ashlund made accusations against Adam—a sound outside in the hallway caught her attention. The distinct murmur of men's voice filtered to her.
Phoebe jumped to her feet and shoved the letters back into the drawer. She hesitated. Where were the men headed? The study had a hallway door. She raced for the adjoining door. Whoever it was, if they entered one of these rooms, she could step into the empty room and close the connecting door before they entered. The voices came closer and she realized they had paused outside the study.
Phoebe eased the adjoining door open a crack as the study door opened and her uncle's voice sounded loud and clear, "You're too generous, Your Grace."
She peered through the slit at her uncle, the duke, and his son.
"He's a fine animal," the duke replied. "You're making a good investment." He motioned to the couch near the fireplace. "Kiernan, would you fetch us a drink?" The duke looked at her uncle. "Do you like scotch?"
"I do, Your Grace. Thank you."
"Marcus will do," the duke said, "Or MacGregor, if you prefer."
Her uncle looked startled, but said, "Of course, Marcus."
They sat on the couch and a moment later Kiernan handed them drinks then sat on the wing backed chair opposite them. "How is Phoebe adjusting to the idea of marriage?" he asked.
"It will take some time," he replied.
Kiernan laughed. "So I gather."
Her uncle surprised her by saying, "You have done the right thing, Lord Ashlund, and I am grateful."
Kiernan's expression sobered. "I couldn't have done otherwise."
"But you could have," her uncle said. "Many men in your position would have."
Kiernan cast his father a sideways glance, "True."
"My solicitor will have the contract drawn up. The dowry—"
"I promised Phoebe her inheritance is hers," Kiernan cut in. "Please see to it that the contract is clear in this matter."
Her uncle gave a nod. "You are generous."
As for a dowry," Kiernan began—Phoebe's heart thudded—"I will have to give that some thought."
"Kiernan," the duke said.
"You can't take all the fun out of this, Father."
"Careful, lad, I can."
"Maybe," he replied, humor in his voice. "But I don’t need her money. I am the groom, however, and I do deserve something."
His father mirrored her thoughts when he replied, "I have no doubts the lady will give you exactly what you deserve," then added, "Please bring me the newspaper from the desk in my study."
Phoebe clapped a hand over her mouth, barely stifling a gasp as Kiernan rose. She whirled and raced across the room. At the door, she yanked it open and stepped outside, carefully clicking it shut behind her. She started for the servants' stairs, but a woman's laughter in the stairway stopped her. By heavens, someone was coming up the stairs.
Phoebe pivoted and ran down the hallway to the main stairs before realizing her mistake. Anyone who might be in the foyer below would see her descend the staircase. She continued past the stairs to the room one door down from the duke's and slipped inside. A small fired burned in the hearth and Phoebe immediately realized her horrible mistake. She had entered Kiernan MacGregor's room.