A Grave Matter

I supposed that was easy enough. Chances were she was with these rogue body snatchers, if we ever caught up with them. But I hesitated to make such a promise, especially knowing as little as I did.

 

“I’ll find your sister,” I told him, and his shoulders relaxed. “I’ll speak with her and find out if she’s truly well. And if she wants to return to Edinburgh, I’ll make sure she returns here, safe and sound. But I can’t agree to more than that.”

 

His gaze hardened. “She’s no’ of age.”

 

“I’m aware of that. And I’ll do my best to convince her to return to you. But if for whatever reason she does not want to, I will not force her.”

 

When the vein in his forehead began to throb, I thought it best to do a little more to reassure him.

 

“Come now. Do you honestly think I would leave a young girl in a situation that I did not think was suitable? For any woman,” I added, in case he thought I would think a brothel was appropriate for the sister of a notorious criminal like him. “Perhaps she’s found a respectable position for herself somewhere. If she’s safe and well cared for, I’m not going to force her to leave.”

 

Bonnie Brock studied me, clearly considering my words. I knew it had been dangerous to defy him, but I simply could not commit myself to something without knowing all the facts, especially when dealing with a man like him.

 

“I dinna like my requests to be denied,” he bit off. “But considerin’ how confident I am that Maggie ’ll wish to return if given the chance, I’ll let your foolishness slide.”

 

“Thank you,” I replied, unable to keep the mocking edge from my voice.

 

His eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. He reached his hand up and rapped on the roof three times and then settled back against the squabs.

 

I felt the carriage immediately pick up speed again, and then make a turn to the right and then the left. I still had no idea where we were, so the quick changes in direction meant nothing to me, but apparently they did to Bonnie Brock.

 

He sat forward on the edge of his seat and slid closer to the door. “’Twas a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Darby,” he declared.

 

I felt some of the muscles I’d been holding so tightly begin to release at the realization that this unasked-for interlude was almost over. “I’ll give your regards to Mr. Gage.” I sneered.

 

His eyes flashed. “Oh, dinna bother. I’ll offer them myself verra soon.”

 

“Don’t you dare.” I gasped, grasping the implication. “You got what you wanted from me. There’s no reason to disturb him.”

 

He chuckled darkly. “Aye. But I dinna get everything I wanted from you.”

 

I frowned. “Because I wouldn’t guarantee to send your sister to you?”

 

He stared at me levelly, his eyelids heavier than they had been before. “Just be glad ye brought yer pistol. And I was convinced ye might try to use it.”

 

The carriage halted abruptly, throwing me forward in my seat. By the time I’d righted myself, Bonnie Brock was already leaping out of the carriage.

 

“If you touch so much as a hair on his head . . .” I shouted before the door was slammed in my face.

 

The coach rolled forward again, and I inhaled deeply, sinking lower on the cushions while I tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

 

When I had myself more in hand, I risked a glance out the window, and upon seeing the classical buildings of the New Town, I reached up to rap on the ceiling. The coach immediately slowed, and a few minutes later the footman appeared in the doorway.

 

His eyes were wide in his face. “My lady, are you well?”

 

“Yes, yes,” I assured him. “What of you and the coachman? Did they harm either of you?”

 

“No more than our pride, m’lady.”

 

I nodded, relieved to know that at least we’d all come through our encounter with Bonnie Brock unscathed.

 

“I’m sorry, m’lady. They ambushed us on Charlotte Street. And they told me if I said a word to you at the theater, they’d shoot you.”

 

“It’s all right. They put us all in an impossible situation.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Where did they leap out at?”

 

“Near The Mound, m’lady.”

 

At the intersection of the Old and the New Town.

 

The coachmen yelled down something I couldn’t hear, but it made the footman glance up and down the street. “Do you wish to return to Charlotte Square, m’lady?”

 

“Not yet,” I replied, giving him an address on Princes Street and instructions on who to fetch once we were there.

 

He nodded and closed the carriage door before moving to the front to relay my message to the coachman. There must have been a small bit of squabbling over my orders, but eventually they were obeyed.

 

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