“The girl is indeed spirited. I presume she shares that trait with you.” Cranston came closer, near enough that she could touch him. Near enough that she longed to slap the pleasant facade from his face.
Johanna steeled herself against the impulse. She’d play along with his charade. Let him pretend this was a civil discourse, and that he was not a monster who’d murdered a man and abducted a child, all in pursuit of a polished rock.
“Her mother was the spirited one.” Johanna forced her lips into a smile. “I make no such claim.”
“Modesty does not become you.” His eyes narrowed, seeming to assess her. “I know about your journey. I can only pray that Scottish ruffian did not accost you.”
Scottish ruffian. The words echoed like a bell’s peal in her mind. This cold-blooded cur, daring to describe Connor in such coarse terms. Again, she itched to strike the bastard. Again, she tamed the urge. She’d come for one purpose. Until Laurel was safely away from this place, Johanna would have no choice but to dance to this villain’s discordant tune.
“I am quite well, all things considered.” She honeyed her voice. “I was hoping to see my niece. I trust she is near.”
“It goes without saying that you will soon be reunited with the girl. But first…you have something for me.”
Taking in a breath, she steadied herself. “Your associate took possession of my valise when he intercepted my carriage. I presume he still has the bag.”
Ross rushed to present the satchel to his employer. “It’s there…the book you’ve been looking for.”
“You don’t say.” Cranston’s silvery gaze fell on his henchman’s injured hand, flashing an unspoken threat. “Let’s take a look, shall we?”
With deliberate movements, Cranston opened the traveling case. He removed the book. Interest flickered in his eyes. “I assume this book is precious to you, Miss Templeton. I regret you must make such a sacrifice. But sadly, Mr. Abbott’s duplicity left us no choice. To think the scoundrel actually thought he could betray me and escape the consequences. Of course, once my men caught up with him, he was eager to confess every lie, including the name he so foolishly believed would throw us off his trail.”
Cranston’s calm, icy tones unleashed a shiver along Johanna’s backbone. She steadied her breath, choosing her words with precision.
“I treasure the book and its significance as a literary work. But my niece is far more precious to me than any object could ever be.”
“Well said.” Cranston ran his fingertips over the volume’s leather binding. “Such quality and craftsmanship. Rare, indeed. You’re not likely to find such attention to detail in this era.”
“Indeed,” she said, the tones even, despite the pounding of her heart.
“Donaldson, please bring Miss Templeton’s niece,” he said, his tone flat as if he’d requested tea and biscuits.
With a crisp nod, the tall man left the room. Cranston turned his interest back to the volume in his hand. “Remarkable condition for a first edition. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Ross?”
The henchman shot the tome a nervous glance. “It’s a fine book, Mr. Cranston.”
Cranston casually thumbed through the pages. “Almost too fine. I’d expected signs of wear. Perhaps some indication the novel had actually been read.”
“Mr. Abbott was only interested in first-quality manuscripts,” Johanna spoke up. “My brother-in-law prided himself on the pristine state of his collection.”
Closing the book, Cranston handed the book to the countess. “It appears Mr. Abbott made a fool of all of us.”
Stiletto-sharp fear pierced Johanna’s heart. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What I am talking about…is the difference between your niece walking out of here with you, or—” Cranston’s attention shot to the chamber door. “Ah, here she is. A lovely child.”
At his words, Johanna’s gaze fell upon a face so dear, her knees threatened to buckle with relief. Rebellious dark curls framed a small, freckled face scrunched into a frown. Laurel’s bright eyes went wide, and her mouth opened into a perfect O. A small cry escaped her as she bucked against the hold of the man who held one hand clamped over her forearm.
“Auntie!” Laurel struggled to free herself.
“A wee banshee, she is,” the old man named Donaldson muttered, marching into the chamber with the child in tow.
“Release the girl.” The countess’s smooth tones contrasted with the ice in her eyes.
“As ye wish.” Donaldson’s eyes flashed with disdain. The child tore from the old man’s grasp and darted to Johanna.
“Oh my sweet darling.” Johanna enfolded Laurel in her embrace. “I’m ever so glad to see you.”
“I thought…I thought you’d left me.” Laurel’s tears dampened Johanna’s dress.
“Never.” Johanna said with a fierce determination. “I would never leave you. Soon, we’ll be home.”
Ross clamped rough hands on Laurel’s arms and attempted to tug her away. Johanna met his eyes. “Take your hands off her.”