Last Night's Scandal (The Dressmakers 5)

Though he seemed his usual obstinate self, she kept seeing in her mind the few minutes when the man had struck him with the rock, and she thought he’d been killed.

Now the wound was cleaned, she could see why the men had made light of it.

Lisle had been wearing a hat, and his hair was thick. The rock had scraped the skin, and he had bled, but a little blood made a great mess.

Still, she was shaken.

“I know word travels quickly,” he went on, “but this is ridiculous. We made our plans so late last night. Who knew, apart from Nichols, Bailey, and Herrick, that we’d be on that road at that hour?”

“The question isn’t who knew but how our attackers came to know,” Olivia said.

Herrick entered. “Your lordship, the men have returned from their search. I greatly regret to report that they’ve brought neither the villains nor the chest.”

“I didn’t think they’d catch them,” Lisle said. “If it hadn’t been for that man lying in the road—”

“Glaud Millar, your lordship. The village cobbler. Usually drunk at night but at his bench sober every morning.”

Olivia looked up at the butler. “You think someone helped him to be lying dead drunk in the road this morning?” she said.

“I find the coincidence suspicious, certainly, miss.”

“I do, too,” Lisle said. “It delayed our workmen, and gave our attackers time to get away. They’ll be in Edinburgh by now.”

“I’m not at all sure of that, your lordship,” Herrick said.

“They took our chest and our cart and our horse,” Lisle said. “Why wouldn’t they go to Edinburgh?”

“Your lordship, we’ve sorry criminals hereabouts. Not the cleverest fellows. Yet even they, I believe, wouldn’t risk taking to the road and heading where everyone expects them to go. Moreover, everyone would notice if a pair of neighbors abruptly disappeared. If I may, I would suggest we look closer to home.”

Meanwhile, in a stand of trees a few yards from the ruined church, Jock gazed dolefully at the stolen horse.

“The chest’s safe enough,” Roy said. “All we got to do is wait until the to-do dies down.”

“But we could’ve drove to Edinburgh,” Jock said, “one of us on the horse and one on the cart with the chest.”

“The same day the laird’s son gets a rock in the head and his horse and cart and chest robbed? With men looking for that same cart and horse and chest on all the roads? And who in Edinburgh you think’ll want goods stole today and all the world looking for them?”

“If Mary tells, they’ll know it was us.”

“There’s another reason,” said Roy. “If we go to Edinburgh, she’ll feel safe, and free to talk. But when she sees us in the Crooked Crook tonight, sitting next to Glaud like usual, she’ll hold her tongue.”

“What if she talks between now and then? That bastard Herrick—”

“Blood’s thicker than water,” Roy said. “You know how she is about that brother of hers. She won’t chance any hurt coming to him. Long as we’re here, she’ll hold her tongue. Then we let it all quiet down, and by and by we find ourselves a good horse and wagon and pack up our trunks—and there’s the chest in one of them—and off we go to Edinburgh. Or maybe Glasgow.” He considered. “I know some fellows there. They mayn’t know what’s happened here.” He patted his brother on the shoulder. “There’s the answer, Jock. Glasgow. That’s where we’ll go.”

“Now?” Jock said hopefully.

Roy glanced over at the horse, quietly grazing.

“Too risky,” he said. “But soon. Soon as we get us another horse and a wagon. Let this one wander home when she feels like it.”

Chapter 19

That night

The door to the Crooked Crook opened and three people came in.

Jock froze, tankard halfway to his mouth.

“Roy,” Jock said in a low voice.

“I see,” Roy said.

The laird’s son, the redhead who’d kneed Jock in the bollocks, the skinny manservant Nichols, and that smug bastard Herrick.

“What they want here?” said Jock.

“What you think?”

“We better go.”

“They come in, we run out? How will that look?”

“Dunno,” said Jock.

“It’ll look guilty, is what,” Roy said. “Stay where you are and act like you always do.”

“What if Mary told on us?” Jock said.

Roy glanced over at Mary’s brother Glaud, who was slumped over his table, his head in his arms.

“What’s she got to tell?” Roy said. “All we did was ask her what news from the castle. Same as anybody would ask.”

The laird’s son and the redhead went up to the bar and said something to Mullcraik. He filled two tankards.

Herrick didn’t go with them. He stood in front of the door, his arms folded. Tam MacEvoy stood up and started for the door. Herrick held up his hand. Tam MacEvoy stayed where he was.

The laird’s son turned away from the bar and held up his tankard. “And a round for everyone here, Mr. Mullcraik,” he said.

That set off a buzz. Tam went back and sat down. Someone called, “Thank you, your lordship.” Others joined in.

The laird and the redhead only smiled.

“There, you see?” Roy said. “They come to ask everybody what they know. Nobody knows nothing. We don’t know nothing, either. And his lordship buys us a drink, same as everyone else.”

After everyone had been served, someone proposed a toast to his lordship. When they’d got over that toadying, his lordship said, not loud, but clear enough so everyone heard it, “You know me, I believe, most of you. And you know I wouldn’t be here, plying you with drink, if I didn’t want something.”

Several people laughed.

He went on, “This morning, as I’m sure you are all aware, Miss Carsington and I were attacked and robbed of a horse, a cart, an old woolen blanket with holes in it, and an even older iron chest. Late in the day, the horse returned, bringing the cart with her. The blanket has not come back. Neither has the chest. We’re particularly interested in the chest, but news of the blanket would be helpful as well. We have come here, you see—” He turned and looked at the redhead. “We’ve come in search of clues.”

An hour later

“It’s them,” Olivia said. “The pair in the corner.”

“The Rankins,” Herrick said without looking that way.

The brothers were among Herrick’s short list of suspects.

“Very friendly with Glaud and Mary Millar suddenly,” said Lisle.

“And Mary is one of our housemaids,” Herrick said. “She stayed quite late last night.” His brow creased. “I spoke to her earlier but she only said she went straight home. Most unfortunate, sir. A good girl. But Glaud is all she has, and he appears to be their hostage.”

“The devil of it is, we’ve no evidence,” Lisle said. “It’s all hearsay and speculation. They’re suspected of a great many things, but—” He shook his head. His father had so much to answer for. Petty criminals running amok in his village. Villagers whose efforts were constantly being undermined. The pastor to whom Lord Atherton had given the living resided in Edinburgh, and wouldn’t inconvenience himself by traveling ten miles to tend to his flock.

“We’ve no proof and they know it,” Olivia said. “All they have to do is hold their tongues.”

Lisle looked at her. “I might be able to beat it out of them—”

“So crass,” she said. “So inartistic.”

He’d heard a great deal to depress him this night, but she made him laugh. “Very well, then,” he said. “You first.”

The brothers sat close together, their heads bent over their tankards while they talked

in low voices. Glaud Millar slept on his folded arms on the side of the table nearest Jock. There was an empty chair opposite Jock but Lisle told them there was a draft there, and they must make way for the lady. The men were obliged to shift, making room for Lisle on one side, between Jock—wedged into a corner—and Roy, and Olivia on the other, between Jock and Glaud.

She turned to Glaud, “Glaud Millar?” she said. “Glaud, we should like to speak to you.”

Glaud went on lightly snoring.

“No use, miss,” said Jock. “He won’t rouse for anything, ’cepting his sister.”

“Ah, well, he’s had a busy day,” said Lisle. “Sleeping in the road at daybreak. Carried back home. Now here he is again.”

“They were clever, those fellows, you must admit,” Olivia said to him. “They had exceedingly short notice, yet they devised such a cunning plan.”

“Cunning? They dragged a man who was dead drunk into the road and left him there for people to stumble over.”

“It was a brilliant delaying tactic,” she said. “If they hadn’t kept the workmen busy with Mr. Millar, they might have been caught in the middle of attacking us. No, it was cleverly done.”

Jock preened.

Roy shot him a look and he subsided and scowled into his tankard.

“And the boldness of it,” she said. “One must admire that.”

“What’s so bold about attacking a helpless woman?” Lisle said.

“Helpless?” Jock said. “Why, she—”