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Still, it made her feel lighter, knowing—on some level—he cared about her response to Thorne’s news, so this time her smile was a little braver. He’d given her strength, somehow.

“I am happy to have him remain in Scotland,” she admitted. “But my question was going to be… Now John is dead, how will you monitor Blackrose? Is he still in Canada?”

Both men seemed surprised by the question.

Thorne exchanged a glance with her husband, hesitating before he answered. “As a matter of fact… We ken where he was, up until yer brother’s death. We suspect once he learns of it—likely through an innocuous manner, such as a report or a message in a newspaper—he’ll move.”

“Do you know where he’ll move?”

Again, Thorne hesitated.

“Thorne,” she said firmly, “we are now friends, and something more, as co-conspirators. You might as well tell us everything.”

The blond man blew out a breath and grinned at Alistair. “Is she always this forthright?”

To her surprise, her husband rolled his pale eyes, his lips twitching wryly.

Chuckling, Thorne held up his hands in mock surrender. “I hope I dinnae have to tell ye this cannae leave this room? Our investigation is no’ officially sanctioned, but those of us who are involved have been given permission to bring Blackrose to justice.”

“These others…they’re former agents as well?”

Thorne nodded. “We thought there were only a handful of us left, but it seemed a few more survived Blackrose’s initial purge. Before yer brother died, he confessed his mission had been to make Blackrose a lord, hence the whole heir-to-a-dukedom scheme.”

At her side, Alistair made a noise, surprising her enough to whirl on him. He could make sounds?

But instead of acknowledging her surprise, he was staring at Thorne, one brow raised in question.

His friend nodded. “Blackrose must believe that as a lord he’d been protected from prosecution.”

“Particularly if the evidence against him was destroyed,” she pointed out.

“So he believes,” Thorne agreed. “The ironic thing is that his aulder brother would’ve had a greater claim to any inherited title, such as the Duke of Peasgoode.”

Alistair grunted.

This time, Olivia was looking right at him, or otherwise she might not have believed it. He grunted again, his brow raised, obviously seeking answers.

She tried to understand his question. “Who…is his brother?”

And Thorne sounded surprised when he answered, “I dinnae mention that? The Earl of Bonkinbone, William Stoughton.”

* * *

Bonkinbone! The fourth time the man’s name had come up in recent days! Alistair shook his head, pushing aside the curiosity to focus on his wife.

As Olivia asked questions about the investigation, Hiro supervised a maid who brought in the tea cart and a light repast. It made Alistair remember how long he’d been traveling. Had he really left Scotland yesterday morning?

He should’ve taken Olivia with him.

He shouldn’t have left her alone.

Thank God he was here for her when she learned of her brother’s fate, although he wasn’t certain what help he’d been. He couldn’t offer her words of comfort, but he could hold her.

Hold her as if he’d never let her go.

By the time their cups were empty and Olivia seemed to have exhausted all of her curiosity about the investigation, Alistair realized he was still holding her. No matter how tired he was, she seemed to be even more so; most of her weight was leaning against him, her shoulders slumped.

He wanted to help her. He needed to.