Page 66 of A Rogue in Firelight

“Perfect,” Ellison said, turning to see their driver returning. “Mr. MacNie, we will come back here in an hour. I think you have errands of your own, am I right?”

“I do, Miss. Mail and such, and I will see the blacksmith about getting some new harnesses.”

“Very good. We will see you soon.” She took Sorcha’s arm and turned away.

Pulling down her bonnet brim against the sunlight, she walked with Sorcha along the High Street. After a moment, she looked back to see MacGregor walking in the opposite direction. He had not worn his Highland gear—perhaps because some might know him, she realized. In dark trousers, coat, and tall hat, he looked like an ordinary gentleman on an ordinary day, though so tall and striking a figure would catch attention wherever he went. The sureness in his stride said he belonged here, knew where he was going, and knew what he meant to do.

He had more secrets than he would ever reveal, she thought.

*

“Ronan! I amsurprised to see you in Kinross—and pleased.” Hugh Cameron took Ronan’s hand, his clasp warm and strong. “I thought you were still in Edinburgh. I recently had an interesting letter from the Provost’s office concerning you. A pardon, of all things. Very unexpected.”

“It was. I will explain. Do you have time to talk?”

“Time for the lad who memorized every law book in the university’s library with me, matching pint for pint and book for book? Always! It is good to see you after these troublesome months for you. Take a seat.” Hugh sat in the leather chair behind his desk while Ronan took the chair opposite. “So, out and free. How the devil did you do it?”

“Free for now. I am skeptical, but I had some luck via the king, if you believe it.”

“I must hear this. Are you back in Perthshire to stay? The letter was unclear.”

“Soon I must return to the city for the royal visit. First, have you had any word about Linhope and MacInnes? I understand they were transferred to Calton Jail.”

“Aye, notice of that came to our Edinburgh office—Alan Smithson is looking into their situation.” Cameron shook his head. “Calton is not a good place.”

“True. Alan will make sure of their treatment.”

“He will. He wrote that Linhope told the warden about his medical skills, which are needed there, so he has some privileges, and MacInnes is allowed to assist him.”

“Good. Did they need to reveal who they are?”

“No questions, I think. Any medical experience is useful there.”

“That is the best we can hope for until I find a way to get them released.”

Hugh shook his head. “Not easy. What do you have in mind?”

“I found a detail that might help lift the charges. Innocence is not enough.”

“Innocence has gradients. You were lucky to obtain a pardon. But once a trial date is set for the others—well, we will try to avoid that. Let me know what you need.”

“Aye. Otherwise, is there news about the estate?”

“Nothing much. I was preparing a letter for you and was going to send it to Smithson so he could find you. But here you are.”

“Here I am. What more do you know? Sorting out the estate is a slow process.”

“Given the commotion of the king’s visit in the city, even slower.” Cameron picked up a sheaf of papers and rifled through them, choosing a page. “I wonder if you had much news in the dungeons. Are you aware that old Sir John Murray-MacGregor died this summer?”

“I heard. Sad, that. And Sir Evan is now clan chief.”

“Then you will have guessed that your cousin will take time to review clan issues before any decisions can be made. The Darrach matter will come to him.”

“Aye, the clan chief has the right to absorb forfeited or abandoned lands and titles into his own holdings. He may decide to do that and have done with it. My cousin Darrach left a bit of a tangle.”

“He did. The matter went to the Court of Sessions and the Lyon Court to help sort out the heritable claim, but it is difficult, since Darrach left no will.”

“He talked about it but never completed one, as I recall. He never thought it was pressing. He was young, and had other things on his mind.”