Page 40 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke (Scottish Duchesses #1)
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“ A re you perfectly sure about this?” Joseph asked for the umpteenth time.
Adrian rolled his eyes. “Why are you fussing like a mother with a newborn child?”
“Because I think this is a damn stupid course of action, that’s why.” Joseph slammed his hand on the desk. “You know a fellow like Briggs can’t be trusted.”
“When I want your advice, rest assured I will come to you and ask for it.”
“Adrian, consider.”
“I have considered. This is my best chance of acting against Moreton. You know I can’t level an accusation of this magnitude at him without proof. With Briggs’s help, I will have the proof.”
Joseph swore viciously, striding to the other end of the room. “Then I should be there with you.”
“Nonsense. You’re far more use to me here.”
“And what if you need help?”
Adrian pulled on his gloves and checked his cane for the sword sheathed there.
“Should I be insulted by your lack of faith in my abilities?” he asked wryly.
“Only if you die.”
“Rest assured I have no intention of doing that.” Adrian cast his study one last glance.
He wasn’t lying—he had no intention of dying, but he also had the slight impression that this would be the last time he saw this room in precisely the same light.
Probably Isobel’s fault. She had such a fanciful heart, she made him feel as though he also ought to be fanciful. But instead of Isobel, he had Joseph seeing him off.
He clasped his old friend’s shoulder. “Soon, this will all be over with. You can go on with your life and I can go on with mine.”
Joseph raised a brow. “And how do you intend to do that, Adrian?”
He had no good answer for that—somehow, it would involve Isobel, but he did not know in what capacity, and he didn’t want to think about the damage he had done to their relationship by sending her away—so he merely turned to leave.
“I’ll see you on my return. If I don’t return by daybreak, send the Runners in after me.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Joseph vowed.
Adrian nodded and stepped into the nondescript cab he had waiting for him, the worn black leather inside splitting.
There was a musty smell there, too, one that made him think that this carriage had long passed the days in which it would be any use.
Still, he knocked on the roof, and the driver flicked the reins, urging the tired horses into action.
The journey took almost half an hour, the streets thinning as they reached their destination—the docks.
The water of the Thames lapped quietly behind him, and Adrian strode into the darkness, to wait for Briggs.
Isobel arrived in London after a long day’s ride. It transpired leaving the house as a young lady without an escort was both not done and put her in the face of some danger, but she had a pistol in her pocket—the one her mother had given her when she’d fled Scotland—and plenty of determination.
There was no world in which she would allow something as simple as convention to stand between her and what she wanted.
Which, in this moment, was Adrian. She wanted to see his face and know he was all right. To hear his reassurance that he would not put himself in danger or allow anything to happen to him.
Her heart ached as she trotted down Grosvenor Square until she reached Adrian’s house.
Her house, she reminded herself.
The butler, when he opened the door to admit her, gaped a little.
“I have returned home,” Isobel announced grandly. “Please send someone around for my horse.”
“I—” The butler closed his mouth. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Now where is my husband?”
“I’m afraid I—” The butler broke off as Lord Rowton came striding down the hallway toward them. “Ah, my lord,” he said in relief. “Perhaps you can inform Her Grace where His Grace is.”
“Duchess.” Lord Rowton took her hand in his and brought it briefly to his lips. “Thank you, that will be all.”
The butler was dismissed and, after bowing, left them.
“Lord Rowton,” Isobel said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Where is Adrian?”
“Come with me. You must be freezing. Did you ride all the way here?” He looked at her in something approaching shock. “You did , didn’t you? Heavens above, Duchess, what were you thinking?”
“Oh, call me Isobel,” she said irritably. “For the last time, where is my husband?”
Lord Rowton chafed her hands in his as he led her to the drawing room, where a roaring fire had been lit in the hearth. Although spring had well and truly arrived, and was slowly turning into summer, there was a chill in the air.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Isobel,” he said regretfully.
Isobel yanked her hand free of his. “That wasnae a request.”
“If Adrian knew I had told you, he would never forgive me.”
“I will not forgive ye if ye do not tell me.” She stamped her foot. “I have been traveling all day. I am cold, I am tired, and there is more mud on the hem of my dress than I care to think about. Now tell me where Adrian is.”
Lord Rowton cast his gaze to the skies in despair. “Lord save me from a woman like this.”
“Aye, the Lord might be yer next port of call if ye don’t think carefully,” she said, and removed the pistol from the pocket of her cloak.
In truth, it wasn’t loaded, but she’d brought it along in case anyone saw a lone woman as easy pickings—and indeed, one young lout had thought to approach before she pointed the weapon at him.
Her hand was steady as she pointed it at Lord Rowton now. “Daenae make me use this,” she said. “But I will if I have to. I returned to London for my husband’s sake, and I will find him.”
There was a sick, twisting feeling at the pit of her stomach that made her certain something terrible had happened. Or, perhaps, was going to happen.
She had to find him.
Lord Rowton eyed the weapon with trepidation. “Now then, Your Grace, there’s no need to be hasty.”
“There is every need. Where is he?”
The way he sighed, sinking into a chair and putting his head in his hands, told her that she had finally gotten through to him. He mentioned an address she only knew vaguely—a dockyard by the river. No doubt at this hour, it would be near deserted.
“Why?” she demanded.
“He found the fellow Moreton paid to murder his brother. He left barely ten minutes ago.” Lord Rowton checked his pocket watch. “If he’d remained here any longer, he could have told you to remain home himself.”
“Aye, and it would have done him as much good as it did ye,” Isobel snapped. “I’ve had enough of other people deciding what’s best for me. If I’m old enough to choose a husband and outrun a murderer, I can choose to confront them both.”
She tossed Lord Rowton the pistol, and he yelped as he caught it gingerly.
“It’s empty,” she told him. “Unloaded. Now, I have a husband to find.”
“Isobel,” Lord Rowton said, catching her arm as she passed him on the way to the door. “Let me accompany you. I would feel better if?—”
“No,” she said, interrupting him. “Call the Runners. Send them to the yard. I have a feeling we’ll be needing them.”
Lord Rowton paled a little. “Do you really believe so?”
“I have no doubt,” she said grimly. “A man who would accept a bribe to kill would rather risk anything than compromising his own future. I have no doubt he expects to harm Adrian, and I won’t see that happen.”
Lord Rowton hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. And take this,” he produced another pistol from his coat, handing it to her.
The weapon felt heavy in Isobel’s hand—this one certainly wasn’t unloaded.
“I brought it with me, in case Adrian ever let me join him. But be careful, Isobel.”
Isobel tucked the weapon away in her skirts, “Thank ye, Joseph.”
“Adrian might be a stubborn fellow, and he doesn’t know how to admit these things to you, but you have become very important to him. That’s why he sent you away.”
Isobel started at Lord Rowton for a long time, her heart lodging in her throat.
All these things she knew, she knew , but that was not the whole truth. Because Adrian did care for her; she did not doubt that. And yet it was not the only reason he had sent her away. He sent her away both for her safety and because he was afraid for himself.
“Thank ye,” she said at last. “I’ll do my best.”
“He would never forgive himself if something happened to you,” he said.
“Aye,” Isobel said. “And I would never forgive myself if something happened to him.”