Page 12

The word was heavy with meaning, and the smile slipped from my face, for I doubted either of us would ever forget that terrifying night which had ended with such great joy.

At least, for me and Gage. Bonnie Brock’s path had been less smooth.

Not only had he still been a wanted man, but he’d learned his half brother, the legitimate son of his father, had been the person who—with the help of Bonnie Brock’s rivals—had set about to destroy him and nearly killed me and Gage and our daughter in the process.

Bonnie Brock had been confronting the repercussions ever since.

I felt an unexpected pulse of guilt to have left him to wrangle with all of that on his own.

But then, we’d already risked more than enough to help bring the truth to light, and it wasn’t as if we were going to assist him to rebuild his criminal enterprises.

In the past, we might have been reluctant allies with the devil out of necessity, but that didn’t mean we weren’t cognizant of some of the offenses he’d committed and just what he was capable of.

Nevertheless, I hoped he had someone to speak to about his half brother’s animosity, someone in whom to confide.

“She’s the spittin’ image o’ her father,” he observed, seemingly offhandedly.

He’d seen Emma, then, out and about with us or on walks with her nanny. Something I should have expected. “Yes.”

He rubbed a hand over the stubble shadowing his jaw as he glanced toward the house. “Ye ken, I had pale curls when I was a bairn, too.”

I narrowed my eyes at this remark. For one of the spurious claims his half brother had made in his book about him was the implication that he might be the father of my child.

Yet Bonnie Brock knew full well that we had never lain together.

He’d tried to kiss me once, but I’d put a stop to that.

Normally he saved such taunts for when Gage was present, so I could only surmise that this was his way of regaining his footing after the past few moments of discomfort.

The roguish glint in his gold-green eyes seemed to suggest it had worked, but I wasn’t about to leave it at that.

“You forget, I’ve seen your mother’s journal and her sketches of you. I’m aware of what a beautiful baby you were.”

The laughter faded from his eyes, shifting to something much more menacing.

For his mother’s journal was a very private thing, and I’d correctly deduced he wouldn’t appreciate being called “beautiful,” no matter his sobriquet.

But I simply arched a single eyebrow in return, letting him know I was far from intimidated and that if he sought to provoke me, then two could play at that game.

It seemed to be the right tack, setting us on more even ground rather than each of us focusing on how the other had seen us at our most vulnerable.

Bonnie Brock when his world had been unraveling and he’d feared his sister was kidnapped, and me in the throes of advanced labor as he’d carried me from the depths of the vaults.

“I’ve come tae warn ye,” he stated without preamble, finally coming to the real reason for his visit.

“To warn me?” I repeated in surprise.

“Aye.” He peered around him again. “I ken ye quarreled wi’ Mean Maclean. Because o’ me. So I dinna ken if he’ll share any o’ this wi’ ye. But there’s somethin’ no’ right aboot the incident at Picardy Place.”

“You mean, something that suggests it wasn’t an accident?” I asked, trying to understand. “But how…?”

“They’ve called in a number o’ men—builders, architects, and the like—and the rumbles I’ve heard are no’ encouragin’.”

“But…the rumbles would hardly be encouraging even in the case that the original builder had used inferior materials or unsound building methods.”

He shook his head. “Nay, lass. They’re talkin’ o’ tamperin’ and sabotage.”

This momentarily shocked me into silence. “Then…not an accident.” The notion horrified me.

Bonnie Brock’s mouth flattened into a grim smirk. “Though they seem intent on keepin’ that quiet for noo.”

I didn’t know what to say. The idea that someone had tampered with the structure in some way to make the floor collapse as it did…

well, it was simply appalling! I found myself reliving the moment the ground had dropped out from beneath me, recalling the terrified screams of all the people who had fallen with me, their stunned faces smeared with blood and debris as we stumbled away from it.

And someone had done that deliberately? But why? Why would someone do such a thing?

“I just thought ye should ken,” Bonnie Brock explained. “Since ye were there.” He eyed me almost warily, and I realized I hadn’t spoken in some time.

“Yes,” I finally replied on an exhale, having held my breath. “Yes, we were.” I blinked, tightening my grip on my shawl as I considered his words more closely. “But surely…we weren’t the target.”

However, I could tell from Bonnie Brock’s expression that he wasn’t as convinced of this.

I waited, hoping he had more to share, to support why he thought Gage and I might have been the intended victims. But then, perhaps the explanation was obvious.

After all, we were inquiry agents who had helped to apprehend more than a few murderers, as well as thieves, forgers, body snatchers, and any other number of petty criminals.

Furthermore, we were also friends, of a sort, with Bonnie Brock.

Those were more than enough reasons someone might wish us ill.

“Thank you for telling us,” I murmured, intent on sharing what he’d said with Gage as soon as possible.

As if summoned by the thought, my husband stepped through the French doors just as Bonnie Brock was nodding in acknowledgment.

To say that Gage looked displeased was stating the matter mildly.

I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen his brow so thunderous.

But Bonnie Brock cut him off before he could give voice to his anger.

“Dinna gnash yer teeth. I was just leavin’.” His gaze dipped to Gage’s arm still cradled in its sling, and I braced for some disparaging remark, but his brow merely furrowed as he turned back to me. “Yer wife can fill ye in on what I had tae say.”

With this, he descended the steps and retreated across the garden to the carriage house. Neither Gage nor I spoke until he’d disappeared from sight, the door closing behind him.

“Did you know he would be out here?” Gage demanded. “I thought you were resting.”

I scowled at him, before turning toward the French doors. “Let’s adjourn to somewhere more private, shall we?”

His mouth clamped shut around whatever words he was about to utter as he followed me into the morning room.

As it was the room where we also ate breakfast, there was a round pedestal table and a Hepplewhite sideboard, but also a double settee tucked into the one corner.

From its vantage you could view the garden through the low window.

I closed the door to the chamber before settling on the settee, spreading my smoke blue skirts wide as Gage began to fume, pacing back and forth in the tight space.

“Kiera, I have asked you repeatedly not to speak with that blackguard alone. He may have saved us from those vaults, but he’s still not to be trusted. I…”

I held up my hand, cutting him off, for I’d had quite enough.

“Sebastian, don’t you dare vent your spleen on me just because you were denied your chance to tear into Bonnie Brock.

” I glanced toward the door. “Or is it those supercilious gawkers you’re so put out with?

” I dipped my head toward his arm. “I’m sure that isn’t helping your temper either. ”

He stood still, frowning down at me in all but confirmation.

“Now, to answer your question. No, I did not know he would be there. I simply needed some air, and when I stepped out, he appeared.”

“You should have…”

“There was no staff nearby.” I raised my voice to speak over him.

“And I wasn’t about to shout for someone and alert all our callers to what was going on.

” I glared up at him. “And before you suggest it, I had absolutely no intention of turning and running away from him. I’m no coward, and he’s not some leper to be shunned or a monster to be feared.

” I gestured toward the French doors. “I stood sensibly by the house, so that someone could hear me if I did require assistance, and made him come to me. I do believe that was more than adequate,” I challenged, arching my chin upward.

Gage’s expression remained stubbornly affronted for a few moments longer before he relented with a weary sigh, sinking down onto the settee beside me.

He scraped his fingers back through his hair using his uninjured arm.

“You’re right. It is.” He turned to me, his pale blue eyes stark with regret.

“I apologize. But when I saw Kincaid…” He heaved another sigh, shaking his head.

I pressed my hand to his where it now rested against his knee, able to guess what he couldn’t put into words. Gently, I touched his chin, turning his face toward me. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and I could see brackets of pain about his mouth. “Your arm is aching terribly, isn’t it?”

He looked as if he was about to argue, but instead nodded reluctantly. “And when I cough…” His chest moved up and down as he stifled a wheeze and then gritted his teeth. “It makes it worse.”

“Perhaps you should take that laudanum and lie down for a time.”

“Maybe so.” His agreement to take something he hated revealed the extent of his pain. “But first, tell me what Kincaid told you.”

I relayed his words as swiftly and succinctly as possible, not wanting him to change his mind about the laudanum. However, he didn’t react with the amount of alarm I was expecting, and I told him so.

“Did you question Kincaid about the source of this information?”

“Well, no,” I stammered. “There wasn’t time, and I didn’t think he would share it with me anyway.” I studied his unhappy expression. “Why? You think he’s lying? He’s never shared false information with us before.”

“Perhaps not lying, but misinformed or…misinterpreted.” He shook his head, clasping my hand. “It must have been an accident, Kiera. I simply don’t see how it could have been deliberate. Sabotaging the integrity of the structure of a building like that…it’s difficult.”

“But not impossible.”

“No.” He drew the word out uncertainly. “But highly, highly unlikely. Kincaid simply must have misunderstood.”

My husband’s certainty gave me pause. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

“Then…it was an accident.”

“Yes.” His hand squeezed mine. “A horrible, terrible accident, but an accident nonetheless.”

I nodded slowly, unable to summon the same confidence that he had. I should have known Gage would sense my reticence.

“Kincaid probably saw it as an excuse to call on you again, and he leapt at the chance before fully comprehending matters.”

This made a certain amount of sense to me. Just a few days prior, hadn’t I wished for just such a reason to ensure that Bonnie Brock was well? Perhaps he had harbored a similar desire. One that monitoring me from afar could not abate.

Gage lifted the hand of his uninjured arm to brush aside a stray hair that had fallen over my eye. “Whatever the case, I’m sure the matter will be made clear soon enough.”

I returned his faint smile, hoping he was right. The alternative was simply too awful.

But just then, there were more pressing matters. Namely getting my husband settled comfortably in bed and dosed with laudanum.

“Come,” I urged him, both relieved and concerned when he complied.

“Don’t send for Dr. Graham,” Gage requested, deducing the direction of my thoughts. “I will be well enough once I rest.”

When I didn’t immediately agree, he pulled me tighter to his side. “If you’re worried, just stay with me. Then you’ll know what I’m saying is true.”

I eyed him askance, opening the door to the morning room. “Is this your way of convincing me to rest, too?”

“I never said you had to rest,” he protested, but then continued in a woeful voice. “Though I do slumber more deeply with you by my side. I’m afraid I’ve simply grown accustomed to your presence. It soothes me.”

I chuckled, knowing when I’d been bested. For how could I resist such persuasion? In any case, I’d already intended to lie down for a short time after I looked in on Emma.

He tilted his head toward mine. “Shall I say more?”

“No. That was quite sufficient wheedling,” I teased. “Just don’t complain when I steal all the covers.”

“After the laudanum, I’m unlikely to care about much of anything, let alone whether I’m covered or not.”