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“What do you mean?” Henry asked, shifting in his chair so that he could better see the rogue.

“If he was hidin’ anywhere in Auld Reekie…” he used one of the long-standing nicknames for the city of Edinburgh “…I would o’ heard aboot it by noo. Which means either he’s no’ here. Or …” his jaw hardened “…he’s lyin’ low somewhere north o’ the city where my hold isna so strong.”

For Bonnie Brock to verbally admit such, especially in front of these men, was unexpected, making his supposition all the more credible.

“He may yet show himself or return tae the city. If so, we’ll be watchin’ and I’ll alert ye immediately.” He nodded to me and began to turn to go, but Gage stopped him.

“If your men spot him, ask them to detain him.”

This request appeared to shock all of us, including Bonnie Brock, though his reaction was as carefully controlled as the rest of him.

Gage scowled. “We have less than thirty-six hours before Easter worshipers begin filling their churches. If Fletcher is spotted, I don’t want him slipping away before the police or one of us can get to him.

Better to have him restrained than free to continue his plans.

” His voice turned wry as he glared at Bonnie Brock.

“Though I would prefer he arrive to the authorities all in one piece.”

Bonnie Brock easily agreed, though the ruthless twist to his lips gave me pause. “But nay promises.”

Once again, I expected Gage to argue, but he merely tipped his head. “Fair enough.”

With that, Bonnie Brock slipped from the room and was presumably met by Jeffers, who escorted him out. I knew our butler well enough to realize he’d been posted nearby, waiting for the rogue to depart. Jeffers trusted him even less than we did.

“Was that wise?” Henry questioned.

Gage tossed back the last of his whisky. “Maybe not. But whatever trimming Fletcher might receive, I trust it won’t go too far.” His eyes cut to me. “Not when Kincaid wishes to stay in Kiera’s good graces.”

I frowned at this remark, but Gage only arched his eyebrows.

“Then if Fletcher is north of the city—north of here —do we shift our search there?” Henry asked, changing the subject.

Gage sighed. “I suppose, given the time restraints, it gives us a smaller portion of the city to focus on tomorrow.”

The last day before Easter.

My stomach cramped with dread.

· · ·

“M’lady.”

I attempted to roll away from the annoying hiss in my ear, but something restrained me, pulling me back.

“M’lady!”

I blinked open my eyes, staring up at Bree in the darkness. Though, it wasn’t complete, I realized. There was a single lit candle resting on the table beside my bed.

“Mr. Rimmer. He’s awake,” she explained, looking from me to Gage, who had also stirred. “Ye must come quickly.”

Alertness shot through my veins as I recalled the events of the past few weeks and our worry over Mr. Rimmer’s continued unconsciousness. Our desperate desire to speak with him.

Bree hurried from the room, leaving the candle behind.

Obviously, she’d noticed Gage’s bare chest and, not unfoundedly, realized he might not be wearing any nightclothes.

I ignored his fumbling to don a pair of trousers and reached for my dressing gown.

A few moments later, we were hurrying down the corridor with the candle toward the open door of the second guest chamber.

Bree sat next to his bed, talking to him. At the sight of us, she rose to cede me the chair. “He’s muzzy,” she cautioned. “But I think he kens where he is and why.”

We’d been warned that when he awoke he might be confused, but over time his mental faculties and any gaps in his memory should improve.

“Mr. Rimmer,” I gasped, sitting down and leaning forward to reach for the hand that lay closest to me. “Do you know who I am?”

He stared up at me through pain-filled eyes. “Lady Darby,” he said faintly.

“Yes,” I replied, relieved to hear his brain wasn’t completely jumbled. “We found you belowstairs at Picardy Place,” I explained, glancing over my shoulder to indicate Gage. “You’d been struck over the head. Do you know who did this to you?”

“Fletcher,” he croaked and then broke off, smacking his lips. I noticed how dry they were and nodded to Bree, who was already moving to pour water into a cup as he continued. “He…came…to talk…to me.”

“About the sabotage?” I guessed.

“About…” his brow tightened “…spyin’ on him.”

His voice cracked at the end, and I urged him to drink some of the water Bree was offering to him. Gage stepped forward to elevate his head and shoulders while Bree held the cup to his lips. After a few sips, Gage lowered Mr. Rimmer back against the pillows.

He was breathing heavily from the effort but managed to wheeze. “Thank you.”

I gave him a few moments to recover before prompting. “Mr. Fletcher thought you were spying on him?”

“Yes.” He tried to shake his head, but stopped, grimacing in pain. “But I wasn’t. Just…happened…to see…his notes. Our papers…got switched.”

Gage’s gaze met mine.

“What notes?” When Mr. Rimmer hesitated, I leaned forward again to grip his hand. “Please, Mr. Rimmer. This could be important.”

He was obviously confused, but he continued nonetheless. “On Adam brothers buildings. Ones they’d designed. I didn’t understand why…he was so upset…I’d seen it.”

The Adam brothers, of course! The famed architects had been Lord Eldin’s uncles. It made perfect sense he would target one of their churches if he was so bent on revenge. On damaging the family’s reputation.

“Was there one in particular you saw?” I pressed, noting he was growing weary. His head would still require time to heal, and I hated to hound him so, but we were running out of time. “Perhaps a church here in Edinburgh?”

“I…I don’t remember.”

Gage and I both tried asking him several more questions, but he either didn’t know or was too tired and confused to answer them.

Regardless, the Adam brothers’ connection was something we could work with.

So after insisting Mr. Rimmer take a few more sips of water with Gage and Bree’s assistance, we allowed him to fall back asleep, leaving him to Bree’s competent care.

Our physician was due the following morning to look in on the patient, and I deemed that to be soon enough to ensure he was recovering normally.

Neither Gage nor I bothered to dress as we hurried downstairs to the library, too anxious to scour the inventory of information Henry had compiled on local churches.

I believed I recalled him listing the architects.

Gage lit more candles while I sat at the long table, dividing the pages into two stacks.

When Trevor stumbled in, rubbing his eyes and demanding to know what on earth we were doing, I divided the pages again. Once we’d explained Mr. Rimmer’s revelation, he sat down at the table with no more grumbling, diving into the task alongside us.

A short time later, I was startled when a hand reached over my shoulder to set a cup of tea before me.

I peered blearily up at Jeffers, trying to decide if he was truly there or I’d conjured him with my silent wish for something warm and invigorating in the cold library.

Trevor had stoked up the fire in the hearth, but there was still a decided chill in the room.

“Miss McEvoy rang down to the kitchens for something for Mr. Rimmer,” he said. “She explained the situation.”

Despite the fact Gage, Trevor, and I were dressed in nightclothes and wrappers—or in Gage’s case, a hodgepodge of random apparel—Jeffers was as immaculately attired as always. I would have believed he’d slept that way but for the lack of wrinkles.

Lifting the cup of steaming brew to take a sip, I returned to the inventory with renewed vigor and was soon rewarded for my efforts. I discovered two churches in Edinburgh with a connection to one of the Adam brothers. Both of which were rather disconcertingly close to home.

After finishing reviewing the other listings in my stack, I sat stewing over the two buildings I’d stumbled across which met our criteria and tried not to worry that Henry’s inventory was incomplete.

Or that we might be wrong about Fletcher targeting a church.

All we could do was work with the information that had been given to us.

The clues we’d uncovered thus far all seemed to point to this.

Gage was next to finish, straightening with a long sigh and a shake of his head when he found me watching him.

His gaze dipped to the two pages I’d pulled from the stack, but I held up a finger and nodded to Trevor.

Jeffers approached to refill my tea, and I sat cradling the warm cup between my two hands to warm them.

Finally, Trevor looked up, grunting in disappointment, but his eyes swiftly lit with interest when he found us observing him in evident impatience.

“St. George’s Church in Charlotte Square,” I stated, a chill running down my spine as I gestured to one of the papers on the table before me.

For that was where we usually attended along with Alana and her family.

“And St. George’s Chapel in York Place.” Which stood just a few short blocks east, between us and Lord Eldin’s town house on Picardy Place.

“Good God!” Gage exclaimed, for we’d attended there upon occasion as well.

Both having been raised in the Anglican church, we probably rightly should have attended St. George’s Chapel more often.

But I’d taken to attending St. George’s Church in Charlotte Square, which was Presbyterian, with Alana and Philip when I lived with them, and so more often we worshiped with them there.

Particularly since we resided in Edinburgh for only a few months each year.

“But see here, Robert Adam created the original design for St. George’s in Charlotte Square, but it was then redesigned by Robert Reid based off the originals.

” I turned to the second page. “However, St. George’s Chapel in York Place was exclusively designed by Robert’s younger brother, James Adam.

Which, to me, makes it the more likely target from what we know about Fletcher. ”

Both men were silent for a few moments, reading over Henry’s notes and considering my conclusions. “Yes, that makes sense,” Trevor conceded. “But…what if you’re wrong?”

There was no need to elaborate. I was aware of the consequences. But what could we do but make the most logical leap of deduction?

Gage seemed to understand this as well. “We might be wrong about all of it. But we’ve run out of time and options.” He pushed to his feet. “With enough men, we should be able to monitor both buildings and hope Fletcher comes slinking out of the shadows for us to catch him.”

“Regardless, we are forbidding Alana and her family from attending Easter service tomorrow morning unless Fletcher is caught,” Trevor informed me stridently as Gage crossed the room toward the door.

“Agreed,” I said, thinking I might just resort to standing before the door and barring anyone entrance if Fletcher remained elusive. “Gage, where are you going?”

“To warn Maclean.”

I glanced at the clock. “At a quarter to four in the morning?”

“He’ll want to know immediately.” He paused to speak over his shoulder. “I’ll take Anderley with me.”

Before I could say anything more, he was gone, presumably headed upstairs to change into more appropriate attire. I bit my bottom lip, trying to decide whether to go after him and voice the question hovering at the back of my throat.

Trevor seemed to already deduce it, turning it back on me. “Shouldn’t you send word to Kincaid?”

With Gage gone for who knew how long, and Trevor’s evident approval, I decided to take matters into my own hands, moving toward Gage’s desk. “Yes. Yes, I should.”