Page 123 of All Scot and Bothered

“A nameless source of someone employed by Miss Thistledown, herself. I was sent a letter.”

Ramsay had received just such a letter. He’d like to further compare notes with the man, but time was of the essence, especially tonight.

He needed to return to Cecelia.

“What about Henrietta’s?” Ramsay shook him once, hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Ye were there the day the explosive went off.”

“Pure coincidence, I assure you,” Chandler claimed with a quick, disarming smile. “I had been assigned tofollow a certain member of the royal family and was sidetracked by a pretty pair of…” He paused, making a big gesture in front of his chest. “… eyes.” Despite his being seconds from certain death, he winked and flashed a cocksure grin.

Ramsay made a face but released the man, all the while remaining on his guard.

He knew better than to take anyone at his word.

“Now.” Chandler slicked a hand through his ebony hair and sheathed his dagger in his boot. “I’ve told you what I can. Care to share what you know of the Crimson Council?”

“I ken next to nothing about it,” Ramsay said, which was not altogether a lie.

“I have it on good authority that Cecelia Teague might, but she disappeared right about the same time you did,” Chandler said with a sly look toward him. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Ramsay didn’t answer. “If Cecelia is in possession of any information regarding the Crimson Council, that makes her important to ye and to the Crown. Important enough to warrant protection.”

“Categorically,” Chandler agreed. “She’s in no danger from us, but I have it upon good authority that Henrietta was Miss Teague’s maternal aunt, and that she was also in possession of a number of secrets that may not have died with her… some of which could be dangerous to the Home Office and even Buckingham Palace. Did she ever mention anything about such things?”

“Do ye think I’d tell ye if she did?” Ramsay challenged.

“Yes.” Chandler stood straight and met his glare with frank assessment. “Because I know you are a good man, Lord Chief Justice, an honest one.”

“How do ye ken that?”

The emissary adopted a sly look. “I have my ways.”

“I doona ken what sort of man ye are,” Ramsay challenged.

To his surprise, Chandler laughed. “Fair point. Fair point.” He scratched his head and slapped at the earth and leaves on his pants. “Though one didn’t have to be a spy to notice your protective instincts toward the voluptuous Miss Teague.”

“Use more respectful descriptors, or I’ll take that knife from ye and slice yer bollocks off,” Ramsay warned.

“My case in point.” Chandler only grinned again, rubbing at a dark evening stubble and wiping blood from a split in his lip. “May I ask you what brought you both all the way to the edge of Blighty?”

“Two attempts were made upon Cecelia’s life,” he decided to admit to the man.

Interest arrested Chandler’s expression. “The explosion and…”

“And a contingent of the Lord Chancellor’s personal staff who accosted her near her house in Chelsea.”

Chandler’s dark winged brows rose. “You mean, the ones they found dead in the street? Did you have anything to do with that, Lord Chief Justice?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny…” Ramsay picked up his ruined bow and rose, eyeing the man skeptically. “If ye’re after the Crimson Council, why are ye all the way out here?”

“I followed one of the Lord Chancellor’s men.”

Ramsay was stabbed by a jolt of alarm. “Where are they now?”

“Lost them a few miles back,” Chandler said, abashed. “Fucking bog almost claimed my horse.”

“I have to get back and warn Cecelia.” Ramsay claimedhis bow. “Can ye make yer way back to Elphinstone Croft even on yer leg?”

“You didn’t crack me that hard,” Chandler said defensively. “More surprised me, is all. Well done, by the way, it’s not often I’m taken down.”