Page 136 of For a Scot's Heart Only

Two days later...

Gun Wharf was a useful place to give a countess and a lord their comeuppance. Skies roiled an unfriendly gray to match weathered wood underfoot. Even the Thames matched the mood, its surface like pewter.

Thomas sidled up to the future Mrs. West, his greatcoat swirling around tar-spattered jackboots. Docks and ships were in his blood, but the sea was calling. It whispered of new adventures of love and marriage. He was keeping an eye on Mary. She was too pale, and her rich, dark hair only emphasized this.

“Everyone’s in place.” He fixed a bit of lace on her cloak which the wind had turned over. “Are you ready for this?”

“Very much. This marks a new beginning.” Her mouth softened and tears threatened to come. “And I need to hug Margaret.”

Ranleigh had dug in his heels. No papers, no sister.

“You will hug your sister today,” he said.

Thomas felt a grin expanding. He was looking forward to this. At least Ranleigh had perfect timing; his carriage came jiggling over Gun Wharf. It pleased Thomas, seeing Ranleigh’s head bobbling uncomfortably through the window. When the prancing bays stopped, a carriage door opened. Margaret flew out of it and ran to her sister.

“Mary!” The younger Miss Fletcher’s eyes lit with joy.

They embraced, parting a few seconds, touching cheeks, shoulders, and embracing again amidst relieved laughs.

“As you can see, your sister is in excellent health.” This came from Ranleigh, strolling across Gun Wharf as if it were St. James Square.

“Thank you, my lord,” Mary said. To her sister, “We have a carriage if you wish to take shelter.” She pointed at the West family conveyance. “It’s the very brown one. You could tell the driver to take you to Neville House. Aunt Maude and Aunt Flora are waiting for you.”

“That would be lovely.” Margaret’s brow furrowed. “But you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

Mary smoothed her sister’s windblown hair. “I’ll join you in a few minutes. There’s so much I need to share.”

Another hug, and sisterly whispers ensued. When they pulled apart, Margaret’s eyes sparked with mischief at Thomas.

“Very well. I’ll alert Aunt Maude and Aunt Flora that you’re bringing a guest to Neville House.” Margaret pivoted to Ranleigh and curtseyed. “My lord. Thank you for your gracious kindness these past fewdays. The same for Miss Thelen.” Margaret waved to the henchwoman, who waved back from her perch on the coachman’s seat.

Margaret darted into the West carriage and the conveyance rumbled off. Thomas was watching Miss Thelen. A mild frown played on the Swede’s face. Her head tipped to subtle spots around the wharf. She would notice her surroundings, while Ranleigh was only interested in the leather folio by Mary’s feet.

“Now that the exchange has been made, I’d like to take that.”

Mary picked up the folio. “Not yet.”

“Playing coy, Miss Fletcher?”

“No. I’m waiting for one more person.”

Another carriage came creaking and swaying. Lady Denton. However, she had come with a finely curated collection of henchmen. Four of them, Mr. Wortley, her lead dog, among them. The countess wasted no time jumping from her carriage. She marched forward in breeches, her ruffians like bookends beside her, their pistols out.

“I came against my better judgment, Miss Fletcher. But your note was most enlightening.”

Her attention went to the folio in Mary’s hands.

“Someone with a leather folio broke into my home and took what belongs to me.” Her carmine lips twisted a smile. “Oddly enough, they only took a portion of my money. Then they scattered it in the streets. Would you know anything about that?”

“I’m not interested in such fanciful tales. Insurance, however, is another matter,” Mary said. “Very practical, I think.”

Ranleigh widened his stance, a glower darkening his face. “I don’t like the direction this is going.”

Lady Denton’s mouth pursed. “I’m inclined to agree with my cousin.”

“I don’t care about your likes or your inclinations. My kin and I have suffered under your whims long enough. We’ve been pawns, but not anymore.” Mary was fierce, the wind batting her hems. “Our demands are simple. Leave us alone.”

Lady Denton laughed. “You called me here for that?”