Page 57 of For a Scot's Heart Only

Mary shivered. At least Miss Mitchell was honest, but the harlot wasn’t the only woman to be wary of. Mary took a deep breath, a nasty picture forming. The Countess of Denton once had Cecelia tossed into Gate House prison on flimsy charges. Lord Ranleigh might be inclined to do the same to her.

If she was caught...

She paced the room, exhilarated and scared all at once. Four years the league had hunted for the gold. Four years!

Why not seize this chance?

Miss Mitchell was checking a faux heart-shapedmole on her cheek in a small mirror on the wall. “I wouldn’t dally if I were you. The Betty Burke painting was changed this morning.” She glanced sideways at Mary. “That’s how they communicate. When the painting of her on a bed is hung in the gaming room, the secret society meets a week later.”

Mary fisted a hand in victory.That painting.“I knew it.”

Miss Mitchell’s smile spread, feline and satisfied.

“Does this mean you and I have an understanding?”

“Yes, yes.” Mary batted the air. “A trunk’s worth of supplies and a rudimentary education in corset making.”

“Good. Meet me at midnight at the alcove beside the Red Rose room.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. You want the treasure, don’t you?”

Hands clasped tightly at her waist, Mary nodded. “I do.”

“Then it must be tonight. I’ll show you where Lord Ranleigh hides his ledgers and such.” Miss Mitchell dragged the doorway curtain aside. “After that, you’re on your own.”

Chapter Fourteen

Mary tidied her workroom, all the possibilities simmering. It was smart of the secret society to separate the treasure. Smoothing the painted silk, she tried to think like them. If she belonged to this nameless society, where would she hide the gold? A worthy question, yet another nettled her.

Why hold on to the gold this long?

It’d been seven years since France left the treasure on Scottish shores. She fixated on the silk’s floral design, answers eluding her. This particular point was something to—

“There’s a hack for you.”

Mary nearly jumped out of her skin. Margaret stood in the doorway, perplexed.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but there’s a hack parked in front of our shop window,” Margaret said, the yellow curtain falling behind her. “I tried to send him away, but the driver informed me that he cannot leave without you.”

She touched her apron pocket. Mr. West’s note.

“I’ll send him away.”

Margaret cocked her head. “You’re not at all surprised by this.”

“No.”

She tried to duck back into her thoughts but determined heel strikes approached. Margaret would not let this rest.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Mary flipped the silk, one fold, then two.

“Mary...”

She flipped the silk into a third fold and set it on the table. It wouldn’t hurt to share the astonishing invitation. “Mr. West has asked that I join him today.”