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M iss Gabrielle Lindsay, Britain’s only practicing female animal doctor, crossed her arms and raised a brow at her unrelenting uncle, who sat across the desk from her. “I am sorry, you want me to what?”

“Nae need to apologize?—”

“You know precisely what I mean.” Gabby gave him a look .

The arsehole chuckled. “I want ye to consider taking this case for me,” Bull repeated, that stupid charming grin on his lips.

Gabby sighed. “Yes, I was afraid that is where you were going with that.” Unfortunately, Bull rarely made an offer—or asked a favor—until he was certain he knew what the answer would be.

In this case, it meant there was bound to be something truly tempting about the case. Bother. “And why would I agree? ”

“Because ye love me and want my agency to be successful? Also, Queen and country and all that?”

Pretending to roll her eyes, Gabby gave him the response she knew he expected. Honestly, Bull’s schemes were often more interesting than not, and an undeniable relief from her consistent hobby of Not Being Paid The Same Amount As a Man Would For Curing The Same Animal Illnesses.

She and her twin brother Hunter were only a handful of years younger than Bull, and since all of them were illegitimate scions of the great Lindsay family, had grown up with a natural affinity toward one another.

Well. At least a Probably Not Going To Bash The Other One Over The Head When They Ask For Ridiculous Favors unspoken mutual peace treaty.

And this definitely wasn’t the first time Bull had recruited one or both of them to work some case that had been assigned to Bull’s detective agency.

“What are the details, anyway?” she asked, pretending only mild interest.

Bull, of course, could see right through her.

Gray eyes sparkling with excitement, he leaned across the desk, those never-still fingers of his tapping a rhythm on the dark wood. “One of the Crown’s secret agents—turned traitor.”

Gabby’s eyes grew round. “ Oh ,” she breathed.

And Bull nodded firmly. “I thought ye’d find that interesting.”

Yes.

Yes, she would .

Twenty years ago, Uncle Rourke—the man who’d raised her, and Bull’s only surviving brother—had been an agent for the Crown, a notorious and rather successful assassin.

Only after he’d been ordered to execute his best friend had he—thanks to the help and evidence of Aunt Sophia—learned that their leader, the man who’d put together their loyal band of agents, had never really been working for the Crown.

Rourke and his friends had spent years bringing down Blackrose and clearing their names. The family had never grown fond of traitors.

Yes, a spy-turned-traitor was not only terribly interesting to Gabby’s family, but someone who deserved everything he got. “Tell me more,” she all but growled.

Nodding in satisfaction, Bull sat back in his chair. “His name is Cassian Grey. He worked for—ah…for the Crown.”

“Princess Louise’s spy network, you mean?” Gabby admitted she took secret delight in the way surprise flashed in his eyes. “I have been paying attention, you know, I have half a brain. And you were the one who taught me how helpful it can be to snoop through correspondence.”

“Ye’ve read my mail?” Bull gaped.

“I really am quite bright. That trick with the steam? I paid attention.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, releasing a defeated sigh… But not before Gabby saw his lips twitching.

“It’s a damn good thing I trust ye, Gabs.

” Before she could object to the nickname, he continued.

“Aye, the Princess Louise is our patroness, the source of the cases we receive from the Crown. Her network of agents is more than capable, but sometimes she needs an outsider…someone no’ affiliated with the Crown. ”

“And not subject to the same rules and laws?” She twitched a brow at Bull’s low curse.

“Ye really are bright.”

Gabby snorted, secretly pleased—though it was hard not to be offended that this was the first time he’d noticed.

She was eight and twenty, after all. “So this Mr. Grey was part of the Princess’s network.

If he is known to her agents, he would know them as well, making it impossible for one of them to investigate him.

It is the problem of Blackrose all over again.

That is why she brought the case to you. ”

“Exactly.” Bull nodded, the fingers of his right hand flicking through a complicated pattern.

His pickpocketing skills were legendary.

“He and his team—three men—were on assignment in Belfast when something went wrong. The Princess assumes it was pre-planned, but wants to ken how much was his idea, and if his men were in on it as well.”

“What happened?” She was beginning to dread the answer.

“They died,” Bull explained grimly. “They were deep undercover with the Irish nationalists, and had set up a hand off that would...” He shook his head.

“I can tell ye more if ye accept the case. But they were passing faulty explosives in exchange for a shite-ton—in exchange for a lot of money…and something went wrong. All three of his men were killed, the exchange compromised. ”

He’d killed his own men out of greed? Or had he, at some point, begun to believe in the ideals of the I.P.B., and sabotaged his team on purpose?

Neither option bore thinking about.

“Dear Lord,” Gabby whispered, gripping her fingers together, her throat dry. The thought of him ordering his own men to their deaths was sickening. “And he got away unscathed with the money? Where is he now? I assume you know.”

Interestingly, Bull hesitated. “I didnae say he was unscathed. He…” Abruptly, he sat forward and began to riffle through the stack of papers on his desk.

“Aye, here it is. He lost his left leg below the knee. His foot was badly damaged in what appeared to be an explosion, and the doctors amputated.”

Gabby swallowed. Uncle Rourke still limped because of a firebombing. “That seems…extensive. His superiors believe he blew his own leg off to abscond with the money?”

Bull shrugged and tapped the paper. “They suspect the plan went awry. The money is gone. So is the man. And to answer your other question, he’s been recuperating at Inverlochy Castle, up near Fort William.”

“He has a castle ?” Despite her earlier disgust at the details of the case, Gabby was beginning to question the logic. “Why would he kill his own men for money if he has a castle ?”

Bull was shaking his head. “His uncle by marriage has a castle. Sir Richard Biggenpans, eccentric landowner, world-traveler, and menagerie-builder. ”

Menagerie . “Ah. I suspect we are fast approaching my reason for being here.”

“Bright indeed,” Bull teased, leaning back once more and beaming fondly.

“Aye, Sir Richard and his wife housed—perhaps cared for, I dinnae ken—Cassian Grey’s son while he was on assignment, since his wife’s death.

Grey has retired there, supposedly to spend time with his son and come to terms with his sudden forced retirement?—”

“And unplanned and traitorous leg removal, presumably,” Gabby interrupted dryly. After all, it wasn’t as if the man had diabolically cut off his own foot. Had he?

“ However,” Bull continued as if she hadn’t interjected, “there’s been some rumors of him planning a move to America.”

Oh. That was rather suspicious. Blackrose, the bastard who’d made Uncle Rourke’s life hell, had fled to Boston for this same reason, before they were able to tempt him back.

“Packing up his son and his ill-gotten gains and beginning again in a new country.” This time Gabby did growl, and she didn’t care how unladylike it sounded. “We have to stop him.”

Bull nodded firmly. “Good lass. Aye, that is where ye come in.”

“Sir Richard’s menagerie?”

“He has an extremely large and sick elephant.”

Gabby blinked at that particular combination of words. “I would question if that was a euphemism, but?—”

“The man literally has an elephant. A big one. She is with calf, and the pregnancy is no’ going well. ”

“Bull,” Gabby huffed, tipping to one side enough to plant a hand on her hip, even as her pulse quickened. “There is a vast difference between being sick and being pregnant.”

Her uncle-turned-friend waved airily. “I treasure my ignorance when it comes to pachyderm reproduction. The point is, he acquired a pregnant elephant, his elephant is no’ thriving, and before he ends up with two dead elephants, he’s put out a call for help.”

“And you just happen to monitor the personal ads for desperate calls for aid for pregnant land mammals?”

Bull likely hoped that picking up his papers and shifting them around would hide his broad smile, but he was unsuccessful. “My contact at the London Zoo?—”

Gabby suddenly lunged forward to grab the edge of the desk. “You have a contact at the London Zoo? And you never mentioned him?”

“Of course.” Bull winked, displaying the same charm that won him friends from all walks of life—Princesses to zookeepers to dockworkers. “Who do ye think got ye in to see that ocelot autopsy for yer birthday? Especially after ye were blackballed over the whole hippo incident.”

Huffing, she pointed a stern finger at Bull. “It would not have been an incident if they had only accepted my insight. The poor thing was clearly unwell, and if they had not refused my help, I would not have been relegated to hiding in that wheelbarrow of cabbages to sneak in.”

Her uncle rolled his eyes. “I’m no’ denying that, Gabs, I’m just saying it took a bit of finesse to convince my contact to let ye back in for yer birthday autopsy—which is a phrase I never thought I’d have cause to say. ”

Sighing, Gabby slumped back in the chair.

The old-fashioned sticks-in-the-mud who ran the zoo had refused to believe a female might have the same—no, better —veterinary skills as a man.

Wasn’t that just the story of her life? Was she going to spend the rest of her years overlooked and insulted, surrounded by men who refused to respect her intellect?

Was her life going to be this dull ?