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“Your work for the Crown.” Gabby tried to sound knowing as she nodded. “You were doing vital work.” Evil work , if he’d been a traitor all this time.

“I spent most of my time…in other countries. Abroad, far away. Away from normal means of communication.”

Undercover . She nodded again, and this time tried a little stroke of his arm. She told herself she was trying to keep him calm, make it look as if she believed him. Not because she wanted to feel his corded muscles.

To her surprise, Cassian offered more. “I was no’ in Gus’s life often…when he was growing up. Being back now has caused him…confusion.”

She’d seen that confusion in the stables, and the anger too. The strange thing was, she was seeing the mirror of it now. “He is still young,” Gabby offered softly. “He will grow to understand your reasons for being away.”

It wasn’t until Cassian turned hope-tinged blue eyes her way that she realized she’d said it to comfort him. To bring him hope.

And without any thought of his treachery.

“Do ye…” With a little snort, he looked away, but made no move to remove his arm from her touch.

“He says he hates me. I can understand why, but I’d hoped…

” He shook his head, his shoulders lifting briefly in what might have been a laugh.

“I’m trying to do what’s best for him, but I’m no’ a verra good father, I’m afraid. ”

Really? Gabby hummed. Murderers and traitors don’t make good fathers?

But it was obvious that he genuinely loved Augustus and wanted what was best for the boy, no matter what the future brought.

Did those men he killed, the men who trusted him, have children?

“Everything I have seen of you says the opposite, Cassian. You might not know what you are doing, but you are trying , which surely must count for something. Perhaps for more.”

There was a flash of bright blue from under his lashes as he glanced at her. “Aye?”

Did he…did he care what she thought? Her fingers tightened on his arm as she swallowed, realizing the enormity of that one syllable.

If he were asking for her opinion, he was showing vulnerability, sharing his struggles. Did he… trust her? Trust her enough to share this small part of himself?

Gabby was struck by the sudden thought that it would be very tempting to trust Cassian’s good intentions. To see the goodness in him .

Is it possible to be a good man and a traitor to one’s country ?

Gabby swallowed her confusion. Now it was her turn to look away so he wouldn’t see her confusion. “He—Augustus is a bright lad, and will learn to enjoy having you in his life. Now that you are home. To stay.”

With a small snort, Cassian pulled his arm from her touch and stepped back. “Inverlochy Castle isnae home . Sir Richard and his wife were my late wife’s relatives, and have given Gus a place here. But I need to…” He glanced toward the door. “I will build my own home. For me and?—”

Why did her heart clench so traitorously at his obvious pain, his willingness to show it to her? “And Gus?” she finished, when he bit off his words.

At her soft question, Cassian’s gaze slammed back into hers.

But she couldn’t help but prod. “When you leave and make your own place in the world, now that you can no longer work for the Secret Service, will you take Gus with you? Take him away from his home and the animals he cares for? Take him away from Sir Richard and Lady Zilphia?”

Cassian’s step away from her might have been a stumble, or it might have been his leg giving out under him. The brief spasm of pain that crossed his face, which he tried to hide, didn’t tell her anything. Her fingers itched to reach for him, to help him .

He is a traitor. Try to remember that .

“What happened to your leg?” she prompted, almost desperate now to keep him here talking. Questions about Gus were clearly off-limits. “Lady Zilphia said it happened on your last mission.” Best not to let on that she knew too much. “Where was it, again?”

A mask of careful neutrality slammed over Cassian’s face.

Stiffly, he inclined his head—not quite a bow, more of an acknowledgement. Without a word, Cassian turned on his good foot and moved in slow, measured steps toward the library door .

“Wait!” she called, hurrying after him. “Cassian, I only meant?—”

“Goodbye, Miss Butcombe,” he ground out, as he yanked the door open. “Enjoy your reading.”

Then he was gone, leaving her alone—barring anyone else hiding in the dark corners—once more.

Sighing, Gabby resisted the urge to scrub a hand over her face. Well, she could enjoy her reading—Lord knows there had to be something about the elephant she could learn without actually examining it.

Now that she’d completely ruined the opportunity to interrogate Cassian Grey, at least she could be useful when it came to poor Elizabeth and her calf.

With another sigh, Gabby scooped up Barnhardt’s opus and threw herself into the not-quite-as-comfortable-as-she’d-hoped chair, even as her nape prickled.

Bull was counting on her. She could either solve the mystery of Cassian Grey, or the elephant.

Because she was beginning to suspect she couldn’t do both.