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Gabby’s expression softened with genuine concern as she thought about the sick animal waiting for their help.

Poor thing.

It was a shame she couldn’t march up to Inverlochy and offer her services directly. But she’d spent a decade working with and for male veterinarians, and knew she was rarely accepted as having such skills. She was rarely accepted as having any skills, truth be told.

The academic world was very much a man’s world. It had rather put her off men in general.

Oh, she still had urges when she met a particularly handsome one, but knowing that they would never see her value or view her as an equal… She’d long ago decided she had no interest in yoking herself to a man who thought her inferior.

And despite her decision not to marry, she wasn’t completely against a sexual dalliance or two.

It was just that, once she realized she didn’t want to marry an idiot who couldn’t see her value, she also decided she didn’t want to share her body with one.

Perhaps, at some point in the future, she’d meet a man she wanted to start an affair with…

But it hadn’t happened yet.

Because men—Lord love them—tended toward idiocy. And Gabby would always choose to use her mind before she would trust her heart .

Sighing, Gabby shook her head, knowing she should be focusing on the mission and not the patriarchy which demanded her take a supporting role.

Stupid patriarchy . She would trot up to Inverlochy Castle with Hunter, she would help him pretend to be a trained veterinarian, they would find out the truth… and they would bring down Cassian Grey.

A knock at the door startled her but her brother and Bull both stepped back—Bull sliding around one of the bookshelves behind his desk with grace of a man who danced through ballrooms and brawled through barrooms with equal ease, while Hunter put his back to the cold hearth.

Gabby raised her brows at their responses, honed from their missions in the field.

“Not expecting anyone?” she whispered, a touch of amusement in her voice.

Bull’s gaze was on the door as he shook his head sharply. “Come in.”

The man who opened the door was tall and stately, his expression carefully neutral, his demeanor screaming butler. He announced, “The Countess Mistree to see Bull Lindsay, with whom she is, and I quote, damned irritated because he never came to visit her as he promised. Unquote.”

Gabby’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter, imagining the countess chastising Bull like a child.

Bull was already relaxing, his hand falling from inside his jacket—did he always have a weapon hidden in there?—when a frail elderly woman clucked her tongue as she pushed aside her butler and stepped into the room. “Jones, darling, you are not supposed to say that part. ”

“Yes, my lady,” he intoned.

“Oh, go find someone else to annoy.” She flicked her fingers, her smile landing on Gabby. “I am right where I need to be.”

”Of course, my lady. I shall stand in the corridor and stare at the wall, or count the floor tiles until you need me. What fun.” With a dry nod, the butler buttled backwards out the door as Lady Mistree carefully picked her way across the carpet.

Bull was out from behind his desk in a flash, holding out his arm for her. “My dear Eliza, forgive my delay. I’ve been so busy here, I havenae made time for ye.”

“Yes, you foolish boy.” But she was staring at Gabby when she spoke. “You promised to bring your niece to me and here I came, intent on berating you in person, only to discover I am right where I need to be!”

Bull shot Gabby a glance. “My…niece?”

“Gabrielle is technically your niece, is she not?” Lady Mistree sunk into the leather chair opposite Gabby. “Of course, that is not what your mother named you, but it is who you are… here .”

When she leaned across the space between them, Gabby nearly jerked back.

She’d spent a lifetime communing with animals, but polite Society—and particularly old harridans who believed they could ignore polite Society—were still a mystery to her.

She stiffened slightly, her back straight and her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of wariness.

As the elderly woman placed her hand on Gabby’s arm, she was surprised by the strength of the grip.

Earlier this year, Lady Mistree showed up at Cousin Marcia’s wedding, the conclusion of a successful mission which had ended with Marcia married to Baron Tostinham.

There’d been some confusion about a gift Lady Mistree had given Marcia… an inheritance?

“Good afternoon, milady,” Gabby managed, her grin a little weak. “I apologize for my delay as well. I have no excuse.”

In truth, she had forgotten, a most interesting fox cub taking up her attention.

At Marcia’s wedding, the old woman had insisted Gabby come and visit her to receive her inheritance.

Since they weren’t related, and there had been no proof that Lady Mistree’s claims of her own imminent death were substantiated, it had seemed an easy request to ignore.

But now the old woman patted her arm. “Oh, I am certain your excuse is something along the lines of We thought you were a crazy old woman. ” Her smile—still bright after all these years— lit up her wrinkled face, making her eyes sparkle with mischief.

“And you might just be correct. But I still need to see you.”

Properly chagrined, Gabby patted the frail gloved hand on her arm. “How can I help you, my lady?” She leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching the old woman's face, genuinely curious about what had brought her here.

“Oh no, my dear, it is me who will help you .” Lady Mistree winked, then withdrew her hand to fumble for her old-fashioned reticule.

Bull cleared his throat, frowning at the old woman. “Eliza has this nonsensical idea that she’s dying and she’s giving her heirs their inheritance early. ”

“While I am still alive and able to enjoy it, yes,” she agreed, not looking up from her reticule. “It certainly surprises them, which I find delightful.”

“ I find it strange as hell,” Bull muttered. “Eliza, it’s one thing to claim ye want to leave my sister something, but ye dinnae ken Gabby!”

“I did not know your sister either,” the lady agreed, emerging triumphantly clutching a velvet pouch. “But you have told me so much about your family, and your detectives, over the years, dear Bull.” She smiled brightly. “I feel as if I know them all intimately.”

Hunter stepped forward from his position by the hearth, his eyes twinkling with amusement and curiosity. “What about me, milady?”

At his words—he’d been standing in the shadows behind her, and now stepped forward—the old lady gave a shriek and whirled in her chair.

As the three younger people jumped forward, she clutched her heart and began to chuckle. “Are you trying to kill me early, young man?” Still laughing, she waved Bull away and peered up at Hunter. “Ah, I met you at Marcia’s wedding. You are Bull’s nephew, the one raised by that sweet boy Rourke.”

Since her back was to Gabby, she felt free to muffle her own snort with her fingertips.

To think of Uncle Rourke—who’d spent a lifetime in service to his country, assassinating its enemies, only to be betrayed in the worst way and sinking into a depression—as a sweet boy …

it just showed how old Lady Mistree was .

Hunter and Bull weren’t so lucky; since the old woman was staring up at them, they had to keep their real thoughts hidden. Hunter—not as charming as Bull, but good-hearted—bowed over her frail hand.

“Hunter Lindsay, milady. I’m sorry for startling ye.”

Grinning cheekily, she waved away his apology.

“You are just good at hiding—an admirable trait for a detective. Just do not hide too much of yourself, young man, or you will lose the important parts. And I believe I have just the thing to help you remember that.” With those cryptic words, she tapped her reticule mysteriously and turned back to Gabby. “Now, my dear.”

Gabby schooled her expression into one of polite interest. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be with that elephant.

Earlier this year, she’d accompanied her pseudo-cousin, Marcia—Bull’s sister—undercover on a mission to root out a murderer.

Before they’d left, Lady Mistree had gifted Marcia her surprising inheritance; a “magical” pendant that was claimed to contain a sprite or spirit.

It was a preposterous idea, but Gabby could admit that she’d seen the stone glow strangely a time or two.

The real murderer had certainly believed it to be truth, and the little pendant had somehow saved the day.

Now the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the reveal of whatever peculiar gift the old woman had brought this time.

Gabby braced herself, her fingers clutching the arms of her chair, her eyes wide with anticipation and a touch of dread.

Whatever Lady Mistree was about to bestow upon her, Gabby vowed to be polite and gracious.

Surprising her heirs, indeed .

This proved difficult, however, when the old woman—very clearly holding her breath—folded back the flap of the black velvet pouch to dramatically reveal…

A tattered piece of lace.

When Lady Mistree held it out, Gabby had no choice but to reach for it, picking up the small piece of material, stained brown along one edge, with two fingers. Remembering her vow, she smiled brittlely. “Oh, thank you, my lady. It is…”

“Surprising,” admitted Hunter.

“Unique,” corrected his sister primly.

“Underwhelming,” muttered Bull.

Lady Mistree broke into chuckles. “Oh yes, it is underwhelming, is it not?” She gestured Gabby to return it to its black velvet nest. “My dear Reggie and I were gifted it from a woman, a healer , in the American city of New Orleans. Have you ever been, my dear?” At Gabby’s head shake, the older woman sighed wistfully, her eyes locked on the window, although it was clear she gazed across decades.

“A most fascinating city—mysterious and vibrant, dangerous and invigorating all at once. There is so much history, so much terror, so much fierce joy and celebration there. The people who live there are…”

She blinked and looked around, almost surprised to find three sets of young eyes on her, and smiled ruefully. “It is a magical place, with magical healers, and…” She lifted the black velvet cupped in her open palms, upon which the tattered lace sat like a king on his throne. “ Magical talismans. ”

Since the old woman was looking at her, Gabby was careful not to snort. In the end she didn’t have to, because while her expression was schooled to careful interest, her twin brother did all the snorting for her.

“Magic?” Hunter openly scoffed. “Milady, it’s a piece of lace. One that was cut off someone’s cuff last century when it was accidentally dipped in tea—or worse.”

“Indeed,” agreed Lady Mistree, “but that does not mean it is not magical.”

“Perhaps the tea was magical,” Bull murmured, leaning over the talisman.

“My spirits have definitely been revived by a good cuppa. It’s a simple design, but hand-made.

” He pointed to the edges of the threading.

“See? This pattern doesnae repeat, nae exactly. Machines can only mimic symmetry, but a skilled hand makes subtle choices stitch to stitch. And it’s coarser thread than the modern kind—they’ve been spinning finer cotton for the machines for decades now. This is older.”

“All good points,” the old woman agreed amicably, beginning to fold the velvet flaps back over the lace.

“None of which negate my claim.” She turned to Gabby and cleared her throat.

“My dear, the healer who gave this to me—in exchange for a private service I did her—was trustworthy and capable of great miracles, even if she believed in different spirits than I did. She told me that burning this piece of lace with a specific wish or prayer”—she placed it in Gabby’s hands—“can heal any injury. However, it can be used only once, so consider wisely.”

“ Any injury?” came Hunter’s doubting quip from behind her, but Gabby couldn’t look away from the old woman’s bright gaze as she patted the velvet pouch .

“There is healing power here, Gabrielle Lindsay, and I cannot think of a better person to have this heirloom. Your inheritance from me, my dear, is a talisman which can heal one person, one time, of any harm done to them.” She paused, then cocked her head.

“A powerful responsibility too, I think. Use it well, Gabby.”

Gabby’s mouth opened to thank her, but found her throat suddenly dry.

Perhaps it was the sudden feeling of weight from the velvet pouch containing the ancient lace.

Perhaps it was because the gift felt so relevant—had she not dedicated her life to healing?

Perhaps it was the way the old woman seemed so…

certain . Perhaps it was the fact that the sun decided that moment to go behind a cloud, leaving the room darker and colder.

Either way, she suddenly wasn’t quite so keen on mocking the surprising gift the woman had granted her.

The power to heal anything.

“Well!” Suddenly Lady Mistree smacked her hands on the arms of her chair and began to lever herself out of it. Bull jumped to her assistance. “Someone fetch that slacker, Jones. I need to be on my way.”

As she clutched Bull’s arm, she sent Hunter a glare. “And you , young man, will come see me very soon. I have a rock you will like.”

She shuffled for the door, and Hunter and Gabby exchanged glances.

A rock? Hunter mouthed to her, and Gabby had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at her brother’s incredulous expression .

As the door shut behind her, she allowed her giggles to escape.

“A rock is better than some old lace,” she hissed, crumpling the black velvet pouch in her hands and putting it immediately from her mind.

“ Magic talisman ,” she snorted. “I have studied healing with the best animal doctors in the world, and she thinks I need a piece of dirty lace to heal someone?”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself to her feet. “Get your papers, my dear Doctor Butcombe. We have real work to do.”