Page 91 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“Athens, is it?” He plastered on a thin smile as he turned to Macie. “The destination for the adventure of a lifetime?”
“That might be a bit of an overstatement, but I don’t doubt the trip would prove exciting.”
Finn rubbed the back of his neck, as if that might ease a sudden ache. “It might be just the thing to inspire another exhibit.”
“I imagine it would,” she said a bit too primly.
“I’d be delighted to accompany you,” Nell said. “And perhaps, to become better acquainted with the professor.”
Macie regarded her friend with a weary expression. “With any luck, you will not be napping if he pays another visit.”
“I had no way of knowing he would pop in,” Nell said.
“Indeed,” Finn said. “It’s not as if it was an ordinary occurrence.”
“Quite true, Mr. Caldwell,” Nell agreed. “Actually, very little that has occurred in recent days has been ordinary.”
“Speaking of ordinary occurrences—we were not expecting you so soon,” Macie said in an obvious effort to change the subject. “Has anything happened?”
“I have uncovered new information on the other professor—the dead one.”
Macie’s eyes widened. “Have you now?”
“My inquiries have turned up some curious facts.” Finn took a seat on a concrete bench and stretched out his legs. “As it turns out, Professor Smythson had been in London for some time now. He was well-known in the city. But not for his scholarly pursuits.”
“What are you saying?” Macie asked.
“He left Scotland nearly three years ago. The man had resigned his position at the university following some sort of scandal.”
“A scandal?” Mrs. Johnstone’s interest seemed to perk up. “Of what nature?”
“He was accused of falsifying certain documents in his research.”
“Do you know what type of documents?” Mrs. Johnstone pressed.
He shook his head. “After he left Scotland, he forged a connection with London’s antiquities dealers. Until his past caught up to him.”
“Oh, dear, how dreadful,” Nell said sympathetically.
“After that, he was known to frequent taverns, bemoaning the bitter turn his life had taken to anyone with a listening ear,” Finn went on. “Murray at the Rogue’s Lair recalled the man being deep in his cups, railing against the injustices he’d suffered.”
Macie looked skeptical. “So, am I to understand you’ve gleaned this information from barkeeps about town?
“That was a starting point,” he explained. “From there, I called in some favors. Ye’d be surprised how much ye can learn about a man in pubs and gambling dens.”
Mrs. Johnstone sat up straighter. “Gambling dens, you say?”
“My sources tell me Professor Smythson had a fondness for wagering. Unfortunately, his luck did not match his enthusiasm.”
Mrs. Johnstone nodded her agreement. “His gambling might have been the root of the scandal. At least in part.”
Macie’s brow creased with fine lines of concern. “None of explains his connection with my grandfather.”
Finn plowed his hand through his hair. Bloody hell, he wished he had the answers she needed. “I found nothing that linked him with yer grandfather. But I’m still searching.”
Her mouth thinned. “Thank you.”
“We will puzzle this out, Macie.” As Cleo jumped onto the bench and stretched into a leisurely sprawl beside him, he rubbed the cat behind her ears, receiving a bliss-filled purr in response. “That much, I can promise ye.”
