Page 72 of Romancing the Scot
Grace looked through the small, barred window in the door of the cell.
They were definitely the three men who attacked her and Darby on the lane. The leader, with the distinctiveMtattooed on his hand, was standing beneath the high window, scowling at the others. The one who’d come at her sat on a cot. The man who kicked Darby crouched in a corner, staring at nothing.
She didn’t want to stay here one moment longer than she had to. She was satisfied that they’d caught the right ones.
After their ride into the village and all that was said by the man standing beside her, Grace wanted this business finished, but there was no chance of that until they knew for certain the motive behind the attack. Hugh touched her elbow and she nodded. He had the look of a leashed hound. He wanted answers.
He led her outside the jail, where Truscott waited. The other Baronsford men were milling about near the market cross and lounging at the corner by the George Inn.
“How did you find them?” Hugh asked.
Truscott sent Grace a look. “We went to the limestone mine and talked to the operator. As bad luck would have it, the mine was shut down for the past week. A partial cave-in of one of the tunnels. We couldn’t narrow it down at all because no one was working but a wee crew shoring up the works. They started operations again just this morning.”
“And no one knew anything?” Hugh pressed.
“While we were talking to the operator, one of the foremen came in. He said that there was a brawl between two fellows last night.” Truscott looked at Hugh. “And not one of your bare-knuckle bouts. The lads had been gambling at cards fairly heavily earlier in the week, as they tend to do when the mine is shut down. One of them lost a tidy sum to another, and when the winner wanted to collect, the other fellow said he’d pay him when he got back from doing a ‘big job’ up by Melrose. Turns out the job didn’t work out the way he’d hoped, and when he came back last night, he didn’t have the money to pay his debt.”
“We know what the ‘big job’ was,” Hugh put in.
“They called the man out of the mine,” Truscott continued. “As soon as he saw us, he ran for it and then fought like the devil when we caught him. He gave us an earful about laying hands on an innocent working man, but soon enough he was singing like a magpie.”
“Did he give up the other two?” Hugh asked.
“He did. His confederates were still in the mine, and the operator brought them out, as well. Once we had all three, two of them pointed their fingers at the one with theMbrand—who goes by the name Quint—as the ringleader.”
Hugh glanced back at the jail door, looking like he was ready to go back in there. “Did they tell you anything?”
“The two had plenty to say, but Quint is a hard one.”
“What reason did they give for the attack?” Hugh pressed. “Why come here and wait on a country lane? They’d be fools to call that a big job.”
Grace could see he was growing angrier by the minute.
“That’s the most interesting part,” Truscott continued. “They said Quint’s brother, a manservant, came to him with the offer of good money to snatch a particular woman and deliver her to a spot on the Jedburgh road just south of Melrose. They were paid a few shillings up front, and they were to get equal shares of fifteen pounds on delivery.”
“A manservant to whom?” Hugh demanded.
“They didn’t know, and Quint has yet to talk. The two described him, though. Said he was tall and had a cast in his right eye.”
Grace knew that no manservant would be paying that much money for her abduction. He had to be acting on behalf of his master.
“I’ll have the bailiff search out every estate from Berwick to Edinburgh,” Hugh said to her. “We’ll find out who was behind this. Until then . . .”
A carriage drawn by four horses clattered into the village at high speed. As the chariot raced past them, Grace saw a round face peering from the window suddenly cry out to the driver to stop.
No sooner had the driver reined in his team than a rotund gentleman leaped from the carriage and hurried back to where they were standing. Hugh’s face darkened as the man approached.
“Lord Greysteil,” the man called. “I was just at Baronsford. Your sister told me I would find you here.”
“Lord Nithsdale,” Hugh replied in an icy tone.
Lady Nithsdale’s husband, Grace thought. The other half, for better or for worse.
“I need a moment to speak with you, if you can spare—”
“We’re busy,” Hugh growled threateningly. “This is not the time.”
Nithsdale took an involuntary step back, then seemed to notice for the first time that the viscount was not alone. He nodded to Truscott and glanced at Grace. “Oh, is this . . . ? Would your lordship be so kind as to introduce your guest?”
