Page 73 of Romancing the Scot
The lord justice’s hesitation was intimidating. In spite of the difference in rank, there was no question in Grace’s mind that the viscount was in charge here.
Hugh introduced her as “Miss Grace Ware,” but his words were clipped, and his anger was palpable.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” he snapped, turning away from the earl.
“If you have just a moment to spare, my business is quite important. You see, my—”
Hugh cut him off. “I’ve just told you this is not the time, Nithsdale. You think your business is always paramount in importance, but I am at present engaged in official business.”
Grace marveled at Nithsdale’s change in attitude. He suddenly looked like an errant, groveling schoolboy asking the master for permission to relinquish his dunce cap and rejoin the class.
“If you could sparejusta moment?” he persisted meekly. “This pertains to Mrs. Douglas.”
Hugh clenched and unclenched his fists, glaring at Nithsdale. “Say it.”
The earl looked even less sure of himself, but she could see he was already in too deep.
“Perhaps if Truscott and Miss Grace would excuse us for a moment?”
Hugh steered Nithsdale a few steps away, but they were still near enough that she could hear their conversation.
The earl fumbled with his words for a moment. “Pray, take no offence, but I need to ask you what you said to the woman.”
“Bloody hell,” Hugh growled.
“I apologize that I’ve caught you at a bad time.” Nithsdale glanced at the jail door. “But . . . well, my wife is all in a dither. Her friend returned from Baronsford yesterday in a bit of a huff, where I’m told she spoke with you, and then packed her bags and left!”
“Left where?” Hugh asked sharply.
“I don’t really know. London, I think. The woman made some excuse about being called to help with some fashion crisis or other. Some letter had arrived, she said. But no letter came for her, so the whole thing is a mystery to me. In any event, the woman went off, Lady Nithsdale is all at sixes and sevens. So here I am, chasing shadows while the best salmon run the Tweed has seen in years is happening without me. Again, I apologize for detaining you, m’lord, but please understand my position. My wife . . .”
Why the hasty departure, Grace thought, unless Mrs. Douglas was behind the attack.
“Did she travel with servants?” Hugh asked.
“Of course. Several.”
“A manservant?”
Nithsdale stared for a moment, then thought about the question. “Let me see. Yes, a driver and a manservant, along with her maid.”
“What did the manservant look like?”
“See here, I don’t know that I ever looked twice at the man.”
“Think, Nithsdale.”
“We should speak with my driver. He should . . .” The earl paused nervously. “Wait, now that I think of it, there was one thing I recall. The man had a cast in one eye. Couldn’t tell if he was looking at you or looking at something behind you. Bloody annoying, I should think.”
Chapter 25
Schemes. Abduction. Possibly even murder. All for a diamond.
Night had fallen by the time they left the village to return to Baronsford. After Lord Nithsdale had scurried off to his chariot and departed, Hugh had excused himself and gone into the bailiff’s house. While they waited, Grace had accompanied Truscott to the inn where she nibbled at something while the estate manager dined and they had a chance to talk.
Now, with Truscott and the rest of the Baronsford men following along in carts and on the horseback, Grace sat beside Hugh as the carriage rolled along the wooded lane, surrounded by darkness. Far ahead, she could see a lamp swinging in the hand of one of the grooms who’d accompanied Truscott to the mines.
Grace had so many questions. She’d waited for an opportunity like this, where the others wouldn’t hear them, but Hugh was deep in thought.
