Page 27 of Highland Crown
“And how is your memory, ma’am? Do you recall the last time we met?”
Isabella kept her face composed and impassive even as beads of sweat began to run down her spine. She’d lived for six years in Edinburgh. During that time, she’d come in contact with a number of English officers at social events and at the university. She didn’t remember Lieutenant Hudson.
“We’ve never met. I would certainly recall.”
The officer tsked his disappointment. It was clear he knew who she was. He trailed his hand along the chairs as he sauntered toward her, but Isabella knew there was nothing casual about this man. She knew what lay ahead. She also knew these men would show no mercy. She braced herself for the worst, for she would not be telling him what he wanted to hear.
“Never is so definite.” He paused at the corner of the table. “I can even tell you when we met.”
He began counting slowly on his fingers. Isabella understood his deliberateness. Each tick was intended to intensify her nervousness. He was about to place herneck on the execution block, but first he wanted her to see the glint of the sun on the blade and feel the sharpness of the edge.
“Twelve weeks,” he said finally, dropping his hands to his side.
The day of the attack on their house. Tending to Archibald, she had been blind to the faces of the soldiers charging in. And later, she’d thought of nothing but getting Maisie and Morrigan safely away. Anger now formed like a fist in her chest. He had been there.
“Your home on Infirmary Street had a fine clinic, did it not?” he taunted.
She bit her tongue and looked into the man’s coldly assessing eyes. He could have been the officer in charge of the raid. He could have been the soldier who had pulled the trigger that killed Archibald. The blood of all those who’d been murdered that day and in the days that followed were on this man’s hands.
“I was hoping for an introduction,” he said with false affability. “You were quite inspiring, leading your distraught stepdaughter calmly through the violence while we restored order to that gang of riotous traitors.”
Those were the most difficult steps she’d taken in her entire life. Dragging the nearly hysterical Morrigan away while she knew her duty was to stay and fight to keep her patients alive.
“But then you disappeared. Were you in a hurry to hide that rather volatile stepdaughter or your quiet, sensible younger sister?”
Isabella wanted to scream. Did he have them? How could he know how different the two girls were unless he’d already arrested them?
“I can understand your impulse. Such beautiful young women. But what a foolish notion, to think that any of you could put yourselves beyond the reach of His Majesty’s justice.”
No, she reasoned. The information about the girls could have come from servants and neighbors, as well as from Archibald’s colleagues at the university.
But why, then, this game of cat and mouse? If he was certain of her identity, then why not simply arrest her and drag her off to Fort George and from there to Edinburgh?
Unless he wasn’t sure.
Another thought occurred to her. Perhaps he didn’t think he and his sergeant were sufficient to escort the notorious traitor to prison. He had to know the radical dissenters would be loath to see her in the hands of the British authorities.
She’d seen no other soldiers in the tavern. Perhaps he was waiting for help to arrive. The sergeant still stood by their bags. She wondered if they thought she could be carrying weapons. Another punishable crime.
“I have no recollection of you. We came here to see John Gordon. So unless you know his whereabouts, our business is finished.”
She turned to Jean and motioned toward the door. But before either of them could grab their bags, the sergeant stepped forward and took hold of Jean’s arm in a bruising grip.
“Letgoof her! Thisinstant!”
Isabella’s bark was commanding enough to cause Davidson to release the old woman’s arm and take an involuntary step back.
“But I do know of John Gordon’s whereabouts,” Lieutenant Hudson said icily, unaffected by Isabella’s wrath. “He was arrested this morning and is on his way to Fort George at this very moment.”
“Arrested?” Jean gasped, having found her voice. “On what charge?”
“Assisting in the flight of an individual wanted for high treason.”
All of Isabella’s fears ignited within her like some molten fireball. To protect the girls, she’d wished to be kept ignorant of their hiding place. But now, John Gordon’s arrest exposed everyone. She thought of Sir Walter and wondered if he ever imagined that by assisting her, he was putting himself at odds with the same king who’d just knighted him.
“Treason?” Jean wailed. “We’re simple, honest folk. What do we know of treason? Who could my nephew know that would be involved in such nonsense?”
Isabella’s mind was on the two people who mattered most to her, the ones she’d sworn to protect. And now she was helpless to do anything for them. Neither Maisie nor Morrigan had any charges against them. But she knew that wouldn’t stop these brutes from using them to force damning information out of her.
