Page 31 of When the Rogue Returns
After Amalie was born in Edinburgh, Isa had kept private the fact that she had a child because she’d wanted to establish her credentials as a jeweler. It was hard enough for a woman to be taken seriously, and people also assumed that a mother would be more slack with her business than a man would. Only Mr. Gordon knew her situation, and he had no concerns.
Once a few years had passed and Victor hadn’t followed the bread crumbs she’d left for him, she’d had a different reason for caution. After so many years of ignoring her, he would only show up if he wanted something from her. And she’d been determined that the something wouldn’t include her daughter—not until she knew she could trust him.
Keeping her life private hadn’t been hard. She and Amalie lived in a cottage outside Edinburgh proper, and Mr. Gordon was circumspect by nature. Betsy had been with her since Amalie was born, and she, too, was discreet. And Rupert had never mentioned her daughter to Lady Lochlaw.
So, thank God, Victor still didn’t know about Amalie.
But if he kept pressing her friends and acquaintances, he might find out. It was time she reminded her husband thathehad something to hide, too—and if he tried to interfere in her life, he would ruin himself in the process.
Mr. Gordon settled back against the squabs. “Don’t you go worrying about what that fellow will say to Lady Lochlaw. I made sure that he understood how things were with you and his lordship.”
Oh, dear. “What did you tell him?”
“That the two of you were in love, of course.”
“Mr. Gordon!”
Her old friend thrust out his chin. “Well, I couldn’t let him think you were after the baron’s money. I couldn’t have him looking down his nose at you. Especially when Mr. Cale has even loftier friends than the Lochlaws.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I recognized that phaeton he was driving. Belongs to a duke.”
She gaped at him. How could Victor possibly know a duke well enough to borrow his phaeton? “Are you sure that it wasn’t Mr. Cale’s?”
“Yes. I asked him right out. He said it belonged to his host. I recognized it from years ago, when the heir to the duke came to the shop to have a bracelet repaired for his mother. Everyone on Princes Street came out to have a look at that phaeton, since back then there weren’t too many hereabouts. We were all mightily impressed.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You weren’t there. It was around the time Amalie was born. Anyway, rumor was that the family had come up to stay at their villa in Edinburgh while they consulted with some doctor on account of the duke’s going mad. Turned out to be true.”
Victor knew a duke. Oh, Lord. “What was the duke’s name?”
A frown knit Mr. Gordon’s brow. “Kinloch, as I recall. No, that was the son’s title. The duke’s was Lyons.” His face cleared. “That’s it. The Duke of Lyons. Though I think he’s dead now, and his son has the title. The young heir couldn’t have been any older then than Lochlaw is now. He looked a sight, poor lad, so troubled. Must be hard to have a father lose his wits like that.”
Isa tightened her hands into fists. Yes, it would be hard. And a newly minted duke in such a difficult situation might be vulnerable to someone as clever as Victor. Someone looking to further his own interests once he realized the proceeds from those diamond earrings wouldn’t go very far.
Was that what Victor had done? Insinuated himself into the Lyons household by implying that he was a distant cousin? Was that what he was doing with the Lochlaws now? She wouldn’t put it past him. She knew better than anyone how he could show two faces at once—that of a loving husbandandthat of a conniving thief.
Well, all that was about to change.
“I presume that Mr. Cale is staying at the duke’s villa, since he referred to the owner of the phaeton as his host. Do you know where this villa is?”
Mr. Gordon went still. “Why?”
“I think it’s time I speak to Mr. Cale and find out what he’s up to.”
“You can speak to him in the morning. The fellow said he’d be there to greet you when we opened, and I don’t doubt that he will.”
She didn’t, either. The trouble was, she didnotwant to have this conversation in front of anyone else. It needed to be private.
“Besides,” Mr. Gordon went on, “I know what he’s up to, and I set him straight. Don’t you worry.”
“Iamworried. What if he goes running off to Lady Lochlaw to whisper poisonous accusations in her ears? I’d like to know where he lives, at least, just in case that happens. Please, Mr. Gordon? This is my future we’re talking about.” She steeled herself for the lie. “My future with Rupert.”
Mr. Gordon let out a long breath. “Very well. My coachman may remember from delivering the bracelet all those years ago, after it was repaired. I’ll ask him when we get you home.”
“Thank you.”
