Page 46 of Return of the Scot
Lorne motioned for his cousin to sit back down while he went to the sideboard to pour himself three-fingers. “What did ye find out?”
“I met with the solicitor Gille hired for the sale of the castle. Matter of fact, do pour me one, too, cousin.”
“Aye.” Lorne filled another cup and then brought it over, too agitated to sit. They both took long sips, and finally, he said, “Do go on.”
“The solicitor, a Mr. Corbett, did no’ want to give me any information, but I stalked his office until he left and then broke in.” When Lorne gaped at him, Malcolm grinned with satisfaction. “No’ to worry, I did no’ get caught. The information I’m giving ye is illegally obtained but seemed necessary.”
“Ye took many risks to get me what I asked for.”
“Worth it. Besides, I need to hone my skills continually.”
Lorne chuckled. Though he wasn’t privy to all his cousin’s day-to-day activities, he knew that most of what he was employed to do by the War Office was of a secret nature.
After another sip of his whisky, Malcolm said, “Gille booked passage for himself to Ireland, along with his wife.”
Lorne paused, drink halfway to his lips. “Wife? Who the hell did he marry? Did anyone know he’d wed? No one told me.”
“No one knew. Trust me, all society would have exploded like Mt. Vesuvius if they’d known your brother eloped.”
Lorne swirled the whisky around in his mouth. He’d been gone too long and knew next to nothing about his brother now. “Who is his bride?”
“I’ve got someone pulling the records, looking for the license.”
“If there is one. Maybe it’s a farce.”
“Could be.”
“Was his wife named on the ship’s passenger list? What about the lad?”
Malcolm shook his head. “Nay, her name was not listed, and there is no mention of a child, irritating as that is.”
Lorne walked to the sideboard, realizing he was going to need another splash of anti-lunacy. “What the bloody hell could he be doing in Ireland?” But the idea banged around in his skull louder than the bells in a church tower—if he were in said tower. “Shanna.”
Malcolm stood up at that and joined Lorne at the sideboard, his face creased in worry. “What are ye thinking?”
“Shanna had a parcel of land in Ireland, a modest ten pounds castle on top.” Back in the fifteenth century, Henry VI of England and Lord of Ireland at the time had granted his subjects ten pounds if they constructed tower keeps as a defensive measure to protect their lands. Passed down through the centuries, one of these small castles now belonged to the Andrewson family. “Since the two of them went missing at the same time, how likely is it they’ve gone there together? The only thing that boggles the mind is the child.”
“Aye, I can no’ imagine she would leave him behind. And would she have married Gille?”
Lorne set down his refreshed glass and rubbed his temples. “I do no’ bloody know. It’s all deuced aggravating.”
“Aye. I plan on interviewing the crew of the ship today. Thought ye might want to join me.”
“I’d love nothing more.” And he hoped they’d get some answers.
The two of them headed out in Malcolm’s waiting carriage for the docks at Leith. The Andrewson ships loomed larger than most but were farther down the wharf than the Dueling Brothers, a ship’s name whose irony was not lost on Lorne in the least. It made him sick to his stomach. Gille had undoubtedly chosen this ship for his passage to Ireland for the moniker.
“Bastard,” Malcolm muttered under his breath.
“He really is,” Lorne agreed.
They alighted from the carriage and walked toward the ship. The crew was making repairs and cleaning, perhaps planning for the next passenger voyage.
“Ho, there,” Malcolm called to a man who looked to be in charge, given he was just standing around pointing rather than doing any work.
The disgruntled man glanced down at them from his place on the deck, crossing his meaty arms over his even meatier chest. “What do ye want, guvnor?”
“We’ve some questions about two passengers.” How Malcolm maintained his cool was beyond Lorne, who wanted to shake the captain for being difficult.
