Once they settled on a time, he explained his plan. His cousin Phoebe and her husband wouldn’t mind harboring a guest for the night. And the Blairs knew all the right people in Edinburgh who would appeal to Lady Alice and her miser of a father.
Preventing Mortimer’s hooligans from attacking might be a different problem, but the Blairs were better prepared than a school full of young women. Their affluent street had watchmen and street lights. Plus, Phoebe had animal guards that could sniff out strangers and terrify attackers.
He was almost starting to appreciate his family’s odd abilities. Perhaps he needed to pay more attention to his own.
The old soldier in his head muttered irascibly.
While he waited on Lady Alice, Gerard sent a messenger to warn the Blairs of his plans. So when they arrived after dark, his drama-prone cousin was at the door to greet them. For the benefit of any onlookers, she announced, “Gerard, how good of you to introduce us to your new lady friend! She will be more than safe with us, I assure you. Come along, my lady. We have a room all prepared and hot chocolate just waiting for your arrival.”
Alice shot him a dirty look, but he’d explained who the Blairs were on the ride over. For the introduction to Blair’s wealthy coterie, she’d hold her sharp tongue and drink chocolate.
While the women hustled upstairs, Andrew Blair appeared from his workroom in back. A large man in an oil-stained shirt that revealed he was no stranger to hard work, he polished a piece of metal. “We’re old hands at skullduggery,” he reminded Gerard. “You needn’t worry. Phoebe’s animals are all alert and waiting to take a bite out of any intruder.”
“I’ve had the biggest thug locked up. I don’t know if Mortimer has found any more larger than a street urchin, or I’d say have the beasts aim for the testicles.” Worrying about Iona left Gerard short-tempered.
Blair chuckled. “We’ve alerted the night watchman. He’s had some experience too.”
“Raven says there are two strangers coming down the alley,” his animal-mind-reading cousin called down. “Signal Henry and Wolf, please.”
“Stables,” Blair said crisply, nodding to a footman stationed in the hallway.
Reassured somewhat by this sign of preparation, Gerard shook his head in disbelief. “I’ll give Mortimer this much credit, he’s done his research. Or someone has, if they know every Malcolm hiding place in the city. If we tie up this pair, do we hope that will prevent others from arriving? I’ve not your experience at skullduggery.”
Blair shrugged. “An organized gang might eventually realize this pair hasn’t reported in. It won’t matter. The animals are alert all night and will hear any newcomers. Go back and get some sleep. You look as if you’ve been a round or two in the ring.”
“That’s at least clean fighting,” Gerard muttered, tipping his hat back on. “I think I’ll just go back and punch Mortimer in the jaw and end it all.”
“No reward in that,” Blair said cheerfully. “And you’d have to kill him to end it all.”
And without the reward, he wouldn’t have the funds to pour the bastard onto a ship.
Growling as irascibly as the old soldier in his head, Gerard stalked out. Calling up the imperturbable, gentlemanly demeanor for which he was known, he tipped his hat to the watchman and strode down the street to walk off his temper.
The old soldier muttered something that loosely translated as stupid turd. Then added, Wealth isn’t in coin, before falling silent again.
Well, fine time to tell him that. “You mean there is no treasure?” Gerard shouted at the empty street, startling roosted pigeons.
Did not say that.
No more listening to stupid coins and ancient voices.
Noticing an odd vibration on the night air, he swung around and caught a tall, ragged adolescent raising a cudgel. Just what he needed.
He kicked the lad in the nuts and walloped him with his walking stick.
Twenty-one
“I’m coming with you.” In the School of Malcolm’s shabby front parlor the next morning, Gerard’s Great-Aunt Winifred adjusted an old-fashioned straw hat on her graying blond hair. “My nephew has blind spots a mile wide.”
Iona shook out the folds of the gown that had been delivered early this morning. A lovely gold-striped skirt with a toffee-colored bodice and a prim train, it was the most delightful attire she’d owned since her come-out. “No, Lord Ives simply has different priorities. Sending my new gowns here was thoughtful, and the kind of mundane detail that keeps his world running smoothly. We cannot expect him to understand our concerns can’t be solved with a new gown.”
Winifred was so much a part of Wystan that her arrival at the school had startled Iona, but she was grateful for the older lady’s sturdy presence. Perhaps if miracles happened and all went well, they could buy presents for the other ladies and travel back together. She’d love that.
She knew the chances of it happening were next to nil.
“It’s the mundane that blinds him,” Winifred muttered, stabbing a hat pin into the straw.
“Men are like that.” With her gray curls and earrings bobbling, Lady Agnes adjusted a fold on Iona’s new attire. “Especially Ives men. It’s hard for them to grasp all the nuances of the world they inhabit when they only think in steps to the task they wish accomplished. My son can see ghosts. Do you think he bothers to discover why they appear to him? Unless they’re offering him an architectural drawing, he’s not interested.”
Iona chuckled. Lady Agnes’s son was Max Ives, the engineering husband of the Malcolm Librarian. She remembered Lydia laughing at her husband’s obliviousness. Being able to talk with other Malcolms renewed her confidence, even if her gift paled beside that of others.
“Well, one of us has to open Gerard’s eyes,” Winifred said, still not completely appeased. “You can be certain he’s only thinking of money and not the futures of Lady Iona and Lady Isobel. Imagine, letting a lady marry an uncouth American just so
