A Most Dangerous Profession(12)
The nurse gingerly approached Moira. “I’ll put her in the coach now, mistress.”
Moira bent down and hugged her daughter once more. “Be very brave,” she whispered in Rowena’s ear. “And read well for Mrs. Kimble. The next time I see you, you can show me all you’ve learned.”
Through sniffles, Rowena nodded.
It took every ounce of strength Moira had to make herself reach down and peel her daughter’s fingers from her own. With the release of each small finger, Moira’s heart broke a bit more.
She gently pressed Rowena’s hand into the nurse’s with a beseeching look. “Treat her well,” she whispered. “If you do, you will be compensated beyond your wildest dreams.”
The nurse’s face lit up and she said in a low voice, “I’ll treat her as if she were me own bairn.”
“No, you will treat her like my daughter, something you will never forget.”
The woman said in a grudging tone, “Fine, then. I’ll no’ hit her.”
It wasn’t much of a promise, but it was all Moira had. She watched as Rowena was placed back into the carriage, the nurse following.
Moira turned to Aniston. “This is the final errand I run for you,” she snapped. “Once this is done, I want Rowena back. If you don’t—”
“Pray don’t bother me with your empty threats. I decide when this is over, not you. Find the box, Moira, and I will consider letting that be your final task.” Aniston’s gaze flickered over her. “My carriage will fetch you in the morning to begin the journey.”
“How am I to get this box from Ross?”
Aniston looked amused. “You are the expert on procuring things, not I. You’ll find a way to get the box. I’m sure of it.”
“Then I need more information. Who this man is, where he lives, how to reach him—”
“The coachman will know the route to Balnagown Castle. It’s in the highlands. It will take a week and a half to reach there, perhaps longer. What else do you need to know?”
“Why did Ross purchase the box? Does he know its value?”
“I don’t think so. He bought it for his private collection. He has a very large one, from what I’ve heard, and fancies himself an expert.”
“Is he?”
“He thinks so, but I don’t believe you’d consider him so. You know so much more about antiquities than other people.” There was grudging respect in Aniston’s voice.
“What more do you know of him?”
“He’s wealthy, unmarried, and childless. They say he has a very fine stable. And he’s been in two duels in the last year.” Aniston shrugged. “I know nothing else.”
Moira frowned. “Two duels? What were they over? Gaming debts?”
“Other men’s wives.”
“Both times?”
“Yes.”
Finally, something she could use. “I’ll leave in the morning. I’m staying at the George.”
“I know where you’re staying,” he returned coolly before he turned and walked toward the carriage. As one of the footmen opened the door, Aniston paused. “One more thing: if you fail to bring me the box this time, I won’t be as patient as I’ve been in the past.”
“I won’t fail—providing your information is better than what you gave me on Bancroft and Miss Beauchamp.”
Aniston’s mouth thinned. “Just find the damn box.” He climbed inside his coach, and the door closed smartly behind him.
Moira watched, her jaw clenched. She’d fetch Aniston’s damned box—but he wouldn’t get it until he’d released Rowena.
The coachman hied the horses and the coach lumbered forward, swallowed by the mist before the sound of the creaking wheels had faded.
A sob caught in Moira’s throat, but she swallowed it and lifted her chin. She would find a way to win Rowena back. And once the child was safe, Moira would follow her blood legacy and finish this game. Aniston might think he held all the cards, but she’d only begun to play.
When this ends, not even God will be able to help George Aniston.
CHAPTER 4
A letter to Robert Hurst from his sister Triona Hurst MacLean upon his going to Eton to study as a youth.
Father told me you weren’t taking your studies as seriously as he’d hoped, but then that’s not surprising. He’s a difficult taskmaster; no one could fulfill his hopes with their studies and still have time for things like food and sleep.