“He can be an idiot, our Graeme.”
Sabrina mustered a smile. “I shouldn’t be ungrateful. He’s doing his best to protect me.”
“Then do something inside the house.”
“Such as?”
“Sneak into his bedroom and force him to be romantic.”
Sabrina couldn’t help laughing. “I think I’d best stick to my lists. How goes the battle with the water closets? You are an absolute angel for taking on that job.”
“Aren’t I, though? But I’m just supervising. Patty has been doing most of the work. That girl is both sturdy and good-tempered, which are excellent qualities when dealing with plumbing.”
“Still, I cannot thank you enough. It’s a rather gruesome job.”
“Sabrina, I lived in Canada. I had moose camped out in my garden. This is nothing.”
“Moose? That sounds alarming.”
“You have no idea. By the way, unlike everyone else at Lochnagar, Patty is quite talkative. I’ve gleaned quite a few interesting tidbits from her.”
Sabrina perked up. “Such as?”
“Why don’t we wait for the men to join us? They came in a few minutes ago, and Mrs. Wilson said she would provide a cold collation as soon as they washed up.”
Sabrina glanced at the clock, startled to see it was well past noon. “Goodness, I’d completely forgotten about food.”
“Understandable. You’ve been preoccupied with bringing this blasted house back from ruin. But you’re not to overdo it, my dear.” Ainsley waggled her brows. “Graeme won’t like that.”
“He’s barely been around to notice what I’m doing, the dratted man.”
“How annoying.” Ainsley reached for a cheddar and chive scone left over from breakfast. “I’ll say one thing for Mrs. Wilson. She’s an excellent baker.”
“Actually, Hannah made those. She’s been very eager to help in the kitchen.”
“No doubt because she wanted to avoid water closet duty.”
“We all wanted to avoid that. Fortunately, Hannah and Mrs. Wilson get along surprisingly well.”
“Because they both have gloomy temperaments, dragging doom around behind them like dirty dusters.”
“They’re not the only ones.”
“You’re referring to Graeme. In his case, the word is grumpy.”
“Or grouchy.”
Ainsley laughed. “Grouchy Graeme. That’s the perfect nickname. I can’t wait to start using it.”
Sabrina put up a hand. “Please do not. He’ll never talk to me again.”
“Who will never talk to you again?” Graeme asked.
She carefully put down her cup before turning to see him coming through the doorway, Royal right behind him.
Ainsley scrunched her nose. “Kendricks are always flitting about like ghosts instead of properly stomping in like the giants they are.”
Graeme went to fetch a cup of tea, while Royal dropped a kiss on his wife’s head before sitting down.
“If I were a ghost,” Royal said, “I’d be sure to moan and wail in a dramatic fashion, clanging my bloody broadsword against the stone walls of the manor.”
“That is disgusting,” Ainsley said. “I forbid you to engage in such behavior, even when you’re dead.”
Sabrina smiled. “Lochnagar could use a good ghost.”
“You’ll be sure to lose Hannah if one pops up,” Ainsley replied.
Graeme took a seat. “A distinct advantage. And I repeat, who will never talk to you again, Sabrina? Is there a problem with one of the servants?”
The man was truly a dog with a bone.
“It’s nothing,” she said.
He narrowed his gaze. “Lass—”
“My dear, hardly anyone in this blasted house will talk to any of us,” Ainsley smoothly interrupted. “It’s quite frustrating, as I’m sure you know.”
Royal grimaced. “We do. We’ve spent the last three days trying to pry information out of the tenants and villagers. Tight-lipped as oysters.”
“One would think the remaining tenants would be eager to talk about the problems on the estate,” Sabrina said. “We’ve made it clear we want to help.”
“They’ve heard that before, from your former estate manager, for one. After he then handed out a number of eviction notices, one can say that trust in outsiders became nonexistent.”
“But you’re Highlanders,” she protested. “Surely they should be willing to speak with you.”
“Highlanders or not, we’re still outsiders,” Graeme replied.
“Did you try the brogue?” Ainsley asked. “That usually does it.”
Royal snorted. “Graeme put on a brogue so heavy even I could barely understand him.”
“One of the crofters laughed at me,” Graeme dryly said. “I am truly losing my touch.”
Ainsley patted his arm. “Never mind, dear. It’s time to give up all this spy business. All this skulking about can’t be good for your health.”
“My health is just fine, thank you.” He looked at Sabrina. “The real problem is that they know Royal and I aren’t the ones in charge.”
“That would be my father.”
“Yes, and no one trusts an absentee landlord, a Sassenach, no less.”
Sabrina put down her teacup with a sigh. “It all sounds rather hopeless, doesn’t it?”
Graeme waggled a hand. “Not quite. We finally had a bit of success with one of the oldest crofters, Stan MacTavish. He manages a large herd of coos.”
“What are coos?” Ainsley asked.
“A species of Highland cattle,” Sabrina replied. “Hardy, and an excellent source of income.”
Graeme flashed her a smile. “Correct. You should be able to have a nice chat with Mr. MacTavish about it. He was willing to speak to us because he’s crusty enough not to give a damn what anyone thinks of him. He also feels safe from eviction, since your father apparently wishes to expand his cattle holdings.”
“And what did Mr. MacTavish have to say?” Sabrina asked.
“First, let me tell you what’s been nagging at me,” Graeme said. “Why did your father replace the previous estate steward in the first place? Mr. Hugo had served as steward here for years.”
“I assumed it was because he wouldn’t follow orders to enact the Clearances,” Sabrina replied.
“According to MacTavish, such was not the case. Hugo cleared tenants, but seemed to do so in a very selective manner.”
Ainsley snapped her fingers. “Maybe some of the crofters were bribing him.”
“Possibly,” Graeme said. “While MacTavish was forthcoming about his dislike for Hugo, he was vague on details regarding the man’s sudden departure from Lord Musgrave’s employ.”
He fell silent, frowning thoughtfully into his teacup.
“He’s not the only one who’s rather vague,” Sabrina prompted.
“Let’s just say he hinted at illegal operations on the estate,” Graeme said. “Ones that Hugo was involved in.”
“What sort of illegal operations?”
“Brewing whisky.”
Ainsley rested her chin in her palm. “Oh, like you and Grant once did?”
Graeme rolled his eyes. “That was just a hobby. This is something else entirely.”
“Something that possibly involved smuggling,” Royal added. “But MacTavish wouldn’t go any further than that.”
Sabrina let out a sigh. “Oh, splendid. Is this still going on, do you think?”
Graeme shook his head. “We’ve been all over the estate, and I’ve seen no evidence of it. Stills are difficult to hide.”
“Agreed,” said Royal. “So, your father’s now-retired business manager finally gave Hugo the boot. The new estate steward began to more vigorously enforce evictions, which presumably included the smugglers.”
“Which would make them quite angry,” Sabrina said.
Ainsley cocked an eyebrow. “Angry enough to exact vengeance on Musgrave?”
“It’s all speculation at
this point,” Graeme said.
“Do we even know the names of the people involved in this activity?” Sabrina asked.
“MacTavish claimed some confusion on that point,” Graeme dryly replied.
Sabrina tapped her fingers on her teacup. “We have no proof at all of smuggling, then.”
“I’m positive there was an illegal operation and that Hugo was involved,” Graeme said. “The problem is that locals are more likely than not to protect smugglers, since they hate the taxes on the legal brews and anything that smacks of Sassenach law. It makes it difficult to investigate.”
“Although MacTavish suggested both Hugo and the mysterious smugglers were not popular with the locals,” Royal added. “That’s fairly unusual.”
“Still,” Sabrina said, “that sounds mostly like hearsay, and certainly no proof of a plot to kill me.”
“Sabrina,” Graeme said. “You must—”
She held up a hand. “I’m truly not trying to be difficult. But Lochnagar needs us, Graeme. I cannot pull up stakes and abandon these poor people without solid evidence that I’m in danger.”
“It’s to your credit that you want to help, but your father—”
“My father is the cause of this state of affairs. That being the case, I mean to stay here and set Lochnagar back on a path of good management.”
“I can possibly shed some light,” Ainsley said. “Patty was quite gabby this morning about nefarious activities at Lochnagar.”
Graeme sighed. “And when did you plan on sharing this?”
“When you stopped talking. Which took quite a long time, as usual.”
“Then perhaps you can enlighten us now, love,” Royal said, forestalling his brother’s scowling retort.
“Patty’s father, as you know, owns the pub in Dunlaggan, which is a locus of gossip. Fortunately, Patty likes to spread that gossip. I was quizzing her about Mr. Hugo’s replacement, a certain Mr. Francis. Our Patty developed tender feelings for Mr. Francis, and was quite desolate when he bolted from Lochnagar.”
“Did she say why he left?”
“He was afraid, apparently. Patty believes there was skullduggery afoot, and that Mr. Francis was determined to curtail it through evictions. In doing so, she thinks he brought someone’s wrath down on his head, enough to necessitate a quick exit.”
“Did she mention the names of the, er, skullduggers?” Graeme asked.
“She suffered a convenient memory lapse at that point.”
“Does Patty know where Mr. Francis currently resides?”
“Alas, he did not return her feelings, so he did not impart that information.”
“Apparently, he did not impart that information to anyone,” Sabrina said, troubled by Ainsley’s information. “How inconvenient.”
“I’ll run him to ground,” Graeme said. “In the meantime, Royal will be taking you and Ainsley back to Edinburgh. You’ll leave tomorrow.”
Royal lifted an eyebrow. “We will?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Sabrina said.
Graeme directed her a stern look. “Did you not hear what Ainsley just said? Francis was obviously run off under threat. Lochnagar isn’t safe for you.”
“Mr. Francis left almost two months ago. And you just noted, you’ve found no actual evidence of an illegal distillery or a smuggling operation, merely hints by MacTavish. Right now, all seems quiet, which suggests the smugglers are long gone.” Sabrina shrugged. “And as nice as Patty is, one can hardly call her a reliable witness.”
Royal nodded. “All good points. Doesn’t really sound like there’s much cause for immediate panic.”
“Oh, that’s a helpful assessment,” Graeme sarcastically replied. “Since when did you turn into an inquiry agent?”
Ainsley whacked Graeme on the shoulder. “Don’t be disrespectful to your big brother.”
“I’ll tell him whatever he needs to be told. And you ladies will do exactly as I say.”
Well, that was a bit much. “I appreciate your concern and care, sir,” Sabrina said, “but without more specific information and a credible threat—”
“Credible threat,” Graeme interrupted. “What would you find credible, Sabrina, a pistol held to your back? Again?”
“Without a credible threat,” she firmly went on, “I refuse to turn tail. The people of Lochnagar—my people—have been abandoned too many times. I will not repeat that pattern.”
“Well said,” Ainsley piped in. “Graeme, you and Royal will simply have to do your job and protect us.”
Before Graeme could explode, the door opened, and Mrs. Wilson entered. Hannah followed, trundling a wheeled cart with their luncheon.
“Oh, excellent,” Ainsley said. “I’m famished.”
When Graeme shot his brother an incredulous look, Royal gave a shrug. “Might as well give it up, old boy. The ladies have made their decision.”
“The hell they have,” Graeme said, jumping to his feet.
Mrs. Wilson eyed Sabrina with alarm. “My lady, do ye want us to come back?”
“It’s fine, Mrs. Wilson,” Sabrina said. “Please serve luncheon.”
Graeme fixed Sabrina with an irritated glower. “Insane, the whole lot of ye,” he said before stalking out of the room.
“But you’ve not had any lunch,” Sabrina called after him.
“That’s all right,” Ainsley said, reaching for a dish. “More for us.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sabrina had been forced to sneak out of her own house, thanks to Graeme. Sensible precautions were one thing, but he’d fully departed the realm of sensible some time ago. Yet again he’d ordered her not to step foot outside.
After the gentlemen had left on another search of manor lands, Sabrina had gone to the stables and saddled up a mare. Unfortunately, bringing a groom along was not an option, since Bobby had also ridden out with Graeme and Royal.
She made a mental note to hire another groom as soon as possible.
Slowing the mare to a walk, Sabrina passed through the gates and turned onto the main road to the hamlet. From this vantage point, she had a splendid view of the dramatic landscape of rolling glen, with glimmers of a loch in the distance and craggy peaks beyond them. Less than a mile away was Dunlaggan, the picturesque hamlet so closely tied to the estate.
As she gazed out over the beautiful vista, her throat went unexpectedly tight. Sabrina had always taken a great deal of satisfaction in running her father’s households, but this was something entirely different. She felt a newfound sense of pride in Lochnagar, her mother’s birthplace and the ancestral home of her clan. Deep in her bones, there was a sense of belonging she’d never before experienced.
Lochnagar had fallen asleep these many years, like a princess in a fairy tale. But now, the lovely old girl was awakening from her slumber. And Sabrina couldn’t walk away, no matter the trouble or potential for danger.
She urged the placid mare into a canter and soon reached the outskirts of the hamlet. There, she encountered only a lad with an adorably gap-toothed grin leading a cow to a paddock.
Dunlaggan’s simple stone cottages were neatly maintained, with scrubbed stoops, painted shutters, flower-filled window boxes, and even the occasional door sporting a bright blue or red. For all the troubles plaguing the estate, the hamlet’s residents clearly had a great deal of pride.
But the local folk seemed exceedingly wary. As she passed, matrons scurried inside before she could say hello, and two elderly gentlemen on a bench in front of the pub subjected her to a narrow inspection. They barely bobbed their heads when she smiled and gave them a cheery wave.
Sabrina could only hope her potential source of information proved to be friendlier.
She halted in front of a gray-stone manse, the largest house in the hamlet. It was tucked in a pretty pocket garden beside the village kirk. Casting a quick glance around to ensure her privacy, she gathered up her skirts and swung off in an awkward dismount. The mare snorted and eyed her with a degree
of disdain but didn’t balk.
“You’re an old dear with excellent manners.” She rubbed the horse’s ear before looping the reins around a convenient hitching post.
Pushing through the knee-high gate, she walked to the front door and rapped the knocker. When there was no answer, she rapped again. Again, there was silence, but for the buzzing of bees and the rustle of leaves in the gentle afternoon breeze. Two mullioned windows opened out over the garden, so she hoped someone was home.
She was about to rap a third time when a quick footstep sounded from inside. The door swung open to reveal a young man in shirtsleeves and a neat leather vest, with sleeve protectors tied around his forearms. He held a pen and rather owlishly blinked at her, as if his thoughts were far away and she was something of a surprise.
Then his expression cleared, and he flashed a charming smile. “My dear ma’am, please forgive me. My housekeeper has stepped out for a moment. Have you been waiting long?”
His gaze was so warm and his expression so friendly that Sabrina couldn’t help but smile back. “Just a moment or two. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
He opened the door wide. “No, indeed, Lady Sabrina.” He flashed a grin. “We have very few visitors to Dunlaggan, and certainly none that look like you.”
When he then flushed, his smile turning into an expression of comic dismay, she chuckled as she stepped inside.
“And I take it you are Reverend Brown.”
“I am, my lady. Please forgive my impertinence. My housekeeper, Mrs. Adair, has described you in detail, as have some of the villagers.” His smile returned. “I only returned to Dunlaggan yesterday, and I’ve heard talk of nothing else. Everyone is quite excited.”
She paused in the low-ceilinged hall as he shut the door. “I’m not quite sure excited describes my reception.”
He cast her a quick glance before gesturing down the hall. “Won’t you join me in the back parlor? It’s quite the nicest room in the house and not nearly as cluttered as my study. Mrs. Adair would have a fit if I allowed a visitor into my study in its current state.”
“We certainly cannot upset Mrs. Adair.”
He again flashed his very attractive smile. “A good housekeeper is a treasure, as I’m sure you know.”
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