Sister of Rogues

by Cynthia Breeding

  Finley smothered a grin. “Aye,” he said equally loud, “I think ye can spare a bottle or two.”

  Although Kier didn’t look in his direction, he noted the guard’s expression had lightened considerably. He wished he’d thought of a bribe before.

  “I’ll be off to take care of the matter then,” Finn said, dipping his head slightly to let Kier know Fontaine would be investigated. Then Finley rose and looked at the guard. “Will ye be on duty on the morrow? I’ll bring the brandy round if ye are.”

  The burly man almost smiled but caught himself. “Aye, I come on duty mid-morning or so.”

  “Then I will return,” Finley said and sauntered off.

  Kier watched him go. Finn was good at ferreting out bits of information others overlooked. If Fontaine were behind this arrest, Finley would discover it.

  But the real question was why would a Frenchman have an interest in getting Kier arrested in the first place?

  The guard appeared nearly cordial the next afternoon when he approached Kier’s cell to unlock the door. Strange what a free bottle of cognac could do.

  “Ye have a visitor,” the guard said.

  Finn most likely, Kier thought as he walked toward another secured area. He’d probably have to tell his friend to lessen the visits before he got arrested for conspiring and they would both sit in cells.

  But Kier almost tripped over his own feet as he stepped through the doorway and recognized the figure in front of him. The Duke of Wellington stood waiting.

  Arthur Wellesley picked his gloves off the table and turned toward Kier. “My apologies for not coming sooner,” he said and glanced at the guard. “Does Lord Adair have any personal belongings here?”

  “Y…yes, Your Grace,” the guard stammered. “They will be waiting by the door.”

  Kier looked at the duke. “I am free to leave?”

  “You are. I’ve taken care of it,” he replied and moved ahead of Kier, indicating they would not talk right now.

  That suited Kier just fine. Once they’d retrieved Kier’s few possessions and were inside the ducal carriage and it rolled away from the prison, Kier could no longer contain his questions.

  “I cannot begin to thank you, Your Grace, but why are you here? Were you looking for me? How did you know I was imprisoned?”

  Wellington smiled. “I remembered you as a rather quiet young man when I came to speak to your mother.”

  Kier blinked. The battle at Vitoria had been nearly three-and-a-half years ago. The duke must have made countless other visits letting women know they’d become widows. Yet he remembered? Kier inclined his head. “I was in shock at the news.”

  “Understandable.” The duke looked out the carriage window briefly. “War is harsh. Would that we could prevent it.” Then he looked back at Kier. “You sent a letter several weeks ago inquiring if I knew a Walter Avery. The name was unknown to me, but you also mentioned the MacLeods of Carlisle and specifically a Brice MacLeod. Again, I was unfamiliar with any members of the clan being from Carlisle, and no one named Brice MacLeod, but the mention of Fiona made me remember a visit I had from her brother Jamie.”

  Kier rubbed his jaw. “I have met Jamie as well.”

  Wellington lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, well. Those MacLeods are fighting men from the Highlands, not Carlisle.”

  “So that is why the letters were not answered.”

  “I do not know about any letters,” Wellington continued, “but Jamie told me of his sister’s disappearance. He was worried a man named Wesley Alton may—”

  “Fiona said Walter Avery was Wesley Alton.”

  The duke frowned. “Yes, I concluded that. Wesley Alton is a deranged man who has sought revenge ever since King George awarded the title to Cantford to Ian MacLeod. Alton tried to abduct both Ian’s wife and Jamie’s.”

  Kier sat back against the leather seat. “So everything Fiona said was true.”

  “I was just glad to hear she had been returned safely.”

  “So she is doing well?”

  “I do not know. I just learned she had been brought to London.”

  Did Fiona miss him? Kier wished he knew. Then he drew his brows together as another thought came to him. He hoped the duke didn’t think he had anything to do with keeping Fiona an inmate of the asylum. “Since Fiona is safe, why did you come?”

  “Oddly enough, it had nothing to do with the MacLeods. Daniel O’Connell sent me a post asking to discuss obtaining Irish seats in Parliament. Since I have not visited my homeland in a while, I decided to come here. Daniel told me you would be the person to contact in Dublin.” Wellington smiled. “I did not expect to find you in gaol.”

  “That is a long story.”

  “Better saved for another time then,” the duke replied as the carriage stopped, “since it seems we have arrived at your castle.” He opened the door and stepped down, followed by Kier. “You have maintained the keep well.”

  “It is the reason I agreed to house inmates from the asylum,” Kier answered. “I could not let my family’s history disappear.”

  “Quite admirable,” Wellington replied. “Perhaps—”

  “Thank the saints and leprechauns ye are back!” Finley rushed down the steps toward them. “Ye were right! Gerard Fontaine was behind your arrest.”

  Wellington stopped mid-step. “Gerard Fontaine? He is here? In Dublin?”

  Finley shook his head. “He was. When I went to confront him, he was gone.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “No. The landlord said he left nearly a week ago without a forwarding address.”

  The duke cursed.

  Kier frowned. “You know Gerard Fontaine?”

  “Oh, yes.” Wellington grimaced. “Gerard Fontaine is Wesley Alton.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “The good that’s come of it is ye are no longer charged with treason,” Finn said two days later after the Duke of Wellington had met with Daniel and agreed to present his petition to Parliament. “No need to hold more meetings until we hear the outcome.”

  Kier nodded and placed a final stack of papers in the bottom drawer of the desk in the tower alcove. He locked the drawer and pocketed the key. “Better to keep our information safe from prying eyes.”

  Finn looked around the small space and grinned. “No one here except us—and perhaps a wee faerie.”

  Kier grinned back, not minding the taunting anymore. Finn thought his change in thought regarding the fae was due to the one who’d whispered the idea of marrying Fiona—he had no idea what had happened the night the faerie sent Fiona to Kier. Which was just as well. Kier had no intention of telling Finn he’d talked to his mother’s ghost either. Finn would never let him hear the end of it.

  His grin faded as he picked up a paid invoice from Fontaine Exports. To think he’d actually done business with a man who wanted to destroy Fiona…

  “’Tis over,” Finn said, apparently noticing Kier’s change of expression.

  “The man is still loose.”

  “Maybe not for long. Wellington agreed to go to the authorities in London and Paris now that he knows both the names Fontaine goes by.”

  “The man could assume another alias. He seems to be good at them.”

  “Aye, he’s a conniving bastard, all right,” Finn replied.

  “If I had not been imprisoned, perhaps we could have caught up with him.”

  “More likely the reason ye were arrested was because Fontaine meant to escape.”

  Kier crumbled the invoice into a hard wad, threw it into the lit brazier and watched silently as the paper caught, the ends curling up as flame reduced it to ashes. He wished he could put an end to Gerard Fontaine as easily.

  “As long as the man walks free, Fiona is not safe.”

  “I don’t think ye need to worry about that. If Fo
ntaine dares to show his face, those brothers of hers will rip him to shreds.” Finn quirked a corner of his mouth. “If ye remember, they were spoiling for a fight when they got here.”

  “I remember,” Kier replied. “But I want to be the one protecting Fiona, and there is not a ship leaving for three days.”

  “I suspect ye are going to have to convince her brothers first. Ye might take the time now to ponder on how ye are going to get to your wee hellcat.”

  “Once I talk to Fiona, everything will be fine. Her brothers cannot deny me a conversation with her.”

  Finn raised a brow. “Ye said the wolf-eyed one seemed overly protective.”

  “I cannot fault him for that. The other brother is an earl. He will understand a reasonable, civilized request.”

  “Ian MacLeod may hold an English title, but in Scotland, he is laird of his clan.”

  “The English government dissolved all that. He has no authority as such.”

  Finley snorted. “Ye have had your head buried in books too long, my friend. Do ye think the Scots care what the English say any more than we Irish do? Nae. They go to ground just like we have.” Finley stood, getting ready to leave. “Ian MacLeod is still laird, and the laird’s word is law regardless of what the English contend.”

  As Finn took his leave, Kier stared after him. All he wanted to do was tell Fiona he loved her. That she was right and he was wrong. Everything would be fine and they’d get married just as soon as she wanted. He was willing to do whatever it took, now that he’d come to his senses.

  But he had a feeling he’d have to fight his way past her brothers first.

  Perhaps the fight would come earlier than Kier thought. The next day, Seamus informed him one of the Scots was back. Kier stepped through the doorway of a room off the foyer that served as a parlor of sorts. He hoped the tall, broad-shouldered man standing in front of the hearth was Ian and not the more hot-tempered Jamie.

  The man turned at the sound of his approach and Kier stopped mid-step. Slate-grey eyes studied him. Neither Ian or Jamie then. How many MacLeods were there?

  “I am Kier O’Reilly. You wanted to see me?”

  “Aye. I’m Shane MacLeod.”

  Kier eyed him warily, noting that he had only one knife in his belt and no sword.

  Maybe the musket strapped to his thigh made up for that. “Another brother?”

  “Cousin. Is Fiona here?”

  “She already left with her brothers,” Kier replied.

  Shane looked at him skeptically. “When?”

  “Nearly three weeks ago.” It had been nineteen days and twelve hours ago, but Shane probably wasn’t interested in hearing exact numbers. This cousin didn’t look like he was spoiling for a fight either. “Would you like to have a seat? Whiskey perhaps?” “Aye, thanks.”

  “You were not notified of Fiona’s return?” Kier asked after he’d poured both of them a drink. If the cousin didn’t look so much like the brothers, he’d be suspicious about why the man was here.

  “I just put into port from Charleston,” Shane answered and told him the story of why he thought Fiona had been taken to America. “When I got there, the harbour master swore no woman had disembarked from the New Orleans, but the log Captain Henderson filed listed a stop in Dublin. I made inquiries yesterday when I arrived.” He set the whiskey glass down. “How could ye possibly think Fiona a lunatic?”

  When Kier finished telling him how that had transpired, Shane’s eyes had turned stormy. “And Alton escaped once more?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  He looked grim and stood. “Then I had best be sailing when the tide turns. I’ve a wife to protect as well.”

  “Take me with you.”

  Shane stopped on his way to the door. “Why?”

  Kier rose and took a deep breath. “Because I love Fiona and want to marry her.”

  One of Shane’s eyebrows rose. “Does she ken this?”

  “No. Yes. No…”

  The other brow rose. “Ye doona ken yourself?”

  “Yes…yes, I do. What I meant was I offered to marry Fiona.”

  “And she turned ye down?”

  “In a way.”

  Shane folded his arms across his chest. “How did ye put it exactly?”

  “I told her it was my responsibility to protect her and marrying me would keep her out of the asylum.”

  A corner of Shane’s mouth twitched. “Let me guess. The lass dinnae swoon at your feet at that offer?”

  Kier felt his face grow warm. “No. She said she would not marry a man unless he loved her as well.”

  “And do ye?”

  “Yes.” Kier hoped his face wouldn’t spontaneously combust from the increased heat. “I just did not realize it until she left.”

  “What made ye realize it?”

  He couldn’t very well tell the man because of a faerie and his mother’s ghost. Such information would only serve to ensure the MacLeods kept him far, far away from Fiona. He was still trying to come to terms with the whole thing himself. “Because I miss her. She has an inner strength I’ve not seen before in a woman. She is protective of those weaker than herself. She is loyal and intelligent and—”

  “Ye make her sound like a saint. Did ye nae witness her ability to get into trouble as well?”

  “I did. Maybe that is what I love most about her. She believes in acting on her thoughts.”

  “Impulses. Fiona doesnae always think things through first.”

  “I’ll get the chance to rescue her then.”

  Shane studied Kier again, and this time his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Perhaps ’tis time Fiona gives another mon grey hairs for her escapades.”

  Kier nodded. “I would be happy to cope with those.”

  “And if the lass turns ye down?”

  “She will not.” She cannot. “I will convince her to marry me.”

  Shane’s smile broadened to a grin. “’Tis an entertaining thought.” He held out his hand. “Welcome aboard then.”

  “I really wish you would take some time to socialize,” Mari told Fiona on a cold, rainy afternoon that had them, along with Shauna and Abigail, enjoying a warm fire in the library and sipping hot chocolate.

  “I have been busy learning about prison reform from Elizabeth Fry.”

  “We know that,” Mari said, “but you cannot make reform happen without the support of members of Parliament, and those men are married to women of the ton.”

  “She is right,” Abigail agreed. “Papa always says it’s wise to cultivate relationships with influential people.”

  “And there are not many people more influential than Almack’s matrons,” Mari added. “Even if you are not interested in being courted, it would still be good to be seen at some events.”

  Shauna nodded. “’Tis nae so different from the way Scotland was. The clans needed allies to fight with them. ’Tis why marriages were arranged.”

  “Not that anyone is suggesting you marry someone you do not want,” Abigail quickly said.

  Fiona blinked back tears. She wanted Kier. In spite of the fact it had been nearly a month—actually twenty-two days and six hours—since she left Dublin, she missed him more every day. Perhaps she had been foolish to insist he say he loved her. Maybe Kier had been right. Maybe love did grow. She needed to find out.

  “Well, I doona need to fash about that right now,” Fiona answered. “’Tis two days until Christmas and most of the ton have left.”

  “True, but in the spring—”

  “I willna be here in the spring.”

  Shauna gave her a sharp look. “Ye are coming back to Scotland?”

  Fiona hesitated. “Nae.”

  “Nae?”

  Mari frowned. “Where will you go—”

  “To Ireland, I would wager.” Abig
ail put her cup down. “Am I right?”

  Fiona paused again and then nodded. “I have to return.”

  “’Tis a barmy idea. What if they return ye to the asylum?”

  Fiona looked at her sister. “Ian established with Warden Kelly who I am. I willna be returned to the asylum as an inmate. But…” she took a deep breath, “…I would like to work on reform there, much like Elizabeth is doing here.”

  “’Tis even a worse idea.”

  “Jamie will never allow it.”

  Fiona turned to Mari. “Jamie is nae my keeper.’

  “Ha. Try telling that to him.”

  “You can get back to Dublin without Jamie finding out,” Abigail said.

  Mari stared at her. “Have you gone mad? If Jamie found out—”

  “He will not until it is too late. I stowed away on Shane’s ship, remember?” Abigail looked at Shauna. “And we did the same thing to come to London.”

  “And incurred Ian’s wrath.”

  Abigail smiled. “You did not seem to mind spending some time with Captain Henderson as I recall.”

  Shauna blushed. “I hardly spoke to him.”

  “Only because Ian kept us locked in the cabin.” Abigail looked at all of them. “I think we are forgetting the only thing that is really important.”

  “What?” Mari asked.

  “Fiona loves Kier. She should have the opportunity to be with him.”

  “I do not mean to be cruel,” Mari replied, “but he has made no contact. If he were really interested—”

  “Sometimes a man needs to be nudged,” Abigail interrupted. “If I had waited for Shane to realize he could have the sea as his mistress and me as his wife, I would probably still be waiting. And,” she went on as Mari attempted to speak, “I also remember that you and Jamie did not have smooth sailing at first either.”

  Mari snapped her mouth shut and then she started to giggle. “That is true. I thought he was the most aggravating man I had ever met.”

  “Kier is nae aggravating. He is kind and smart and—”

  “Aye, we ken.” Shauna started to laugh too. “The mon is a saint, for sure.”