Scandal in Scotland by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

shrugged. “I am merely repeating something Michael once said. I’m of the opinion that so long as our brother is under the protection of the indomitable Miss Smythe-Haughton, he will come to no harm.”
    Mary frowned. “She’s just his secretary.”
    “She is his translator, curator, administrator, organizer—in a word, she is his everything. He just hasn’t realized it yet.”
    “They don’t even like one another,” Caitlyn said. “Michael’s said so in his letters.”
    “Exactly,” Robert replied with a smug smile.
    William made an impatient noise. “Whatever Miss Smythe-Haughton is or is not, I will get that artifact and deliver it as soon as possible. I will keep you all apprised of the situation as it develops.”
    He gave a quick bow and left the room, his mind focused on the man who awaited him in the breakfast room. Michael, it won’t be long now. Wherever I have to go, whatever I have to do, I will find that artifact and win your release .

Letter from Michael Hurst to his sister Mary, from a rented room overlooking a busy bazaar in Turkey .

    I am awaiting my new interpreter. He is to take my party on a two-week journey into the mountains, where the locals swear a number of ancient ruins are hidden. One of our contacts suggested that there is also treasure to be found, but finding just one ruin of a proper antiquity would be enough of a treasure for me. One never knows until one investigates. Never believe the ears until confirmed by the eyes.

          C HAPTER 5

    T he young porter dropped Marcail’s trunk to the floor, then pulled out a kerchief and wiped his brow. “I’ll fetch yer portmanteau from the bottom of the steps next, miss.”
    “Thank you.” Marcail unhooked her gray cloak of fine wool, trimmed with deep red satin, and hung it on a hook by the door. The room was a far cry from the luxurious house she occupied in London, but charming nonetheless. The bed’s thick coverlet was decorated with yarn bows that matched the curtains, and the furniture was of good quality. As far as accommodations went, it was much better than she’d dared to hope.
    The only difficulty had been finding a place for her coach and six. This inn’s stable was small, so she’d had to send her equipment down the street to a less genteel inn with a larger stable. All told, it was a relatively minor inconvenience.
    The porter returned with her portmanteau and she pointed to a clear space beside the bed.
    “Very good, miss. They’s fresh water in yer pitcher and clean glasses, too.”
    “Thank you.”
    The porter’s bright gaze locked on her veil and bonnet as if he wished he had the nerve to ask her to remove them. “Pardon me, miss, but I was surprised to see a genteel lady like yerself comin’ into town, it not bein’ ocean bathin’ season no more.”
    The small town she’d been ordered to report to was eerily empty, as the weather had turned cold several weeks before. “I wish to enjoy the quiet.”
    “Ye’ll still find plenty t’ do if ye like walks upon the beach,” the porter said helpfully. “’Tis a grand little town, fer all that it’s not as popular as Brighton. Queen Charlotte herself stayed here one night twenty years ago! The day after she left, the lord mayor renamed two buildings and three streets after the royal family, hopin’ more o’ them might come.”
    “And did they?”
    His face fell. “No. But we’ve grown all the same. Why, the town’s twiced as big now as it was then.”
    Realizing she was about to receive an exhaustive history of Southend-on-Sea, Marcail quickly pressed some coins into the porter’s hand. “Thank you again for bringing up my luggage.”
    He backed toward the door, beaming. “It’s my pleasure, miss. If’n ye need anything else, just ring the bell and someone will come t’ see what ye need.”
    “Thank you.” Smiling, Marcail herded him from the room.
    “I’ll be glad to brush yer shoes if ye leave them outside the door,”