Page 72 of Bargaining with the Devil

“Lees, you said?” Bairden squinted his eyes a fraction.

“Sí, Ronald Lees.”

“The name, it doesnae ring any bells for me, but if it’s acceptable, I’ll ask my wife. She’ll keep quiet on this. She has kin in Palnackie on th’ Urr Water, farther up the Solway. She was just visitin’ no’ long ago.”

Blackmore nodded his assent, and Bairden excused himself to seek his wife in the back.

When she emerged, Mrs. Bairden smiled at each of them, pausing across from Pereira. “Is yer wife feeling more th’ thing now? It was that way for me, wi’ our oldest and middle. Richt as rain after th’ first few months were past.”

“Sí, grazas. Thank you. She’s much improved. She is settling in with Mrs. Blackmore and Miss Muir.”

“She’ll be in good hands then. Now, my husband says ye’ve questions tae do wi’ th’ free traders.” She looked towards Blackmore. “That there’s a man tryin’ tae harm yer family.”

“His name is Stephen Lymington. Right now we’re trying to determine what, if any, connection a revenue cutter captain by the name of Ronald Lees has to them. He’s the most likely point of connection with Lymington.”

She tapped her knuckles against her lips, thinking. “My sister told me, this visit last, that there’s been some trouble in Colvend wi’ th’ free traders workin’ through there,” she said slowly. “I cannae tell ye names, for I don’t ken them.”

Promising, depending. “Trouble with excisemen?”

“No’ that my sister said. I gathered it was more o’ a general unrest, something recent. She didnae speak much on it, havin’ kin by marriage engaged in th’ work and bein’ tight-lipped on account o’ that.”

“How recent?” Blackmore asked.

“Just between my last visit, which was in September, an’ now.”

The timing fit. Still, ’twas a very small clue to go on. “Will she speak to us on it?”

“Alone, she might no’. But if I come along, then aye, I believe she will,” Mrs. Bairden said decisively. “If ye can spare me a day or twa, dear?” she added, looking towards Bairden.

“For this, aye. Màire will lend an extra hand, I reckon.”

Mrs. Bairden turned back towards the three of them. “Wi’ dark falling early, it’s late in th’ day tae set out. Will it hold till tomorrow?”

“Aye, it should. I’ll return in the morning.” Blackmore cast a speaking glance towards Pereira and himself.

’Twas what made the most sense, Blackmore going since Mrs. Bairden knew him and could vouch for him, and he and Pereira remaining to keep watch here. ’Twould be best if Lucy moved to the main cottage for now, but ’twas near certain she wouldn’t do it. Should still work out though, with Pereira in the main cottage and himself in the crofter’s cottage.

And hopefully Blackmore would come back with answers. Something of help when Lymington returned and made his next move.

’Twould be soon, that. He had the tingling in his bones, told him so.

Chapter 22

She and Isobel had spent the morning getting their unexpected guests settled in: Mr. Pereira, who they both knew from Paris—another ghost from the past—and the Englishwoman Eva and her son Edmund.

Through conversation, she and Issy learned that Mr. Pereira and Eva were married, quite recently. Eva, recently widowed, was fleeing the grasping schemes of her first husband’s cousin, who would inherit a barony in Cumbria if only Edmund would obligingly die. On his way to Kirkcudbrightshire, Mr. Pereira had encountered the two as they were on the verge of being killed.

After her rescue, Eva for some reason felt her best recourse to protect both herself and Edmund was to not only travel with this man she’d just met but to marry him as soon as they were across the border into Scotland. She’d put both her faith and her life in Mr. Pereira’s hands. It seemed unfathomable.

Eva’s candid revelations lingered in her mind, leaving her disturbed for no particular reason, unsettled and uneasy. And apparently it showed, for when Quinn glanced her way as she came into the crofter’s cottage, he immediately asked, “What is it, has you troubled?”

Was she so obvious? Not so long ago, she’d been able to keep every emotion from her face. She hadn’t really even needed conscious effort, not after a while. But she’d lost that protective mask, apparently.

She disliked it. It was yet one more element that left her vulnerable.

But Quinn was unlikely to leave it alone. She also didn’t want to lie to him even though she also didn’t particularly wish to discuss it. “Eva’s situation.”

“Pereira’s a good man.”