Never Tempt a Scot by Lauren Smith Page 0,13

apron around her skirts, and it bore a few dark ink stains. “Lydia? Did you forget something at the Pump Room?”

“I . . . No . . . It’s just a rather curious thing.”

“What is?” Lysandra cleaned her hands on the cloth a footman discreetly passed to her so that she might remove some of the ink upon her fingers.

“When I returned home, Portia presented me with a letter, supposedly from you.”

“From me? Well, I have been writing, as you can see, but not to you.” Lysandra looked a little embarrassed. “I was writing to the Royal Astronomical Society.”

“So you are not to leave for London on urgent business?”

Lysandra’s brows rose. “What? No.”

Lydia removed the letter Portia had given her and held it out to her friend. Lysandra read its contents, frowning.

“It looks like my handwriting, but I’ve written no such letter to you.” Lysandra pointed to the letter. “If I had, there would be smudges on the letter, because I stained my forefinger. Whoever wrote this has made an excellent replica of my writing in hopes of tricking you.”

“Portia,” Lydia almost groaned. “What are you up to now?”

“Indeed, that is a good question.” Lysandra’s brows drew together. “She wants to lure you to London. Why?”

“Not to London, but away from our house. She even had my trunk packed. I suspect that she’s obsessing over Mr. Kincade and how to entice him into marriage, but I don’t have the faintest idea why she would want me out of the way.”

“She must be up to something rather serious, then.” Lysandra bit her bottom lip as she thought the matter over. “You’d best hurry home and see what she’s up to. Take our coach.”

“Thank you.” Lydia embraced her friend and rushed outside to wait for the Russell coach to be prepared. She had a sense that whatever her sister was up to, it had to do with Brodie Kincade and finding a way to entrap him in marriage. She could only hope that whatever scheme her younger sister had in mind had not yet been set in motion and that Lydia would be able to stop it.

4

Jem Webster and three of his men lingered in the shadows inside the tavern as they kept a careful eye on their intended target, a tall, dark-haired Scotsman who was drinking heavily with a blond-haired fellow who looked equally dangerous.

Harvey watched his boss carefully. “I don’t know about this, Jem.”

“We took the money, and there’s more where that came from when we bring Mr. Hunt that man.” Jem nodded subtly in the Scot’s direction. He could understand the reservations his men had about tackling the fellow, given his size and muscled build, but he also knew that they would do just about anything for money. “I’ll not pass up an opportunity for that kind of coin.”

Jem stroked a hand along his scruffy jaw. It had been a lean few years working at various odd jobs, usually underappreciated and always underpaid. The best work only came when it was a bit out of the gaze of the law.

So when the fancy Mr. Hunt had presented his need for a group of men to bring him a Scotsman by the name of Brodie Kincade by this evening, Jem had accepted it without a second thought. Of course, that was before he had a chance to lay eyes on the man. Still, the money was too good to pass up. If he and his men got a bit bruised, it was worth it.

“There are four of us,” Jem reminded Harvey. “He can’t fight us all and win.”

Harvey, a tall, burly fellow, rolled his shoulders and tried to look more menacing. “I hope you’re right, Jem. My jaw is only just healed from the last job.”

Jem rolled his eyes. “Well, that was your own fault for falling face-first onto that table.”

“I was thrown by a bloke we tried to grab, Jem. You sure know how to pick ’em.”

“Just be ready, Harvey.” Jem ignored his second-in-command’s complaints.

Jem and his three men moved deeper into the tavern, and at Jem’s subtle direction, they all took seats at the table beside the Scotsman and his friend. It had taken the better part of the day to locate the man called Brodie Kincade, but they finally had. Now the challenge lay in how to catch the man.

A comely wench approached their table. He and his men ordered ale and stew, and the wench wandered off to check on the other patrons. Jem carefully strained

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