Highland Rogue, London Miss. Margaret Moore
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with his money or what documents he’s been signing. She’s afraid the situation will get worse unless something is done.
“I would go to Edinburgh myself, but if I arrive and start making inquiries, people will wonder why. Nobody will know you, though, Esme. We didn’t have a chance to introduce you to anybody before …” He hesitated for the briefest of moments. “Before we left for London.”
And a new life, far away from Lady Catriona McNare, the Mistress of Duncombe.
“There’s nobody I trust more when it comes to assessing legal documents than you, Esme,” Jamie continued. “You’ll be able to tell if there’s anything wrong with the ones the earl’s been signing.”
“I suppose you’ll want me to get the documents?” MacLachlann asked.
“I don’t want you to steal them,” Jamie clarified, much to Esme’s relief. “I want you to get Esme into the earl’s house so she can see the documents.”
So much for her relief.
“What exactly do you mean, get me into his house?” Esme demanded. “House-breaking is against the law, punishable by—”
“I don’t mean break into the house,” Jamie interrupted. “I simply want Quinn to help you get near the documents so you can read them.”
“Hence, subterfuge,” MacLachlann supplied.
“But what sort of subterfuge?” Esme persisted.
“We need an excuse to get you into the earl’s house without raising suspicion. If I wouldn’t be welcome there—and I certainly would not—neither would my sister,” Jamie said. “Quinn, you’ve mentioned that your older brother, the Earl of Dubhagen, has been living in the West Indies for the past ten years, although he still keeps a town house in Edinburgh. It’s occurred to me that if he returned to Edinburgh, he’d surely be invited to any fetes or parties or dinners Catriona and her father would host. I’ve heard that all the sons of the Earl of Dubhagen were remarkably similar in appearance, so I thought—”
MacLachlann straightened as if Jamie had slapped him. “You want me to impersonate Augustus?”
“In a word, yes,” Jamie said, “and since your brother is married, you’ll need a wife.”
The full implication of what her brother was proposing hit Esme like a runaway horse.
“No!” she cried as she jumped to her feet, every part of her rebelling at this ludicrous plan and especially at the thought of pretending to be MacLachlann’s wife. “That’s ridiculous! And illegal! There must be some other way. Some legal way to—”
“Perhaps—if we knew what exactly was happening and who’s behind it, if indeed there’s anything illegal going on at all,” Jamie replied with remarkable patience. “It could be that Catriona is mistaken and her father’s losses are simply the result of poor business decisions. If he’s legally competent to make those decisions, there’s nothing she can do. But she has to know, one way or the other, and that’s the assistance I intend to give her—or rather, that I hope you’ll help me to give her.”
“But why must we impersonate anybody?” Esme protested. “MacLachlann is still a nobleman, isn’t he? Wouldn’t he be invited? Couldn’t we say I’m a friend of his family who’s come to visit? Why must we pretend to be other people?”
“I’m a disgraced, disowned nobleman,” MacLachlann said without a hint of shame or remorse. “I can’t move in the same social circles anymore. Augustus and his wife can.”
To her chagrin, he no longer seemed upset or even slightly dismayed by this incredible scheme.
“What if we’re caught?” she demanded. “I’m not going to prison for Catriona McNare!”
“I have no intention of going to prison, either,” MacLachlann said with infuriating calm, “but since it’s my brother I’ll be impersonating, I have no fear of that. As Jamie no doubt took into consideration when he concocted this scheme, Augustus has a holy horror of scandal. He’ll never charge his own brother with a crime. He’d be only too happy to pass it off as some sort of joke on my part.”
Jamie’s little smile and the looks the men exchanged told her that Jamie was, indeed, well aware of this possible outcome.
Nevertheless, that didn’t satisfy Esme. “Your brother might not want to see you imprisoned, but he might have no such qualms about charging me with impersonating his wife.”
“No need to worry, little plum cake,” MacLachlann said with what could be genuine joy. “I know—and can prove—a few things about my dear brother’s past indiscretions that he won’t want revealed to the general public. That should keep you safe from prosecution.”
“Surely people will realize I’m not the earl’s wife.”
“Nobody in Edinburgh’s ever met her,” MacLachlann said. “They met and married in the West Indies.”
He sounded as if he thought there were no more objections to be made, but there were other considerations—important ones, if they would be living together as husband and wife. They would be cohabiting the same house, sharing the same domestic arrangements. People would assume they shared more than that. Who could say what an attractive wastrel like MacLachlann might also assume? That he would be able to …? That she might even be eager?
The thought was … horrifying. Yes, terrible and awful and she would never succumb to any attempted seduction by him, or any man, no matter how handsome or charming he was. “I have no wish to pretend to be your wife, in any capacity or for any reason!” she firmly declared.
MacLachlann coolly raised a brow. “Not even if your brother asks you?”
He had her there, and he knew it. She could see it in his mocking blue eyes.
“Esme,” Jamie quietly interjected. “Never mind. I can see my plan isn’t going to work.”
Her brother came to her and took her hands in his. Only once before had Esme seen such an expression of defeat in Jamie’s eyes, and this time, she had put it there. “I know I’m asking a tremendous boon, so if you refuse, I won’t blame you. Quinn and I will find another way to get the information we seek.”
Yes, they probably could—but it might be another way that would send Jamie to Edinburgh and bring him back into Lady Catriona’s orbit, to have his heart broken again, or that old wound reopened.
To be sure, Jamie’s plan was not without risk, and she didn’t want to help Lady Catriona McNare, but how could she deny his request when he had never asked anything of her before? He was the only family she had. Their mother had died of a fever two days after giving her birth and their father of heart trouble when she was twelve and Jamie an eighteen-year-old solicitor’s clerk. Not only that, he allowed her liberties few other men would. What was this risk when measured against all that he had done for her and the way he let her almost practise law? “Very well, Jamie, I’ll do it.”
MacLachlann picked a piece of lint from his lapel. “Now that that’s all settled, I’ll write to my brother’s solicitor informing him that the Earl of Dubhagen has decided to return to Edinburgh and ask him to hire suitable servants, as well as see that the house is made ready for our arrival.
“Your sister’s going to need some new clothes,” he added, addressing Jamie as if she wasn’t there. “Her current wardrobe is hardly suitable for an earl’s wife.”
Esme opened her mouth to protest, then realized his observation might have some merit. While her clothes were clean, tidy and serviceable, an earl’s wife would have more fashionable garments made of more expensive material.
“Esme will have plenty of new clothes,” Jamie assured MacLachlann as he went to his desk and pulled out a book of cheques. “You should, too. I’ll also pay for the hire of a coach to take you to Edinburgh, and you’ll