Page 55 of Who’s That Earl

“Of course,” he fairly shouted, cutting through Mrs. Murdoch’s agitated babble. “I’m going down to the Thistle and Crown.”

“The pub? At a time like this?” squeaked Esme.

The astonished housekeeper drew herself up straight. “My lord! Have you forgotten you’re the Earl of Magnus now?”

“Not at all, ma’am.” He shrugged into his greatcoat, then laid a hand on her shoulder and beamed down at her. “But just in the nick of time, I’ve remembered I’m Tommy Sutherland too.”

As he expected, awkwardness descended when he swung open the door to the Thistle and Crown and stepped into its warmth. Conversation had steamed the window and seemed to hang heavy in the air. A moment passed, in which one man laughed heartily at the joke he’d just told, before another nearby jostled him into silence with an elbow. Elspeth Shaw paused in the act of thumping two pewter mugs of ale onto a table, causing foam to slosh down a fellow’s shirtfront. The man yelped in protest, then swallowed whatever oath he’d been about to speak and tugged off his wool cap instead. Others hastily followed, until Thomas raised a hand to halt their unwelcome obeisance.

“Nay, lads. Go on about your business. I’ve only come to speak with Ross.”

All eyes traveled to the bar, where Ross stood polishing a glass with a linen rag. Ross merely looked at him, not a bit deferential, eventually jerking his chin in a sort of greeting. “Aye, then. Go on.”

Still, Thomas did not approach. He knew he’d left this conversation too long, seeing the wariness in the face of one of his oldest friends, a man who must now wonder how he was to act before the new earl.

It was pointless to deny that Thomas’s change in status made a difference between them. But because for more than a month now he’d been too embarrassed to seek out Ross and Theo, to shake their hands and beg their pardon for his deception, he’d let the title become a far greater barrier than it might have been.

“I need your help, Ross,” he said simply. “Yours and Theo’s. If you’re willing.”

Ross gave the glass a final swipe and set it aside. “Might do.”

It wasn’t yes. Nor, thank God, was it no. As Thomas stepped closer, noise rushed in to fill the space between them, as if the small crowd had previously agreed that carrying on their own conversations was by far the best cover for listening in on the one about to take place between the earl and the publican.

When he reached the polished oak slab on which generations of Ross men had served countless pints, Thomas laid an elbow on the bar and leaned close enough that he could not be easily overheard. “It concerns Mrs. Higginbotham.”

Ross’s eyes scanned the pub, refusing to meet Thomas’s. “Th’ way I heard tell it, th’ lass wants nowt tae do with you.”

“Aye,” Thomas readily conceded. “And I may never change her mind. But she may be in danger again. I have to do something. And I canna save her on my own.” Ross said nothing, though his gaze ceased to flit about and focused on some distant point. “You’ll not believe me if I say I’d rather this thing had never come between us.” The other man made a scoffing noise in his throat. Who, given the choice, would rather be a poor man than an earl? “I’ve not forgotten that you saved my worthless hide more than once, Eleazor Ross,” Thomas continued, drawing the man’s narrowed blue eyes to him. “Now I’m asking you to help me save her. Please.”

“That’ll do,” he said, shaking his head and reaching out a hand to slap Thomas on the shoulder. “But call me Eleazor again, and I’ll break your jaw…Magnus.”

“Fair enough.” Relief rushed from his chest in a huff of laughter. “Now, where will we find Theo?”

Ross’s only answer was to reach behind the bar for a broom, lifting its handle to knock three times on the ceiling. In a few moments, a breathless Davina threw open the door behind him, revealing the steep wooden staircase that led to the family’s rooms above.

“Whisht, Ross,” she scolded. “Didn’t I just get Da settled in for the night? And now he’s wonderin’ what’s the trouble.”

Ross waved off her complaint. “Fetch your mantle, lass. Go and tell your fella that ’is lordship’s darkened the door o’ the Crown at last, an’ is askin’ after ’im.”

Davina, who had paid Thomas no mind until that moment, jerked in surprise, favored him with a wide-eyed stare, and scampered back up the stairs.

Theo’s broad shoulders filled the Crown’s doorway before Thomas had downed half a mug of ale. “Ye sent for me?” His dark brown gaze flitted between Thomas and Ross.

With his rag, Ross shooed two men from the table in the secluded chimney nook, declaring their chess match a draw, and motioned Theo and Ross to the empty chairs. “Now, then,” he said, pulling over a third chair and straddling it, “tell Theo what you told me.”

Though he knew Ross referred to what he’d revealed about Jane, Thomas first laid a hand on Theo’s iron-thewed forearm. “Years ago, you first honored me with your friendship. I hope you’ll think of me as your friend still.”

For a moment, Theo said nothing. Ross broke the silence. “Och, go on, then. Yer ma’ll be thrilled to know her wee lad’s friends with an earl.” When Theo at last cracked a smile, Ross continued, “You’ll always be one of us, Magnus.” He spoke the title with a teasing edge. “Didna ye ken? Now, what’s this about Mrs. Higginbotham bein’ in danger?”

“Mrs. Higginbotham?” Theo echoed, and the concern in his voice warmed Thomas’s heart.

“When she was little more than a girl, her father cut her off, told her to leave,” he explained, speaking low. “Tonight I had a letter, addressed to her from her brother, saying that their father was coming to Edinburgh to find her.”

Ross scowled. “I dinna suppose he means to make amends.”

“Nay,” Thomas agreed. “He’s got the start of me for sure, though I haven’t as far to go. Still, I must get there quick as I can to warn her.”

“The mail coach is your fastest bet, but it won’t come through again for two days.”