Page 12 of A Scoundrel in the Making

“Good Lord,” Abigail said. “Is it possible to sell them for that much?”

Elana shook her head. “Nae. The sword would be sold separately, and the jewels would be cut and sold and the metal melted down.”

“To think that the Honors survived the British invasion and Cromwell only to be sold by common thieves is unconscionable,” Reade said.

Abigail felt the same. But what self-absorbed rake cared for anything save his own pleasure? Now that she thought of it, why had he agreed to help with this assignment? He was to be her cover, the reason she might be caught in places she shouldn’t be. But who was this man, really? Why had The Raven chosen him?

“I imagine you have already eliminated many of the servants,” Reade said.

“We have,” Lady Elana said. “We also have people watching all the pawnbrokers.”

“Nothing so far, I take it?” he asked.

“Not so much as a twitch.”

“Perhaps the thief took the Honors out of Scotland,” he said.

“If so, we must follow until we find them or learn of their fate,” Elana said.

“Where do we begin?” Reade asked.

“Why, with Mr. William Russell, the self-proclaimed, direct descendent of Cromwell. We all know how long and hard Cromwell searched for the Honors. We suspect Mr. Russell has succeeded where Cromwell failed.”

Abigail blinked. “You mean Mr. William Russell, owner of Caithis Castle?”

“Exactly,” The Raven said.

“Surely, a man who openly claims to be a direct descendant of Cromwell wouldn’t be fool enough to steal the Honors.”

“What better cover than to hide in plain sight?”

Lord Reade leaned forward, attention fixed on Elana. “Is Mr. Russell one of the few who knew where the Honors were stored?”

Elena shook her head. “Nae.”