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Chapter 19

27 December

The next morning Nash was keeping vigil at Robbie’s bedside, as he had the night before, when Ailie arrived to change the bandage.

“The wound looks raw and ugly but ’tis not festering,” she said with a hopeful smile. Robbie winced as she applied some brandy to the gash.

“Waste of good brandy,” Robbie muttered. He reached for the flask. “At least give me the remains.” She obliged and he drank it down. “Ah, now that’s better.”

Nash watched as Ailie applied the clean bandage and then circled Robbie’s head with fresh linen and tied it off. Sitting back in her chair, she folded her hands and looked at Nash.

“Now that we know Robbie will live, I’d have the truth of it. The others are eager to know as well. What happened?”

Nash exchanged a look with Robbie, who had suddenly gone silent. Letting out a sigh of resignation for the story he must tell, Nash said, “Robbie and I have been working for the government, Ailie. Not just now but before, in Manchester last August.”

She shot him am incredulous look. “You were in Manchester when the massacre took place?”

“We were. When the invitation to come to Scotland presented itself, Lord Sidmouth, who fears rebellion above all, asked us to be on the lookout for George Kinloch, the man who stirred all of Dundee with his speech. Things being tense in Scotland, Sidmouth wanted the man back in Edinburgh for trial. It was believed Kinloch might have come to Arbroath.”

“You are government spies?” She spewed out the last word as if the very notion was repugnant, which, to her, it probably was.

Nash lowered his gaze. “We are.”

“So, you thought to capture him and turn him over to his gaolers?” This time, her voice was tinged with anger. Her color was high and her lips pressed together.

Nash tried to summon a defense even he did not believe in. He met her infuriated gaze, fearing what he saw in her beautiful eyes. “That was the initial plan, yes.”

She rose from her chair and shot Nash a look of stunned outrage. “All this time! You have heard me defend the man as wanting only good for Scotland. None in our family—your hosts, I might remind you—ever argued for Kinloch’s capture. Yet, behind our backs, you went to town to spy on him, didn’t you? Now that I think of it, there were many times only one of you was around. I can scarce believe you capable of such duplicity, such deceit, even if you are English!”

She turned on her heels and bolted for the door, slamming it behind her.

“Well,” said Robbie, “that wraps it up with a bow, doesn’t it? Now the Mistress of the Setters will have neither of us.”

“We are truly unmasked,” said Nash with a look of deep regret. “I fear our deception has cost me Ailie’s good opinion.” And her love. “I did foresee this happening, you’ll recall, and I argued against the mission.”

Robbie nodded. “You did. I was a fool to think Kinloch’s guards might behave as the gentleman they protected.”

“That is not my point. We never should have tried to take Kinloch in the first place. He came back, you know. He didn’t want to leave me alone with you bleeding onto the pavement. Even offered to fetch a physician.”

“Did he? I seem to recall someone saying the good Mr. Wilson hurried to the scene when summoned.”

“That was not Kinloch. Ailie arrived and offered to go for the physician, which was fortunate. I urged Kinloch to leave while he could.”

“It wasn’t he who shot me; it was that hot-headed Lachy character.”

“I’m sure he is still in Arbroath somewhere with his companions, unless they hail from Dundee. Only two cabins were booked on the Panmure.”

“Alas, we cannot pursue him, Nash, much as I’d like. The story would expose our work for Sidmouth.”

“You are right, of course. ’Tis best you accept your scar as the only souvenir you will have from this escapade. At least I still have a twin brother.”

“I regret my scar will not be under my hair, as is yours. It will, however, serve as a reminder of the day you rescued me, an ironic twist to the many times I have saved you from harm.”

Nash ran his hand through his hair, feeling the scar left by the yeoman’s saber. “Hadn’t thought of it like that. Anyway, ’tis time you stopped coming to my rescue. Let me design and sail ships and, if you must, use your courage, which you have in spades, to go about the Crown’s business.”

“I might. Right now, the only thing that appeals is a night of cards in my club.”

“Sidmouth will have to be told,” said Nash, knowing it would be an unpleasant business at best.