When the Rogue Returns Read Free Page B

her sister a long moment, then lifted her chin. Yes, she did. She deserved a husband who didn’t hide his ulterior motives behind his reserve. Who didn’t run off without saying goodbye.
    Who didn’t collude with her family to steal things.
    “He only wanted to use you,” Jacoba added.
    Like you and Gerhart? Isa nearly said.
    It was dawning on her that she also deserved better than to be used by her kith and kin. She had a child to consider. It was one thing to let them use her , but it would be quite another to let them use her child. And they would surely find a way to do it.
    “Shall I fetch you something?” Jacoba asked, all soothing kindness now that she’d made her point. “You have to keep your strength up for the babe, you know. Perhaps some of those summer peaches you love?”
    “Yes, thank you,” she murmured.
    As soon as Jacoba was gone, Isa flipped back to the article she’d been reading. Mr. Gordon had told the paper that his main regret in leaving Paris was that he had to leave his French apprentices behind. They didn’t want to go to a land as wild and barren as Scotland. So now he would have to train new ones in Edinburgh, and that would take time.
    Her heart began to pound. She tore out the article, then tossed the rest of the paper into the fire so Jacoba and Gerhart wouldn’t figure out that she was planning something.
    Was she? It was a mad idea at best, to think she could convince a stranger to hire her as his apprentice and take her with him to Scotland. How was she supposed to manage it?
    By steeling her heart and swallowing her fears. It would take strength and courage to get away. And she had to get away. She dared not stay with her family any longer if she wanted to have a respectable future.
    Papa had left her Mama’s ruby ring, which might cover the cost of the passage if this Mr. Gordon wouldn’t agree to pay for it. And she had her talent. All she had to do was show the jeweler what she was capable of, and be honest with him about what she wanted. If he had any heart at all, he might be swayed when she told him her soldier husband was dead.
    It was almost true, after all. Victor might as well be dead to her, along with her old life and all it meant toher. If he’d wanted to find her, he could have, and so far he’d made no effort.
    Tears stung her eyes, and she fought them back. No more tears allowed. No more waiting and hiding from life. If she was to save herself and her child, that must all end.
    She would be Mausi no more.

1

London
    September 1828
    V ICTOR C ALE PACED the foyer of Manton’s Investigations in an unassuming town house on Bow Street, praying that his longtime friend Tristan Bonnaud was here today. Tristan had to convince Dominick Manton, owner of the investigative concern, to try Victor out as an investigator.
    It wasn’t as if he didn’t have useful skills—he was fluent in six languages, he had decent aim, and he’d already done some investigative work. It might even be considered an asset that he’d recently been discovered to be cousin to Maximilian Cale, the Duke of Lyons and one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in England.
    Most important, Tristan wouldn’t hold the crimes of Victor’s father against him, which was refreshing. Sometimes he felt as if he wore his father’s actions like a brand, even though Max never so much as alluded to them. Indeed, Max went out of his way to treat his newfound cousin well.
    That was the trouble. Max seemed determined to show him off in high society, where Victor could never feel comfortable. A childhood spent in English regimental camps and three years in the Prussian army had hardly prepared him for such a life. Nor had his brief, ill-fated marriage to a lying thief.
    He scowled.
    “Mr. Manton will see you now.”
    Victor turned to find Dominick Manton’s butler, Mr. Skrimshaw, standing there in a bright salmon waistcoat, blue Cossacks, and a coat so over-braided and frogged in gold that he