A Most Dangerous Profession (5 page)

“Do you or do you not wish to end this debt between us?”

“Debt?” Her voice was sharp and bitter. “You
stole
from me; I don’t
owe
you anything!”

His mouth tightened and before she could say another word, he was before her, his words hissing through his teeth. “Don’t you
ever
speak to me like that again. I
own
you, worthless fool that you are, and I won’t take such disrespectful behavior!”

She yearned to use her pistol but she dared not. Not only because of the footmen, who were obviously just paid thugs, but also because Aniston was right. She was completely at his mercy. She couldn’t afford to allow her emotions to lead her into making a mistake. The man was mad and seemed to be sliding further and further into it.

So she would do anything, say anything, pretend anything, steal anything that he asked. But in the end, she would win.

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I was irritated at being sent on a pointless mission.”

He eyed her narrowly but finally nodded, satisfied with her contrite expression. “That’s better. You seem to forget that I hold what’s most precious to you in the palm of my hand.” He held out his bare hand, the skin eerily white in the mist. “Do you want me to finish this?” He closed his hand tightly, as if crushing the very air.

She swallowed convulsively. “I want to finish this so that we’re both satisfied. But you must understand this: the loss of the onyx box was not my fault. I did what I said I would do. But not only was Captain Hurst there, but his brother as well and—”

“Hold. His brother? Which one?”

She cursed her slip of tongue.
This is why I mustn’t get angry. I lose my concentration and make mistakes.
“Robert Hurst. It seems that every time you send me to fetch an onyx box, I run into him.”

Aniston appeared intrigued. “Ah! He was at Bancroft’s sale, too?”

“Of course he was there; some of the artifacts were quite impressive.”

“Did he mention the onyx box?”

“Yes. He was hoping to find another there, as were we.”

Aniston nodded slowly. “Interesting.
Very
interesting.”

“I was most unhappy to see him. He is a significant force.”

Aniston murmured, “Yes, he is.” He rubbed his chin. “So the Hursts are still pursuing the onyx boxes.”

“It seems so. Just how many are there?”

“Three.”

Damn it. He
always
knows.
She wet her dry lips. “So Hurst has one, and this unknown buyer has the other. Where’s the third?”

“I haven’t found it yet, but I will.”

Ah ha! He doesn’t know that the Hursts have already recovered it.
Though she wasn’t certain how the information was useful, it soothed her to know that Aniston wasn’t as all-powerful as she’d thought him to be.

Aniston turned his cool gaze upon her now. “Leave the final box to me. I will discover its location soon enough. Meanwhile, you will fetch the one that was recently purchased by this buyer.”

“So you know who has it?”

“Sir Lachlan Ross. I have a carriage waiting to take you first thing in the morn—”

“
No.
”

Aniston’s mouth tightened and Moira hurried
to add, “Please. I just returned and it’s been weeks since I—“ Her hands curled into fists. “Aniston, you
promised
I could see her when I returned.”

Aniston’s gaze narrowed. “But you were not successful.”

“You know it wasn’t my fault.”

He pursed his lips but then gestured toward his coach. “Fine. You may see her.”

Moira’s heart thudded hard. “She—she’s here?”

He nodded to his coachman, who rapped upon the door panel. It opened and a sharp-faced woman climbed from the carriage, pausing to say sharply to someone inside, “I said put that down and come!”

Moira’s world spun slowly, the beat of her heart so loud it drowned out all thoughts. A small foot appeared in the doorway, followed by a tousle-headed child of five years of age. The girl had long dark hair and blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes. She had a cherubic face, round with rosy lips and a snub nose.

The child’s expression darkened on seeing Aniston. But when her gaze flickered past him to Moira, it was as if the sun had broken through the clouds.

“Mama!” The small child jerked her hand free from the nurse’s as she ran forward.

“Och!” the nurse exclaimed, stomping forward. “You little brat, come back here!”

But Moira was faster. With a sob, she reached Rowena and scooped her little body up, enveloping the child in her arms.

Aniston lifted an indifferent hand to the nurse. “Let them have their moment. After all, they get so few.”

Moira buried her face in the girl’s neck as the child burst into tears and wailed, “I-I w-want t-to g-go h-home!”

“So do I, sweetheart.” Moira held her daughter close, rubbing her cheek against the child’s silky hair and kissing every inch of the dear, dear face.

She would have given her life to take Rowena home with her right now, and for a wild moment, she thought about picking up the child and running into the mist. But she’d tried that once, and she—and Rowena—had paid horribly.

Moira caught Aniston’s cold gaze over Rowena’s head and realized that the coachman was standing to one side, pistol already drawn.

Swallowing hard, Moira set the child back on the ground and stooped before her. The little face was tear streaked, the eyes red-rimmed as she hiccupped, “M-Mama, p-please t-take m-me with y-you.”

Moira’s heart ached even more. But she couldn’t afford weakness right now.
These few moments may be all she has to support her until I can come for her.
Moira brushed Rowena’s hair from her forehead and said in a calm voice, “Not this time, sweetheart, but soon. Very soon.”

“B-b-but I d-d-on’t want to go b-b-back! Miss Kimble
hitted
me and—”

Moira pulled the child closer, looking over her head at the nurse. “You
hit
her?”

The nurse looked uneasy and glanced at Aniston. He shrugged and dusted imaginary lint from his sleeve.

Seeing him so unmoved, the nurse sniffed and said in a cocky voice, “I dinna hit the lass when she’s quiet, but some days she’s whiny and willna listen weel, so I pop her upon the head and—”

Moira straightened.

The nurse squeaked and took two hurried steps behind Aniston.

He frowned and tugged his cloak closer. “Pray watch where you’re walking, foolish woman. I don’t want your dirt upon my good cloak.”

“She had better watch more than that,” Moira said furiously. Rowena’s thin body trembled, her small hands clinging so tightly around Moira’s leg that she couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.

Moira fixed her gaze on the nurse. “If this child comes to any harm under your care, there is no one in this world who will protect you. Not this cretin”—she jerked her head toward Aniston—“not the constable, not the devil himself.”

The nurse paled and glanced at Aniston, who said in an amused voice, “She is most likely telling the truth about that. She has certain abilities.” His cruel gaze then narrowed on Moira. “Of course, she can’t do anything right
now,
can she?”

Moira met his gaze steadily. “We two are almost finished.”

“We will end this when I say so, and not before.”

There was nothing more to be said. Heart heavy, Moira gave Rowena a hug and then gently disentangled the child’s arms. “Ah, sweetling, I am so glad to see you.” She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her daughter’s face. “Are you well?”

Rowena nodded, hiccupping. “I-I am learning to read.”

Moira’s heart ached. She’d wished to teach the child to read; it was yet another thing stolen from them. “Who is teaching you to read?”

“Mrs. Kimble. When she’s not mad, she likes a good story.”

Surprised, Moira looked at the nurse, who
turned red and mumbled, “She’s a bright ’un and takes to readin’ faster than me own bairns ever did.”

“Thank you,” Moira said quietly. “Thank you very much.”

After a surprised moment, the woman’s hard face softened. “Ye’re welcome. I will make sure I dinna smack her head, but ’twasn’t done in spite.”

“I appreciate that, but ’tis best if it isn’t done at all.” Moira kissed Rowena’s cheek. “We will be together soon. I promise.”

“But you said last time—”

“I know. Something changed, sweetheart. I need to leave just one more time—”

“Noooo!” Tears spilled down her cheeks again, but Rowena’s face was set with determination. “
Please
, Mama, take me with you. I will be good and I won’t make any noise and—”

Moira swooped the girl to her. “Sweetling, you
are
a good child. I can’t take you with me because it will be much too dangerous. But I promise that this will be the
last
time.” She met Aniston’s gaze. “I swear it.”

Aniston’s cold smile did nothing to ease her fear.

Collecting herself, Moira stood, Rowena held tightly against her. At her movement, the coachman cocked his pistol.

She turned her full scorn upon him. “Put that down. It could accidentally go off, and then where would your master be? God knows I wouldn’t do his bidding unless forced.”

Aniston flicked a finger and the coachman, red with anger, disarmed the pistol.

“I’ve had enough drama for one day,” Aniston said. “It’s time for Rowena to leave now.” He turned to the nurse. “Take her.”

The nurse gingerly approached Moira. “I’ll put her in the coach now, mistress.”

Moira bent down and hugged her daughter once more. “Be very brave,” she whispered in Rowena’s ear. “And read well for Mrs. Kimble. The next time I see you, you can show me all you’ve learned.”

Through sniffles, Rowena nodded.

It took every ounce of strength Moira had to make herself reach down and peel her daughter’s fingers from her own. With the release of each small finger, Moira’s heart broke a bit more.

She gently pressed Rowena’s hand into the nurse’s with a beseeching look. “Treat her well,” she whispered. “If you do, you will be compensated beyond your wildest dreams.”

The nurse’s face lit up and she said in a low voice, “I’ll treat her as if she were me own bairn.”

“No, you will treat her like
my
daughter, something you will
never
forget.”

The woman said in a grudging tone, “Fine, then. I’ll no’ hit her.”

It wasn’t much of a promise, but it was all Moira had. She watched as Rowena was placed back into the carriage, the nurse following.

Moira turned to Aniston. “This is the final errand I run for you,” she snapped. “Once this is done, I want Rowena back. If you don’t—”

“Pray don’t bother me with your empty threats. I decide when this is over, not you. Find the box, Moira, and I will consider letting that be your final task.” Aniston’s gaze flickered over her. “My carriage will fetch you in the morning to begin the journey.”

“How am I to get this box from Ross?”

Aniston looked amused. “
You
are the expert on procuring things, not I. You’ll find a way to get the box. I’m sure of it.”

“Then I need more information. Who this man is, where he lives, how to reach him—”

“The coachman will know the route to Balnagown Castle. It’s in the highlands. It will take a week and a half to reach there, perhaps longer. What else do you need to know?”

“Why did Ross purchase the box? Does he know its value?”

“I don’t think so. He bought it for his private collection. He has a very large one, from what I’ve heard, and fancies himself an expert.”

“Is he?”

“He thinks so, but I don’t believe
you’d
consider him so. You know so much more about antiquities than other people.” There was grudging respect in Aniston’s voice.

“What more do you know of him?”

“He’s wealthy, unmarried, and childless. They say he has a very fine stable. And he’s been in two duels in the last year.” Aniston shrugged. “I know nothing else.”

Moira frowned. “Two duels? What were they over? Gaming debts?”

“Other men’s wives.”

“Both times?”

“Yes.”

Finally, something she could use. “I’ll leave in the morning. I’m staying at the George.”

“I know where you’re staying,” he returned coolly before he turned and walked toward the carriage. As one of the footmen opened the door, Aniston paused. “One more thing: if you fail to bring me the box this time, I won’t be as patient as I’ve been in the past.”

“I won’t fail—providing your information is
better than what you gave me on Bancroft and Miss Beauchamp.”

Aniston’s mouth thinned. “Just find the damn box.” He climbed inside his coach, and the door closed smartly behind him.

Moira watched, her jaw clenched. She’d fetch Aniston’s damned box—but he wouldn’t get it until he’d released Rowena.

The coachman hied the horses and the coach lumbered forward, swallowed by the mist before the sound of the creaking wheels had faded.

A sob caught in Moira’s throat, but she swallowed it and lifted her chin. She would find a way to win Rowena back. And once the child was safe, Moira would follow her blood legacy and finish this game. Aniston might think he held all the cards, but she’d only begun to play.

When this ends, not even God will be able to help George Aniston.