Page 109 of My Highland Love

The Amelia never docked in London, but did arrive back in Boston three weeks later. Two months ago, another ship owned by Landen Shipping arrived in the southern dock at Rotherhithe, Scotland. Price Ardsley had been aboard the ship.

Marcus picked up the envelope that contained the report on Elise and tossed it to Justin. He caught it and they made eye contact.

“You have one hour.” Marcus looked at Kiernan. “Then I leave for Glasgow.”

* * *

Marcus paused on the boardwalk outside the shabby pawnbroker's shop and scanned the dock. Despite the early hour, hackneys passed in both directions on the street beside him and Justin, and sailors strode along the walkways, while others loaded and unloaded supplies and goods. A woman, likely one of the notoriously dishonest public house landlords the riverside teemed with or one of the brothel madams, hurried across the road. This was the neighborhood Elise had been in when Daniel found her. Marcus shuddered at what could have happened to her, then remembered what had happened to her less than half an hour from Ashlund.

“Are you all right?” Justin asked.

Marcus nodded, then entered the shop. A small man stood behind the counter in the rear of the room, his back to them as he examined an item Marcus assumed belonged to the man who stood on the other side of the counter. The man behind the counter turned. His gaze fell first on Marcus, then flicked to Justin and returned to Marcus. His eyes widened. Marcus glanced at the gold pocket watch the man clutched before the hand disappeared behind his back. Marcus strode toward the man with Justin following. The customer turned. He didn't step aside as they stopped beside him, only scrutinized Justin, who stood closest.

“Do we know one another?” Justin asked with a lift of his brow.

The man gave a rough laugh. “Nae, canna' say I've had the pleasure.”

Justin turned to the man behind the counter. “Are you the proprietor, sir?”

The man shifted uneasily. “I dinna' know as I'd say the proprietor.”

“What are ye talking about, Jack?” the customer cut in. “You owned this shop your whole life. Got it from your dad.”

“Bart,” Jack growled, “mind your business.” Jack scurried toward the far end of the counter. He flipped a section of the counter up, passed through, and hurried toward Bart. Jack pressed the watch into his hand. “Be on your way,” he growled, and shoved Bart toward the door.

“Now, see here,” Bart began, but halted when his gaze met Marcus's. He looked from Marcus to Justin. “Bloody gentry. Think they own the world.” He continued grumbling as he shuffled toward the door.

The hustle and bustle of passing hackneys and men's shouts filled the room as he opened the door, then cut off abruptly when the door banged shut.

Jack hurried back behind his counter. He stopped across from Marcus and Justin. “Now, what can I do for you gentleman?”

From inside his jacket pocket, Marcus produced the pawn ticket for Elise's wedding band and placed it on the counter. “I am here about this ring.”

The shop owner picked up the paper and began reading it. “Ahh, yes, I knew her husband would come for this one day. Yes, I did,” he added as he scurried toward a curtained doorway in a corner behind the counter. “A fine piece of jewelry, this one. No' something a man is likely to be pleased about his wife selling.” Jack paused, hand on the curtain and looked over his shoulder. “Your wife” He looked from Justin to Marcus. “Er, your wife, m'lord?”

Marcus nodded.

“I can see you have the situation well in hand.” Jack disappeared behind the curtain.

A moment later, Jack burst through the curtain, a fragment of folded velvet in hand. He laid the fabric on the counter before Marcus and unwrapped it. Marcus stared at the gold band glistening against the black fabric.

“I—” he began.

“Well, there you are,” Justin interrupted. “Just as you knew it would be.” Justin looked at him. “That'll teach you something of a woman's wrath.”

Marcus stared blankly at him.

Justin turned to Jack. “You know how women are.”

“Oh, indeed, m'lord. Indeed, I do.”

Justin produced a roll of banknotes from his pocket. “How much did you pay her?”

Jack picked up the paper. “Here it is.” He pointed a bony finger at the figure scrawled in the bottom corner of the paper. “Five sovereign.”

Justin counted out ten pound notes. “I trust this will account for your efforts.”

Jack's eyes glittered. “Aye, m'lord. Indeed, it will, indeed, it will.”