once, so he told me. My brother Iain has ambitions to join the army too, so I asked Calumn if he could give the boy a bit of a head start. That’s when he offered the sabre lessons. Calumn’s good company, we have a bit of a laugh and a joke together, but that’s all there is between us.’
‘He was a soldier?’
‘A captain, no less. He doesn’t talk about it, mind, I’m not sure why. It’s a touchy subject with him.’
‘Did he fight in the Rebellion?’
‘I don’t ken. I told you, he doesn’t talk about it, and if I were you I wouldn’t go prying. Calumn Munro’s not someone who would take kindly to your poking your nose into his business.’
‘What about his family?’
Jeannie shrugged. ‘They’ve lands somewhere in the Highlands. He doesn’t talk about them either. Calumn has been a good friend to me and my brother, but you’d be wise not to get any ideas about him. He’s what we call a charmer.’ She picked up her basket at the sound of the key grating in the lock. ‘That’ll be Willie. He’ll take us to Lady Drummond.’
The Black Hole was above the portcullis, so that the prisoners held there were under almost constant surveillance by the sergeants of the guard. The conditions in the other vaults were unhealthy, but the Black Hole was positively inhumane. Lady Drummond, a tall, thin woman with a Roman nose and piercing grey eyes, shared the small space with her two daughters. She greeted Jeannie in a friendly manner, but, seeing Madeleine, immediately looked suspicious. ‘And who are you?’ she asked in a cultured voice with the lilt of the Gael.
Madeleine dropped a curtsy. ‘Madeleine Lafayette, madame. I’ve come in search of news of someone who fought under your husband.’
‘A Frenchman? They’ve all been deported, so I’m told.’
‘Yes, but Guillaume has not come home.’
‘Guillaume?’
‘Guillaume de Guise, the man I am searching for. Do you know of him?’
‘The Comte? I remember him, certainly,’ Lady Drummond conceded. ‘May I ask what he is to you?’
Quickly, Madeleine told her. ‘Please, if you know what became of him, I beg of you to tell me.’
Lady Drummond’s face softened marginally. ‘You must understand, mademoiselle, that the little I do hear I cannot be certain of. Rumours reach me, it is true, and I have my own means of communicating with the outside world, but—knowledge can be a very dangerous thing, in times like these. If I am discovered …’
The door at the foot of the stairs was opened and Willie MacLeish’s voice bid them hurry before they got him into trouble. Despairingly, Madeleine picked up her basket. ‘You’ve lost everything because your husband chose the Prince. I’m trying to prevent the same thing happening to Guillaume.’
Lady Drummond pursed her lips. ‘There is something. It surprised me, for it did not sound like the de Guise I knew, but—there is no saying what war will do to a man, and there cannot be two men with such a distinctive name. I can’t promise anything, mademoiselle, but if you’ll give me a little time I think I can find out his whereabouts. I’ll send a message through Jeannie, one way or another. Tomorrow, the next day at the latest.’
‘Thank you, madame, thank you so much,’ Madeleine said fervently, kissing Lady Drummond’s hand and dropping a deep curtsy before she hurried down the steep stairs. The temptation to look up as she passed under the portcullis was strong, but she resisted.
Calumn was waiting near the top of Castlehill. Madeleine and Jeannie made a pretty picture as they approached, striking enough for most men on the busy thoroughfare to take a second glance. Jeannie sashayed confidently through the crowds, casting flirtatious sidelong glances to the left and right, the deep red of her hair glinting in the sunshine like a summons. Beside her, Madeleine’s fey looks and flaxen hair were ethereal, her step as graceful as a dancer’s. ‘I take it your visit was a success then,’ he said when they came into earshot.
‘I’ll know soon. Lady Drummond has promised to send me a message through Jeannie.’
They were at the junction of West Bow. Jeannie stopped to take her baskets from Calumn. ‘This is where I leave you. I’ll be in touch once I’ve had word from her ladyship.’
‘Remind your brother to expect me on Wednesday,’ Calumn said.
Jeannie glanced over at Madeleine. ‘Aye, provided you don’t get distracted,’ she said with a teasing smile, heading off down the hill.
Back at his lodging, Calumn steered Madeleine towards the settle in the reception room. ‘I’ve asked Jamie’s mother to serve us dinner. I’ve told her you’re a distant relative, on your way to London to take up a post as a governess.’
‘A governess!’
‘I had to think of something to save her sensibilities,’ Calumn said, ‘though God knows, you look no more like a governess than a laundry maid. You can use my spare room again tonight, it will save you the hunt for other lodgings.’
‘You are very kind, but I don’t think it would be right.’ It would most definitely be wrong. Once again, Madeleine thanked the stars for the cold grey sea which, she sincerely trusted, would protect her hitherto spotless reputation. There would be questions when she returned, but she was relying on Guillaume’s presence and her father’s relief at their safe return to plug any gaps which her own imagination could not fill. It grieved her to think of deceiving Papa, but really, it was his own fault for not believing.
‘I could ask Jamie’s mother to recommend somewhere,’ she suggested, strangely loath to do so. Because she was tired, she told herself, not because she actually wanted to stay here.
‘You could, but you’ve seen how crowded the city is, you’d likely have to share.’
‘I didn’t think about that. But it wouldn’t be right for me to stay here. People would think—they would say that—it wouldn’t be proper.’
Calumn laughed. ‘I’ve told you, they think you’re a distant relative. Anyway, isn’t it a bit late to be worrying about the proprieties after last night?’
She stared into those perfectly blue eyes of his, searching for his meaning. Did he remember? Madeleine folded her arms nervously across her chest, realised how defensive the gesture was and placed her hands once more in her lap. ‘You’re right. I should have thought about it before. I shouldn’t have stayed here last night.’
‘Why not?’ Calumn sprawled in the seat, but he was looking at her with unnerving penetration.
She twisted her hands together, suddenly nervous, and moved to the large chair opposite him. ‘I should have told you before. I’m not what you think I am. In fact, I am Guillaume’s betrothed,’ she confessed baldly.
Calumn looked remarkably unperturbed. ‘I guessed it must be something like that, even though you did your best to lead me into believing you were just his mistress.’
‘You guessed!’
‘You’re not a very good liar. That vagueness about your family, and when I
