Chapter Thirty-Six

Six Weeks Later

“We’ve found it.” Irene Pearson strode into Mac’s office, a smile of triumph on her face.

Mac looked up from the letter he’d been reading. “You’re sure it’s the one?”

“Quite so.” She placed a small, hinged box on his desk blotter.

He flipped up the lid, glanced at the box’s contents, and met Miss Pearson’s gaze. “Good work, Miss Pearson. I’d damned near given up on locating this. I should’ve known you’d ferret it out.”

“I spotted the piece in a merchant’s shop, quite a distance from London. The shopkeeper admitted he’d obtained it through a rather dubious source.”

“Be sure to look into the man’s suppliers,” Mac said. “God knows who he’s been dealing with.”

“Agent O’Dowd and I have planned a more thorough investigation. But first, I wanted to get the locket into your hands,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going. I have an appointment with an informant within the hour.”

“Good enough,” he said. “And Miss Pearson—well done. The Colton Agency is fortunate to have you aboard.”

She hiked her chin a fraction of an inch. “Thank you, Campbell. That means a great deal to me.”

The door closed quietly behind her. Alone with his thoughts, Mac reread the letter from his sister he’d set aside when Miss Pearson arrived. Despite the heartbreak she’d suffered with the unexpected death of her husband some eighteen months earlier, Daphne clung tightly to her cheerful demeanor. Mac had journeyed home to the Highlands soon after Rose had departed on her voyage back to America, attending to needed business regarding their family home and ensuring Daphne would want for nothing when he was an ocean away.

An ocean away. The words drummed in his thoughts.

The idea of leaving London and his investigative pursuits behind tore at him. Since he’d left his home in the Highlands, he’d scrapped and fought and done whatever it took to bring scoundrels to justice, first as a journalist, and later, as a covert operative for the Colton Agency. He had his duty—and that duty was here, in the city. One of the men who’d attacked Rose still roamed free. He hungered to see him brought to justice.

Leaning back in his chair, he studied the patterns in the tin ceiling as his thoughts roamed. He’d dedicated his adult life to a quest for truth. Through gritty investigations, he’d confronted evil and lived to tell about it. Tracking down the most devious criminals in the queen’s empire had hardened him. He’d seen justice done. And through it all, the Coltons and their band of investigators had become like family. In a sense, the Colton Agency was in his blood.

For a time, that had been enough to fill the void in his soul, a wound he’d believed nothing and no one could heal.

Until the moment Rose ran smack into him on a bustling street.

In that moment, it was as if he’d been reborn. The hope he’d dared not hold in his heart had flickered back to life.

As a youth, he’d foolishly walked away from Rose on his quest to seek his fortune in London, to sate his hunger for digging out the truth and finding justice.

But now, the hunger within him had shifted. He closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye, Rose beckoned him to her side. So very beautiful.

So very willing to love him in spite of the years apart, in spite of the pain that had pierced their hearts.

When she’d left for America, he’d promised he’d come to her.

It was high time he honored his pledge.

The very thought of leaving London and the Colton Agency cut to the bone.

But he’d walk away from it all to claim Rose for his own.

The door hinges squawked a low protest as the door swung open. Matthew Colton entered, his expression somber.

“Jennie tells me you’ve booked passage on The Atlantic Goddess.” The man was nothing if not direct.

Mac shrugged. “What of it?”

“Am I to assume you won’t be back?”

“That’s up for debate.” Mac plowed a hand through his hair. “Now that Rose is back in New York, she may well come to her senses.”

“Which is a definite possibility,” Colton agreed. “You’ve no time to waste, Campbell. Any fool can see you’re bloody mad for her.”

“That would be the understatement of the century.”

Colton smiled. “In that case, be sure your blasted arse is on that ship tomorrow.”