The blackguard scrambled to his feet. “You’ve no right to keep me here.”
“Och, stop blathering like a bairn. You should save your breath to cool your porridge. That is if we remember to feed you.”
“You will come with us quietly, or we’ll drag you to the castle.”
Mackenzie nodded to the man’s trousers and scrunched his nose. “If you’re a good wee laddie I might lend you a clean pair of breeches.”
“Breeches?” the rogue scoffed. “I hear you Highlanders wear dresses.”
“Enough!” Fabian had no patience for their petty quarrels, not when he had more pressing matters on his mind. “What’s your name?”
The rogue hesitated. “What does it matter?”
“Your name,” Fabian repeated.
“It’s … it’s Aubrey.”
“Aubrey?” Mackenzie snorted. “And you have the nerve to tease me for wearing dresses.”
While Mackenzie continued baiting the prisoner, Isaac and Freddie came bounding towards them.
“Lady Ravenscroft said you might need help, my lord.” Freddie scanned the stranger, one corner of his mouth curling up in disdain. “Is this the crook who came ashore?”
Fabian nodded. “Take him to the dungeon. I’m afraid he’s not ready to leave us just yet.”
Aubrey craned his neck and gazed across the landscape. He could run, but Fabian would catch him before he’d taken two steps. Being outnumbered, Aubrey had no option but to follow them back to the castle.
Descending the steps into the dungeon, Fabian led the prisoner through the dank underground chamber to the row of cramped cells.
“You can’t leave me in here.” Aubrey gripped the iron railings and peered into the dark room beyond. “What’s that godawful smell?”
Mackenzie sniggered. “I think you’ll find that’s your trousers.”
“Mackenzie will arrange for a brazier and firewood, candles and bedding.” Fabian unlocked the door and gestured for the man to step inside.
A chorus of shrill squeaks accompanied the scratching on the cobblestones. Aubrey swung around. “You expect me to sleep with the rats?”
“It’s a temporary measure. Mackenzie will ensure you’re as comfortable as possible. Under the circumstances, you should count your blessings. I am within my rights to shoot trespassers.”
“Aye, if you’re good I might find you a chamber pot, save you piddling in your trousers.”
Aubrey growled, but Mackenzie shoved him into the cell and closed the door.
“Can I leave you to deal with Aubrey?” Fabian said, eager to return to his chamber and discuss the matter with his wife.
“Aye, I might fetch Willie and have him recite his poetry. As torture goes, that’s worse than spending a few hours on the rack.”
Fabian stepped closer to Mackenzie and lowered his voice. “I trust you to take care of the key and ensure the man is fed and watered.”
“You needn’t worry on that score, my lord.”
Fabian inclined his head. “Then I shall leave you here while I attend to Lady Ravenscroft.” He turned on his heels and marched back to the narrow flight of stairs leading up to the bailey.
As Fabian raced back through the castle to his chamber, he recalled what he knew of Lillian’s scandalous past. The gossip weaving its way through the ballrooms was that Lillian had given herself to her betrothed before having the sense to exchange vows. Lord Martin found the lady to be far too free with her passions and consequently broke the engagement. Fearing her brother’s wrath, Martin fled to Italy. Vane caught him and challenged him to a duel. The ladies paid homage to Vane’s heroic actions. The gentlemen blamed Lillian’s loose morals when the poor lord died.
So what the blazes did Lord Cornell have to do with it all?
Fabian stopped outside his bedchamber door in an effort to calm his breathing. If he hoped to help Lillian, he had to hear the truth. Whatever had happened in the past, clearly Cornell still held a grudge.