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But what would he do with this information once he had gathered enough evidence to confirm it?

Ian could not answer that question.

Helen silently followed him out of the narrow passageway and into his room. Ian immediately walked toward the bedside table, poured a glass of water, took a huge sip, and started pacing the floor.

Helen simply stood there, by the threshold, not saying anything, just observing his frantic motions. She waited for him to speak, only Ian didn’t know what to say, where to even start.

Finally, even Helen’s abundance of patience started to deplete. “What happened out there?” she asked softly as if trying to gently wake him from a dream.

And it felt like a dream. Or rather a nightmare. Ian turned toward her, not quite knowing what to say. He had learned by now to not try and soften his words with Helen. He could be direct with her, so he was. “Do you remember how I suspected your cousin-in-law of being a traitor?”

She nodded with a small, sad smile. “How could I forget?”

“Turns out I should have been looking closer to home. I think my father is working with the Jacobites, planning the rebellion.”

Helen furrowed her brows. “What does this mean?”

“A war,” Ian said simply. “And if the Jacobites lose, it can mean death to my entire family. Regardless of whether they win or lose, it can mean blood. I don’t know the force of the planned rebellion. I don’t know how many people are involved. And I need to find out so I can better understand the realities of the situation.”

“And then what?”

He took a breath. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

And even if he did, he doubted he would tell Helen. He’d put too much weight upon her fragile shoulders. She had a lot of her own problems to deal with, and he refused to dump more of his own on top.

She didn’t seem crushed, though. On the contrary, she straightened, her head held high. “You said you think he is planning a rebellion, but you’re not sure?”

“No, what I overheard in the study is not nearly enough information to draw any conclusions. I need evidence. A lot more evidence.”

She nodded. “And how do we do that?”

He blinked at her. “We don’t do that. I do that alone.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how exactly are you planning to do that?”

He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair, pacing in agitation. “I am going to break into my father’s study late at night, break the lock on his safe, collect all the documents on the rebellion I can find, and try to gauge how many people are in this rebellion, and then I can think further from there on.”

“And what if you get caught?” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised a brow.

He turned to face her. “I won’t get caught.”

“Right.” She started tapping her foot nervously. “The same way you didn’t get caught in St. John’s house.”

“That is different.” Ian waved the issue away. “He is a spy and a vigilante. My father is just an old earl.”

“Doesn’t matter. It seems dangerous nonetheless.”

She was still wearing a dressing gown which was way too big for her. It was wrapped around her almost twice, the sash tied at her back. Her hair was carelessly falling out of her pins, and she was tapping her foot in her soft slipper.

If anyone was to judge her by outward appearance, they would think she was a little girl, playing dress up in her mother’s clothing.

But her straight posture, her confident demeanor, and the fire dancing in her eyes told a completely different story.

She was a warrior, Ian’s wee bonnie lass, a queen. And he couldn’t just dismiss her out of hand. Not that he wanted to.

Ian peeled his eyes off her and looked away, forcing himself to stop the admiring stares. The longer he looked at her, the more under her spell he fell. “And what do you propose, pray tell?”

She glanced around the room, not looking for anything in particular, more as if trying to gather her thoughts. “There is a ball tomorrow, isn’t there?”