“Thank you.” Robert didn’t turn as the innkeeper hurried off. “Ross is riding a brute of a horse.”

“Ah. Then I shall become a horse lover.”

Robert smiled as he turned away from the window. “You are very quick. Are you ready?”

Moira smoothed her gown. “Oh, yes.”

Out in the hallway, swift steps sounded. The door opened and a man entered. He was short set and incredibly fat, sporting three chins under a flushed face. He was dressed modestly, his neckcloth and sober coat befitting a solicitor.

His gaze flickered to Robert, and then blinked with surprise on finding Moira.

Robert bowed. “Good afternoon. I am Robert Hurst. I take it you are Carmichael?”

“Aye, so I am.” The man bowed and said with a soft burr, “I’m Sir Lachlan Ross’s man o’ business.” He cast an uncertain glance at Moira.

Robert flicked a careless finger in her direction. “My wife, Mrs. Hurst.”

He offered no other introduction and after an awkward pause, the solicitor bowed in her direction and mumbled, “Pleased to meet ye.”

She curtsied, then looked expectantly at Robert for a more formal introduction.

Robert pretended not to notice, studying the tip of his cane, as if the silver wasn’t as polished as he liked.

Mr. Carmichael broke the silence with an awkward laugh. “I’m certain ye’re both tired from yer trip. Sir Lachlan wished to see a colt he’s thinkin’ o’ purchasing, so he came as well. He’ll be most anxious to—”

Heavy footsteps in the hallway announced the approach of Sir Lachlan. Robert stepped to the side, blocking Moira from the man’s view.

Ross was expensively dressed, his boots polished until they shone. He was tall with broad shoulders, and gave off a vigorous air. His reddish brown hair was faded and streaked with white at each temple. His eyes were a startling blue, his nose beaked over a firm mouth, giving him the air of a hawk.

Ross’s gaze flickered over Robert, touching upon the sapphire pin in his cravat and lingering on the sheen of his boots.

Robert didn’t display any interest other than a mild lift of his brows.

Mr. Carmichael cleared his throat in a ponderous manner. “Sir Lachlan, this is Mr. Hurst, who has come to see about the artifact.”

“Mr. Hurst.” Ross bowed.

“Ross.” Robert inclined his head with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

Ross reddened, his jaw tightening in an ominous fashion. “I came to see a colt I’m purchasing or I’d have met you at my castle.”

Robert shrugged. “This is as good of a place as any. Did you bring the box?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t think you’d want to conduct business in a common taproom.”

Ross’s air of superiority disappeared when Robert looked about him in apparent surprise. “A taproom?” Robert pulled out his monocle and peered about the room, moving a few paces as he did so. “My dear Ross, you’ve been too long gone from town if you consider this a taproom.”