The highland heist, p.1
The Highland Heist, page 1
A FREDDIE & GRACE MYSTERY
BOOK 1 - THE MISTLETOE COUNTESS
BOOK 2 - THE CAIRO CURSE
BOOK 3 - THE JULET CODE
The Highland Heist ©2025 by Pepper Basham
Print ISBN 979-8-89151-141-5
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 979-8-89151-142-2
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher. Reproduced text may not be used on the World Wide Web. No Barbour Publishing content may be used as artificial intelligence training data for machine learning, or in any similar software development.
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810 Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in the United States of America.
Dedicated to Jaime Jo Wright
It’s amazing how brainstorming with you can end up bringing imaginary people back from the dead. Or … un-aliving them. Not sure what sort of influence that makes you, but I do know I’m so grateful for you!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 1
JUNE 23, 1914
Perfect husbands were rare, except perhaps in fiction, but Grace Percy, Countess of Astley, had married the real-life equivalent, she was certain.
“I still cannot believe this surprise, Frederick!” Grace’s shock had continued all the way from the harbor, where her dear husband had announced that they’d arrived in America instead of England. “I thought the terrain looked different than England, but I never suspected we’d go anywhere else except your beloved Havensbrooke.”
“Our beloved Havensbrooke, I hope?” he corrected, turning from his place in the front seat of the hired touring, next to a rather somber driver.
Her smile immediately responded. At nearly seven months married, Grace still found her thoughts paused on occasion at the idea of his English estate being her home. But how could she help it? They’d only lived in the estate a few months before they’d taken off on their honeymoon tour. But oh, what a delightful introduction to her new home, complete with a murder mystery and a ghost hunt.
She sighed. Married life certainly kept proving to be wonderfully exciting.
She sent him another grin before tipping her head out the window just enough to take in the familiar lane leading to her father’s house. “How did you even know where to go? Harrington is such a small place outside of Richmond, and I know I’ve never given you exact directions.”
His low chuckle warmed the already heated June air, skittering a familiar welcome of tickles up her bare neck. “I’ve written my own letters to your father, darling.” His voice, so smooth and English, carried such delicious tenderness that Grace turned to find him shooting a wink to their adopted daughter, Zahra.
Zahra’s lips tipped. She rarely showed great affection, but who could blame her? After losing her family and living on the streets of Cairo, the little girl still had plenty of healing to do. So every smile came extra special.
Poor Miss Cox, the young English maid Frederick had hired in Italy to accompany them through the remainder of their trip, blushed at Frederick’s wink and smile. After all the overt affection Grace lathered on her darling husband, it was a wonder Miss Cox hadn’t gotten used to it yet, but perhaps the trouble lay more in how very handsome her husband was.
Grace thought about that idea for a moment. She supposed if she wasn’t married to this wonderful man, she’d find herself a little awestruck too.
Truth be told, he was so handsome, he might fit the description of a dime-novel villain, but she was very glad fiction didn’t get it right on that score either.
“Besides, it may be a while before we can travel again.” He continued, turning back to face the front of the car. “I know it’s a few months earlier than we’d originally planned, but it seemed a waste not to take advantage of being at sea. And I know you’d love to see your family.”
Grace would have kissed his cheek if she hadn’t been sitting in the back seat of the touring with Zahra between her and Miss Cox. “You are the most wonderful man.” She turned to Zahra and Miss Cox. “Don’t you think so?”
Miss Cox’s eyes widened, and she quickly looked away, but Zahra’s grin stretched enough to show off her teeth. The simple white dress she wore brought out the depths of those endless gray-green eyes. Grace still couldn’t stop smiling at the very idea that the little girl belonged to her and Frederick now.
“He has all his hair and teeth.” Zahra nodded, the tiniest twinkle in her eyes alerted Grace that the little girl might be finding her humor. “That is a help.”
Frederick’s laugh burst out. “Indeed it is, Zahra. And I’m glad to still possess both of them.”
Grace studied his thick dark hair for a second longer, her fingers twitching to push through his locks, but the very idea could send poor Miss Cox through the car window. Grace drew in a deep breath to keep her show of admiration to a more appropriate public display and leaned toward Zahra. “The gardens at Rutledge House are lovely, Zahra. They were my mother’s gardens, and I’d often spend time with her there. Hopefully, when we return to our dear Havensbrooke”—she emphasized, sending her dear husband a look to ensure her noted her correction—”you and I and, perhaps even Lily, can work to restore those gardens together. Then we can make our own special place too. Gardens are very creative places in stories as well as in real life.”
And perhaps she and Frederick could add a few more children to fill the manor house with the laughter those crumbling walls desperately needed. Grace paused a frown at the thought and her palm went to her stomach. Surely they would have an heir—something Frederick hadn’t voiced a desire for often but that she knew he wanted, especially for the future of Havensbrooke.
Grace turned her attention back to the window, her focus catching on a change in the familiar landscape of her childhood home as they progressed down the drive. “Father’s removed some of the trees in the front.” How odd. He hadn’t written about any improvements. “Those were lovely trees. Why would he do that?” She leaned forward as the house grew closer, a sudden tightening in her chest she couldn’t quite explain. “And it looks as if he’s building an addition onto the parlor.” Grace turned back to Frederick. “Why didn’t he tell me about those in his most recent letters? He always loved sharing news about his improvements with me.”
The tiniest of flickers played across Frederick’s features. Had that been concern? But … but why would he feel concern? Unless his tendency toward clairvoyance—which usually only pertained to her—had spanned the ocean.
“Perhaps he wanted it to be a surprise,” he offered, his lighter tone too controlled.
She studied him a moment longer. Frederick had asked about Father over the last few days, but gave nothing to hint at a worry. Could this visit be for more than just her fancy, but because of a real concern? He stared back at her, the intensity in those dark eyes almost attempting to communicate something with her. Clearly her clairvoyance was at a disadvantage to his.
Except on some occasions.
But those were obvious and usually involved kissing.
“How many sisters and brothers did you have, Sayyida?”
Grace pulled her attention from Frederick’s face and looked down at Zahra as the car slowed to a stop.
She pushed up a smile. “I only have a sister.”
The pucker on Zahra’s brow deepened. “It is a very big house for such a small family.”
Frederick bent ever so slightly, his movement gaining Zahra’s attention. “Wait until you’ve seen your new home at Havensbrooke, Zahra.” He nodded toward the home in front of them. “It’s been in my family for centuries and is at least three times the size of Rutledge House.”
The little girl’s eyes widened. “Then I shall lose myself.”
“No fear, lamb.” Grace’s husband cooed out the words, giving her an even sweeter glimpse of the father she knew him to be. “Someone will always find you.”
Oh, how she loved him.
The worry coiling in her chest unwound in a wonderful warmth. He did that for her—found her—even if it only meant finding her gaze in a crowd. It was one of her favorite experiences, except when he wore that concerned “what are you doing” expression or the “did you truly say that out loud, darling” expression and maybe the “please don’t do what I think you are going to do” expression.
Whatever the con cern with her father—if there even was one—she and Frederick would sort it out together. She was certain of it. They’d been sorting through life-threatening situations since their first week of marriage, and the fact they were both still alive gave testament to their compatibilities, God’s grace, and excellent timing.
Not to mention a few other people helping them along the way, excellent novel-reading preparation, and the constant availability of ropes.
Frederick sent her a reassuring smile as he opened the car door, likely trying to quiet her worries. Oh, he was simply the very best man she’d ever known. Who but God could have imagined that an unexpected wedding between a second-choice American bride and a reformed roguish British earl could have turned out to be not only a friendship but a love match, as well? And he was positively excellent at distracting her from her concerns.
After giving instructions for Zahra and Miss Cox to wait for them in the car with the driver, Frederick escorted Grace to the door of the three-story, brick mansion.
The familiar gong echoed inside as Frederick rang the bell.
Grace pulled at the edges of her gloves, giving her head a shake at her silliness. There was no need for concern, of course. This was her childhood home. She knew this place. Every nook, every corridor, and even the unexpected hiding spots.
Her smile brimmed. Besides, she’d see her father.
But why did her stomach feel as if the contents wanted to take flight? Her lips tightened. Was this, perhaps, how Lizzie Bennet felt the first time she saw Pemberley?
After a few moments, the door opened to reveal the familiar face of Perkins, her father’s longstanding butler. Father had brought him on before Grace could remember.
The man’s eyes widened when his attention moved from Frederick to Grace, and his mouth even dropped open. She would have been concerned, but she’d seen that same look on Perkins’ face quite often when she’d lived in this house. Poor man. He was always finding her in the most unexpected quandaries.
“Miss Grace?” He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, dipping his head with a shake. “Lady Astley, my lady.”
The combination of his voice and his immediate confusion with titles had her breaking all protocols of a countess and running directly into the older man’s arms. He stayed as straight as a tree, but that didn’t stop Grace. His scent of polish and soap had meant home for such a large portion of her life.
Her smile brimmed, and she stepped back, Perkins looking every bit as discombobulated as he always did when she’d hugged him. “It is so wonderful to see you, Perkins. And you look the same as always.”
“I should hope so, my lady. It hasn’t been a year since we last saw one another.”
“No, it has not, though it feels much longer.” Grace gestured back to Frederick. “I don’t believe you’ve met my husband, Lord Astley.”
The butler dipped his body in an awkward bow, his gaze taking in Frederick, before he dipped his head again. “Your lordship.”
“I apologize for not having given you notice of our arrival, Perkins.” Frederick smiled. “But I had hoped to surprise my bride with a visit home before we return to England.”
“Isn’t it the sweetest thing?” Grace sighed back to her darling husband and then tried to peer around Perkins to get a view of the interior of the house. The entry hall really was one of its best features. “The house looks marvelous too.” She surveyed the new shrubbery lining the front, pausing on a patch of missing foliage. Had someone removed Mother’s rose bushes? Why on earth would Father ever approve of such a thing? “There’s new landscaping?”
Her stomach dropped with renewed fervor.
“Within the last three weeks, my lady.” Perkins ran a finger beneath his collar and swallowed audibly. “Several new improvements, as you can imagine.”
Father had mentioned improvements just before Grace wed Frederick in late November, which was why he’d encouraged Grace and her sister to prepare for the wedding at their friends’ home, Whitlock Manor, but Grace had always supposed the improvements involved internal changes. Updates.
Nothing drastic.
Nothing like removing Mother’s roses.
“I was sure the improvements would have been finished by now.” Grace looked from Perkins to Frederick, whose expression dissolved from welcome into … what was it? Concern? Surely there wasn’t much to be concerned about regarding house renovations, was there?
Unless one distracted a serious workman with too many questions and he nearly electrocuted himself.
A twinge of guilt pinched in her chest.
Perkin’s brow rose again. “Not—not when the new owners wish for different sorts of improvements, my lady.”
And now she doubted her hearing. New owners?
“They have more modern views than your father and took to implementing those designs as soon as the purchase was finalized.”
It was Grace’s turn to blink. Surely, there must be some mistake. “What do you mean? New owners?”
He shifted his attention from Grace to Frederick and back, and with a deep sigh, he lowered his head. “You—you haven’t heard?”
A splash of cold branched through Grace’s middle and she turned to Frederick to see if he understood. He looked serious. Grace couldn’t seem to find her voice, and even if she could, she wasn’t certain what to say. None of this made sense.
“Are you saying Rutledge House is under new ownership?” Her husband voiced the slow growing awareness in her mind.
“Yes, sir.” Perkins turned his attention to Grace. “I—I thought Mr. Ferguson would have written to you to alert you of the situation.”
“The situation?” Her knees weakened the slightest bit, which was the oddest thing, because her knees rarely weakened to anything except Frederick’s kisses.
And occasionally while reading an excellently terrifying book.
Her stomach clenched. But this moment fit neither one of those descriptions. So what on earth was wrong with her?
“We’ve been traveling on our honeymoon trip,” Frederick explained, stepping nearer. “So any letter may have missed us.”
“But we didn’t receive a telegram either.” Grace studied Perkins, trying to sort out the reason why her eyes had started to burn a little.
“That explains why a solicitor arrived yesterday in search of you.”
A solicitor? Good heavens, what on earth is going on?
“I would invite you inside to explain.” Perkins glanced behind him. “But the new family … well, I stayed on …” He cleared his throat. “They are not accepting visitors at this time since they are newly arrived.”
Grace’s mind stuttered over her thoughts in the most alarming way. Her last letter from Father gave no indication of selling Rutledge House or of any desire to leave.
“What has happened?” Grace stilled herself against the sudden rise in emotions and held Perkins gaze. “Tell me, Perkins.”
“My lady, I–I’m not certain—”
“You must tell me.” A sudden heat rose into her face. “Clearly, you know.”
Frederick placed his palm on Grace’s back, stepping closer to her side, dousing her sudden anxiety in a sweet blanket of his presence. “I understand you may not wish to break confidences, Perkins, but we are in need of direction, and you have the information to assist us.”
“Yes, my lord.” Perkins nodded, his shoulders drooping from their stiffened state. She’d seen that look plenty of times too. Usually, when he’d been tasked with finding Grace from some hidden location.
But this reason felt much larger than any of those silly times.
“It is my understanding that Mr. Ferguson has declared bankruptcy and all of his debts have been called in.”
The words made sense, but Grace couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the meaning. Father hadn’t been the most clever with finances, but bankruptcy?
“Six weeks ago, everything seemed to come to a head, so Mr. Ferguson made a quick sale of the house, as well as any of his other properties, to cover those debts.”
“But it wasn’t a surprise, was it, Perkins?”
Grace shifted her attention to Frederick. What could he mean? Not a surprise? It completely shocked her.
“No, my lord.” The butler lowered his gaze again. “It was my understanding that Mr. Ferguson had been struggling with finances for some time, and his last few investments had not been … successful.”
