Chapter 35
Victoria wished her words to Rob McDuff hadn’t been so prophetic.
She was dry enough under the same wrought iron shelter where they’d met when the sun was high and hot.
Weeks ago, when she’d still believed she could limit the interference in her plans.
This morning, only one of her father’s oilcloth umbrellas had protected her from heavy, awful, autumn rain pouring from a dark grey sky.
She’d never expected in all her imaginings to be so caught up with a rebellious French scholar, a young and idealistic priest, and a Glaswegian police inspector of all things. The inspector who’d recognized her activities least of all, and now she hoped he would turn out to be central to her revised course of action.
The damp wooden benches seemed to drink in the moisture in the air, and pu
