“Did I hurt you?” His voice was concerned.
“No.”
He searched my face as if trying to decide whether I was lying. He must have decided I wasn’t, for he turned away, raking a hand back through his hair. After a moment’s contemplation, he spoke carefully. “You realize it’s probable William Dalmay will never fully recover from this.”
My eyes dropped to his feet. I wanted to deny it, but the pain twisting in my chest told me that I already knew this, even if I didn’t want to admit it even to myself.
I felt Gage’s worried gaze on me. “He will never return to the man he was. Too much has happened. Too much has changed.”
“Are any of us the same people we were ten years ago?” I asked.
It was meant as a rhetorical question, a feeble defense against the truth of his words, but from the ringing silence, I knew Gage had taken the query seriously.
I lifted my eyes to find him watching me, his pale blue gaze torn with indecision. He inhaled swiftly and parted his lips to speak, but then, as if he’d thought better of it, he stopped. The words died on his tongue and his mouth drifted shut in resignation.
I could almost feel the gravity in the air between us of whatever confession he had been about to make. Another secret unspoken. Another thought left unsaid.
Frustrated by his continued refusal to share, his determination to keep me off balance, I tried asking him myself. “What happened in Greece?”
His gaze turned stony. “I’m not going to talk about Greece.”
“Why? Did something happen there?”
“No.”
Irritated, I racked my brain trying to remember what might have been going on during that time period. “Were you caught up in the Greeks’ war for independence?” I asked, trying to recall when that conflict had actually begun. I knew very little about the Greek revolution, and those things I did know, I had read in the newspapers. I must admit I had not been very interested in following the events of a war so far from home, but now I wished I had paid more attention.
I knew I had hit on something of the truth when the muscle in his clamped jaw jumped. “I did not come here to discuss the Greeks’ struggle for independence from the Ottoman Empire.” He stabbed a finger at the middle of my chest. “You are attempting to distract me.”
I turned away with an aggravated huff. Why did the man insist on being so secretive? It seemed ludicrous that I could be so drawn to him when I really knew almost nothing about him except the few facts I had been able to glean from others. Certainly I felt I knew his character after all we had been through at Gairloch. I could even understand his desire for privacy—I myself prized it highly—but his stubborn refusal to share anything about his past upset me. I had shared so much of myself with him already—parts of my life that I discussed with no one—that it smacked of betrayal when he did not reciprocate.
Upon his departure from Gairloch, I had accepted his decision to remain quiet about his reasons for ignoring my doubts about the initial findings of the investigation we had conducted. If he had believed, as I did, that we might never see each other again, I could understand his unwillingness to share private information with someone who would return to being a stranger. I hadn’t liked it, but I could understand it. However, now that we had been thrown together again, for who knew how long, I could not comprehend his continued silence.
“I understand that you care for Dalmay,” Gage said in a calmer voice. “And I can understand that you wish to help him, but just stop and consider the matter for a moment.” He leaned closer and I looked up, reluctantly meeting his troubled gaze. “He is damaged. Even Dalmay himself would admit that.”
I scowled.
“He is not always himself, as we witnessed this evening.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.
“Yes, he did not harm anyone tonight. But that doesn’t mean he is incapable of it,” he added carefully.
I lifted my eyebrows, letting him know I was tired of hearing this same refrain.
He quickly came to the point. “How do you think Dalmay would feel if he emerged from one of his stupors to discover he had hurt you?”
My stomach clenched. Damn him, he was right. If Will were to accidentally injure me while in the grips of one of his melancholies, he would never forgive himself. I had admitted as much to myself earlier this evening when I thought Michael was angry with me for approaching his brother.
Frustrated that he had backed me into a corner I could not reason myself out of without disregarding Will’s best interests, I glared daggers at Gage. “I can’t just walk away and ignore that he needs my help,” I challenged him. “What kind of person would I be to abandon a friend in such a manner?” I heard distress creep into my voice and shook my head in aggravation. “I can’t do it, Gage. I owe him too much.”
His brow furrowed in consternation. “Because he was your drawing master for a few months?”
I closed my eyes, trying to find the words to make him understand. “Because he believed in me when no one else did. Because he was my friend when everyone else had abandoned me.” I sighed. “Because without Will’s encouragement I would likely have given up my portraits, and then where would I be?”
I opened my eyes to find Gage watching me with a strange glimmer in his eyes. I knew he understood how much my artwork meant to me, how lost I felt without it. How desperate I had been when Sir Anthony had threatened to take it away from me if I dared defy him in his quest to complete his anatomy textbook—the textbook for which he needed my sketches. I had only ever admitted to Philip and my brother Trevor how far Sir Anthony was willing to go to carry through on his threats, but I suspected Gage had inferred more than I had let on. Even if he hadn’t guessed that my late husband had threatened to break my fingers, I knew he presumed something similar.
I could tell from the concern in his eyes that his thoughts had traveled along the same path as mine, and I dropped my gaze. Even eighteen months after Sir Anthony’s death, the hurt was still too raw.
Gage surprised me by cupping my jaw with his warm hand and gently forcing my gaze back to his. The callus on his thumb rasped against my skin as he brushed it back and forth across my cheek.
For one breathless moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. His face was so close that I could smell the smoky scent of whiskey on his breath, telling me he must have indulged in a tot or two before venturing forth to confront me. His gaze dropped to my lips, making them tingle, but he never brought his mouth closer to mine.
“I can understand why you want to help William Dalmay,” he said. His voice sounded huskier than before. “But you need to consider what would really be best for him.”
I backed away from his touch, and his hand fell away. Turning my back to him, I took several steps toward the fireplace, needing to put some distance between us. I was shaken by how disappointed I felt that he hadn’t kissed me, and thrown off guard by his persistent efforts to keep me away from Will.
Struggling to maintain my composure, I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Why are you so concerned about this?” I finally managed to ask him. When he didn’t approach or offer an explanation, I turned to look at him. He stood with his hands at his sides, watching me with a faint look of consternation on his face. “If it’s because you feel some sort of responsibility for my safety because of what happened two months ago, I assure you, there’s no need. You saved my life. Had you not jumped into the loch after me . . .” I smiled sadly. “Well, let’s just say we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Any obligation you felt toward me in not taking my concerns seriously has been fulfilled.”
His voice was soft. “Kiera, I will never stop feeling responsible for your safety.”
I wrinkled my brow in puzzlement.
“But I’m not warning you because of what happened two months ago,” he added briskly, closing the distan
ce between us again.
“Then why?”
“Because someone needs to. Cromarty and Michael Dalmay clearly aren’t thinking.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that rather high-handed of you?”
A smile quirked his lips. “Perhaps. But you have a stubborn streak. Someone needs to rein you in.”
“I resent that,” I gasped, planting my hands on my hips. “You were prepared to name me as your chief suspect for the murder at Gairloch if I did not help you find the real culprit. And I only insisted on continuing the investigation after you were done because I knew you . . .” I pointed a finger at him “. . . had apprehended the wrong suspect.”
“Yes, well, nothing I have seen of you since your arrival here at Dalmay House has convinced me you are not as willful as you were at Gairloch.”
I frowned. “Then I’m sorry to disappoint you further. Because you’re not about to see anything from me now that will change your mind.”
He scowled. “Kiera . . .”
I lifted my hand to halt the flow of his words. “No, Gage. I have heard your objections, and I appreciate your concern, but nothing you say is going to keep me from visiting with William Dalmay. I will, of course, take appropriate precautions, for my own sake as well as Will’s, but I’m not going to avoid him like he’s got some deadly disease.”
Gage clenched his hands into fists. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. William Dalmay spent nine years in that asylum. Who knows what he’s endured or how it’s changed him? I don’t know that you can comprehend what vile things he may have been forced to do in order to survive.” His voice lowered. “A man does not last long in such a place without having to do things that would make grown men tremble.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist and turned to stare at the fire crackling in the hearth, unwilling to let myself contemplate what he meant. What could Gage really know of the matter? He was just trying to scare me. He was accustomed to persuading people around to his way of thinking, and if his weapons of choice, wit and charm, wouldn’t work, apparently he wasn’t above using fear and intimidation.
He acted as if he knew what he was talking about, but how could he? Even if Michael had related more of the details of Will’s confinement to him than the rest of us, surely Gage couldn’t know enough to speculate on what Will did or didn’t do while locked away.
Unless there was more to the matter than he was letting on.
“Why are you here?” I demanded, glancing up at him out of the corner of my eye. “At Dalmay House.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I interrupted him. “And let’s try the truth this time.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “I never lied. Michael Dalmay invited me to visit, and I accepted. End of story.”
“I see,” I murmured, feigning interest in the lamp painted with delicate flowers positioned on one of the side tables. “When did Michael extend this courtesy?”
“About a fortnight ago, when I was wrapping up my investigation in Edinburgh. As I told you earlier.”
“What fortuitous timing. You might have left Edinburgh without him ever knowing you were there.”
Gage’s hesitation was slight, but telling. “I wrote to him, of course, when I arrived in Edinburgh, on the off chance that he might venture into town.”
I locked eyes with him, trying to understand why he was lying to me. Or, if not lying, why he wasn’t telling me the complete truth. I faced him head-on. “Did he confide in you about his brother?”
“Upon my arrival? Yes. Michael is very worried about him.”
“Did he ask for your help?”
Gage tilted his head quizzically. “Why would he ask for my help?”
I studied his face, wishing I knew the right questions to ask. Something was definitely suspicious about Gage’s presence here. His explanation was certainly feasible, and under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t have questioned it. But Gage had shown an inordinate amount of interest in the comments made about William Dalmay since the moment I’d first mentioned him during our encounter on the stairs. I suppose, given the situation, that would seem understandable, but I knew better. Gage did not get that gleam in his eyes unless he was contemplating something serious.
I just wished I knew what it was. If Michael hadn’t asked him to look into the matter, then why was he giving such sharp attention to it?
“Kiera, I wish you would listen to me,” he began again, taking advantage of my silence to hark back to his familiar refrain.
I shook my head fiercely and crossed the room toward the door.
“You’re being foolishly obstinate. What about this missing girl?” he asked, crossing the room in just a few angry strides.
“What about her?” I snapped, surprised by the question.
“Aren’t you the least concerned that Will is involved somehow?”
“No.”
“No? How can you be so certain?”
“Because I know Will. He would never have harmed that woman,” I replied, sick unto death of repeating myself. “Besides, Michael told us it would have been impossible for him to be involved. Why would he lie?”
“Why, indeed?” Gage muttered under his breath.
I felt a moment’s alarm at his exasperated words. Had he noticed Michael’s odd behavior in his brother’s parlor as well? I had wondered for a moment if Michael had been lying to us, but then dismissed his strained expression as concern for his brother. But if Gage had questioned it, too . . .
I shook my head, irritated with myself for allowing him to plant seeds of doubt in my head. “I believe it’s time for you to go,” I declared, placing my hand on the doorknob.
His angry gaze returned to mine. “Don’t think this is over. I will speak to Cromarty and Dalmay about what we’ve discussed.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hissed, worried about being overheard by someone in the corridor. “Philip has enough to worry about with Alana’s health. I don’t need you adding to his concerns.”
“It would be you, with your foolish disregard for your own safety, who is adding to his concerns, not me.”
I glared up at him, infuriated with his interference. So be it. I would just have to make sure I spoke with Philip first and warned him of Gage’s buffle-headed nonsense.
I wrenched open the door and nodded with my head, telling him to leave. Now.
He dipped his own head sharply once and strode out the door.
I would have liked to slam it, but, mindful of my sister and her husband sleeping in the chamber across the hall, I eased it shut and turned the key in the lock with a pointed click.
CHAPTER TEN
I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and trying fruitlessly to pull my mind away from thoughts of Will and Gage. But the harder I tried, the more stubborn their faces became fixed in my mind and the more incessant their voices became.
So, frustrated and weary, I welcomed the first light of dawn as it seeped across the sky in shades of yellow and then pink. It seemed doubtful by that point that sleep would ever find me, so I bathed my face in the chill water left on my washstand and dressed in a simple morning gown and pelisse. Then, eager to escape the house, I slipped out of my room, in hopes the brisk morning air would clear my head.
Philip stepped out of the room across the hall just as I was closing the door to mine. Taking in my warm Venetian blue walking ensemble, he smiled. “It seems we’ve had the same idea.” He spoke in a soft voice, presumably so as not to wake Alana.
I smiled sympathetically in return. Judging from the dark smudges under Philip’s eyes, I wasn’t the only one who’d passed a restless night.
“Would you care if I joined you?” he asked, running his fingers around the brim of the hat in his hands.
“I’d like that,” I replied, realizing it would give me the perfect opportunity to speak with him in private befor
e Gage could. “But . . .” I glanced down the hall “. . . weren’t you going to speak with Lady Hollingsworth this morning before she leaves?”
“No worries.” His eyes twinkled. “Aunt Jane was never one to rise before midmorning, even when facing the most harrowing of crises.” He came forward to take my arm and lead me down the hall. “Caroline told Alana that when her eldest brother’s wife went into labor in the middle of the night, her mother called it the height of rudeness.”
I stifled a gasp of horrified laughter.
“Luckily for Aunt Jane’s new grandson, he didn’t decide to make his actual entry into the world until almost noon the next day; otherwise I’m certain he would never hear the end of it. In any case, in the event that she should take it upon herself to rise earlier than expected, I still estimate that will be a good two to three hours from now. And I’ve left a note requesting an interview and more or less ordering her to stay put until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
I smiled, imagining how Lady Hollingsworth would take such a dictate from her nephew, even though I was certain Philip had couched it in the gentlest of terms.
We exited through a door on the north side of the manor and turned east toward the firth. Philip guided us down a well-worn path that led away from the house and underneath the towering trees of the wood. The air was crisp and ripe with the damp of early morning dew and the musk of decaying leaves. I inhaled deeply, welcoming the cold air into my lungs.
The path widened as we exited the canopy of trees and approached the water. A solid block of craggy stone rose before us to pierce the crystalline blue sky.
“Banbogle Castle,” Philip explained when I turned to him curiously. “The Dalmays’ old stronghold.”
“Now I understand why Michael and William’s father felt the need to build Dalmay House,” I admitted, staring up at the decaying tower. Banbogle Castle must have been falling down around their heads.
Mortal Arts (A Lady Darby Mystery) Page 11