A Brush with Shadows

by Anna Lee Huber

  “Only because he had to be, dear,” Lady Langstone interjected between spoonfuls of soup.

  Rory’s cadence faltered hearing this casually delivered insult, but otherwise he ignored it. “And I suppose he was just as resolute outside of it. Always doggedly determined to be the best at everything.” He gave a bark of sudden laughter. “Alfred used to say . . .”

  But he broke off upon seeing Gage’s face, which had turned stony. A slight flush crested Rory’s cheeks and his brow furrowed as he seemed to reconsider his words. “He used to say, well . . .” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t really matter what Alfred said. Never did like to come in second, and the way he’d snarl at you made you wish you’d let him win. It ruined the fun more often than not.” His eyes dipped to his bowl, seeing something the rest of us couldn’t, so he missed the black look his mother cast his way, perhaps for being disloyal to his brother.

  I glanced at Gage, wondering what he thought of his cousin’s admission and found that the forbidding expression had faded from his eyes to be replaced with quiet consideration.

  “I seem to remember you boys fighting a great deal,” Lady Langstone said as her soup was whisked away and replaced by filleted sole simmered in butter and lemon juice. Though she spoke as if she cared very little about the matter, her lips pursed.

  Gage and Rory exchanged a look rife with unspoken things. Things neither of them seemed eager to reminisce over.

  “I suspect most boys do,” Rory remarked before taking a long drink of his wine.

  “Too true,” I said, hoping to relieve some of the tension. “My brother and cousins were constantly pounding each other for some perceived slight one moment and then happily engaged in some bit of sport the next. Our nanny always said that so long as they didn’t actually maim each other, it was best to let them have it out, and it would all be over quicker.”

  I looked up to find my husband watching me with a small smile. I’d never been one to chatter, so I guessed my efforts to distract had been obvious. At least to him.

  Regrettably, the effort was all but wasted, for Lady Langstone seemed determined to pursue the topic and her grudge.

  “Well, for members of civilized families I suppose it’s not cause for alarm,” she sniffed. “But I’m afraid the matter is quite different when some of the parties involved have the blood of ruffians and smugglers running through their veins.”

  It was evident she was talking about Gage, for his father’s maternal relatives were rather notorious for their activities along the Cornish coast. This was also a point she’d evidently made numerous times before, for Gage stifled a sigh before rather aggressively attacking a bite of fish.

  His head lifted in surprise when Rory spoke up in his defense. “Well, I don’t know about blood, other than the fact that we were all guilty of spilling a bit of it.” He tipped his cup toward Gage. “But I’m certain you gave your mother much less grief than we gave ours.”

  I imagined that was true. Gage had a fiercely protective streak. One I’d long suspected had developed from watching his mother’s battle with illness while his father was so far away for much of the year. Now that I realized she’d also been contending with the slights of some of her own family, Gage’s behavior made all the more sense. He would not have wanted her to suffer on account of his poor behavior, too.

  His aunt pushed away her plate with a small shove, as if she’d suddenly lost her appetite. “Except the incident with the Brays’ ceremonial dagger.”

  Her sharp gaze flicked to me and then to Gage, who returned it with a pointed glare of his own. I didn’t know what she was referring to. My husband had never shared anything about a dagger with me, and I wasn’t about to ask him to elaborate now. But the incident she had referred to clearly troubled Rory. He shifted anxiously as he observed their silent standoff, before signaling to the footman to refill his glass.

  Though I’d never been one to overindulge, I found myself following suit. I drained my first glass of wine and requested more. If I was to make it through this dinner with all its barbed commentary, I wasn’t sure I wanted my wits completely intact. In any case, my head already ached. Whether it was because Bree had put a little too much force into braiding my hair into a coronet or a result of the long days of travel, it seemed unlikely that drink could make it worse.

  I pressed a hand to my temple and broached the subject that was most pressing to us all, and yet the one no one seemed to wish to address. In doing so, I knew I might be overstepping myself, for I’d planned to let Gage take the lead of this investigation, whatever form it took. But witnessing the antagonistic behavior of his aunt, I thought it might be better if I were the one to force the issue.

  “You must be beside yourself with worry, Lady Langstone.” I arched my eyebrows, struggling to mask my sarcasm. “Concerned for your son’s whereabouts and whether he’s injured himself or fallen into trouble.”

  Her posture turned rigid, her eyes bright like two pieces of hard jet, but she did not speak.

  “Lord Tavistock seems all but certain Alfred is not absent of his own volition. Not for so many days. But Rory, you indicated you assumed otherwise,” I prompted.

  “Initially, yes.” He frowned. “But now I’m less certain.”

  “Why did you believe he was off on some lark?” I questioned, harking back to the comment he’d made in the entry hall after learning why Gage and I were here.

  “Because it’s not uncommon for him to do so. For a day or two or three,” he qualified, tapping his fingers against the base of his glass. His eyes narrowed in deliberation. “In London, he often disappears for a few days, returning home whenever he’s had his fill of whatever vice he’s been pursuing.”

  His mother made a sound of protest, but he cut her off wearily.

  “There’s no point in hiding it, Mother. I know you’re as aware of the truth as I am. And it will come as no surprise to Gage.” His eyes lifted to meet mine. “I suspect his wife wouldn’t care for us to dance delicately around the situation either. She seems to be eminently logical and levelheaded.”

  I nodded my thanks, grateful he hadn’t touted the unsavory events in my past as evidence I was unlikely to be shocked by the fact that some gentlemen drank to excess, gambled, or visited the demimonde. What was there to be taken aback by about a man bedding someone other than his wife when I had seen the internal anatomy of a human being laid open on a table for me to sketch?

  “But this isn’t London,” I murmured, finishing his thought for him.

  “No, it isn’t. And so there are fewer . . . opportunities for him to indulge himself. He might hie off to his chum Glanville’s home at Kilworthy Park, or visit one of his other friends in the vicinity. Barring that, I know he’s visited the local pubs a time or two, looking for willing company among the barmaids. But he’s never away for more than a night or two at that.”

  “Mr. Glanville called a few days ago,” Lady Langstone chimed in to say. A frown still pleated her brow. “He’s been very helpful with the search. He wanted us to know he’d spoken to all of their friends and no one has seen or heard from Alfred.”

  Given her earlier behavior, I couldn’t help but be skeptical of her willingness to supply such information. Was Mr. Glanville in collusion with her and she wished us to leave him alone? Or was she concerned with our discovering the full extent of Alfred’s proclivities? Regardless, I felt a visit to Kilworthy Park was in order. One glance at Gage’s curious expression told me he harbored a similar intention.

  “What of Plymouth?” he asked, spearing a parsnip. “Did Alfred ever venture there?”

  “I couldn’t tell you.” Rory’s mouth twisted. “My brother wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his pursuits. Glanville, or perhaps the coachman, would be able to tell you better than I can.”

  I glanced at Lady Langstone, wondering how she would react to her son’s suggestion that we question
Alfred’s friend, but she feigned absorption in her food.

  Gage’s eyes strayed toward the heavy rose damask drapes that had been pulled across the windows, shielding our view of the darkness falling over the garden and the sharp pings of cold rain that continued to be flung by the wind against the glass. It was not a night to be out, especially on the exposed expanses of the high moors.

  “What do you think happened to him?” His gaze swiveled to spear first his aunt and then his cousin, giving them no quarter. “Where do you think Alfred is?”

  Lady Langstone paled and for the first time I could see that she was not as sangfroid about the matter as she appeared. I studied her, wondering if perhaps I had judged her a bit too harshly. After all, her son was missing, and if she wasn’t somehow involved, she must be racked with worry indeed, no matter how she strove to hide it.

  However, she was not the first to speak. Instead, her younger son straightened in his chair, narrowing his eyes at the centerpiece of white roses. “It simply doesn’t seem possible he fell into a bog or wandered out to a part of the moors we have yet to search.” His gaze lifted to his mother before meeting Gage’s. “But he was ill during the days before he disappeared. Not like Grandfather’s ailment. Laid low by some stomach complaint worse than normal crapulence.” He paused, his mouth pressing tight. “I wonder . . .” He hesitated, beginning again. “I worry he was not really well enough to be out of bed. What if he fell sicker or became delusional?”

  Lady Langstone’s fingers tightened around the fork she grasped in her hand, turning her knuckles white. She didn’t even seem conscious that she was doing so, until she caught me watching her. Then she inhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax, and carefully set her utensil aside, resting her hands in her lap before speaking. “It’s possible. Though, I do not like to think that is what happened.”

  Gage’s manner softened in answer to her distress. “What do you hope happened?”

  She swallowed, her words emerging haltingly. “That he took himself off to Plymouth or a friend’s home farther afield than Kilworthy Park and couldn’t be bothered to inform any of us.”

  “Without a horse or carriage?”

  “Yes, well, the walk to Peter Tavy or even Merrivale isn’t so very far. And there are a number of smaller farms bordering the moor. Perhaps he borrowed a horse from one of them.”

  None of us pointed out how improbable her suggestion was. In any case, I suspected she already knew. If Alfred had borrowed a horse, surely the farmer or hostler would have spoken up when they discovered the viscount was searching for his grandson. That is, if he’d borrowed one. From what I’d learned of Gage’s cousin, he scarcely seemed the type to travel any distance on a borrowed nag when he could easily do so in greater comfort and style.

  Which led us back to one glaring point. If Alfred hadn’t gone into hiding of his own volition—with or without his mother’s help—then something unpleasant had probably befallen him.

  We finished our meal on that somber note and retired to our chambers. I was largely quiet as Bree helped me undress and ready myself for bed. My things had all been put away and the room tidied while I ate dinner. Knowing my maid must be as tired, if not more so, than I, I sent her off to find her own bed.

  My thoughts kept returning to the moors, to their silent but relentless presence beyond the garden wall. There was something preternatural about them, something ancient. I could not forget they were there. Their existence seemed to always be lurking somewhere in the background of my mind as a sort of hum of anticipation.

  I lifted aside the gold damask drapes to peer out into the rain-soaked darkness, knowing I would not be able to see anything, and yet not able to resist. Perhaps it was the very fact that I had not been able to truly glimpse them yet that made the moors seem so fascinating to me. The weather and then nightfall had maddeningly kept them cloaked. I only hoped tomorrow would be different, for my sake and for Alfred’s.

  When my husband entered the room a few moments later through the connecting door, he found me still peering out at what little I could see of the manor’s back terrace and gardens. I’d been expecting him, for we’d yet to spend a night apart in the three months of our marriage, despite it being unfashionable to share a bedchamber. Instead, Gage used his assigned room merely to dress with the assistance of his valet, affording me and Bree some privacy as she helped me with my ablutions. I hoped it would always be this way.

  I glanced up as the door clicked shut and allowed the heavy drapes to fall back into place.

  “Curious about the moors?” he guessed, knowing me all too well. He smiled tiredly, pausing at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry our arrival couldn’t have been under more auspicious circumstances.”

  I knew he was speaking about more than the weather. I waved the matter aside. “You look as if you could fall asleep on your feet,” I murmured, reaching up to caress his jaw. Tilting my head, I studied his pale blue eyes. “But your mind won’t let you.”

  His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. “Perceptive, as always.” His grin turned humorless. “Though I suppose it doesn’t require a great deal of acuity to deduce there is much weighing on my mind.”

  I rested my head against his chest, pressing my hand to the warm skin over his heart revealed by the part in the collar of his burgundy silk dressing gown. “Do you wish to discuss it or will that only make it more difficult to sleep?”

  A long exhale shuddered through him as he rested his chin on my head. “Oh, that I could ignore it.”

  I inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne and the natural musk of his skin, feeling my body soften further to mold against his as my blood thickened. “I could . . . attempt to distract you.” I gazed up at him through my lashes, fighting the blush cresting my cheeks.

  Although I’d been a widow when he and I wed, relations between myself and Gage had been a complete revelation. And while I had grown bolder and more comfortable with the physical side of our marriage, I was still by far the shyer of the two of us, and the least likely to initiate intimacy. Though I was more than happy to partake.

  Gage’s eyes darkened and his lips curled into a smile that could only be termed wolfish. “Could you?” he drawled, lowering his head to capture my lips.

  But before they could touch, he drew back, staring over my shoulder at something.

  I turned my head, trying to follow his gaze. “What is it?”

  A pleat formed between his eyes. “Just one moment.”

  He crossed the room toward the corner where a tall bureau stood. Then he leaned down to press his shoulder against it, slowly sliding the heavy oak desk across the floor to the right.

  I stared at him in bafflement. “What are you doing?”

  He paused to catch his breath and then with a grunt continued his labor, sliding the piece of furniture over about two more feet. “There,” he proclaimed, standing tall again as he rested his hands on his hips in satisfaction. “That should do it.”

  “Do what?”

  He nodded at the bureau, or rather the wall behind where it now stood. “Block the entrance to one of the secret passages.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “What?!” I gasped, striding across the room to stand next to him.

  Gage pointed toward the edge of the wood paneling that spanned the wall from floor to ceiling on either side of the fireplace. I hadn’t noticed it earlier—then, of course, I hadn’t been looking—but there was definitely a narrow groove running up the wall that was not evident on the other side. About a foot to the left hung a long woven tapestry of medieval knights and maidens, which I assumed was meant to mask any further evidence of the mechanism.

  “I apologize. I should have mentioned it sooner. In all honesty, it slipped my mind,” he explained.

  “How many secret passages are there?” I asked, still somewhat shocked by such a discovery.

&nb
sp; “Three. Four if you count the priest’s hole in the back parlor.”

  He spoke so nonchalantly, as if all of this was common. I’d heard of castles and manor houses that boasted secret passages, but I’d yet to knowingly stay in one. And rather than intrigue me, it somehow made this foreboding, unwelcoming place seem all the more cold and heartless. To think someone could have snuck in and out of our chamber without our knowledge made me feel angry and violated.

  My spine stiffened, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you think your aunt assigned us this chamber because of it?”

  “I can’t help but think that was part of her consideration.” He frowned in deliberation. “But surely she must have known I would be aware of them. My cousins are.”

  I turned to scour the chamber for signs that anyone else had been in the room other than Bree, but I had no idea what to look for. Upon being shown into the chamber before dinner, I hadn’t really given the space much consideration, having been distracted by other things. And if changes had been made even prior to that, we would never have known.

  “Perhaps she didn’t realize you were aware of them, or she anticipated you’d forgotten.” I scowled at the couch where earlier we’d reclined discussing matters. “Or she’d hoped you would trust them not to intrude.” I turned back to the wall behind the bureau, searching it for any signs of holes or other crevices.

  Gage draped an arm around my shoulders as if sensing my unease. “The walls are too thick for them to eavesdrop,” he assured me. “And the tapestry muffles what sound that does filter through.”

  I glanced up at him, curious how he was so certain of such a thing, but seeing the tightening at the corner of his eyes, I decided not to ask. Instead, I leaned closer, absorbing his warmth. A draft coming from somewhere on this side of the chamber—the secret door?—had crept over my toes and up under my night rail.

  Feeling me shiver, my husband urged me up into the bed and under the thick covers. He leaned back against the pillows plumped in front of the headboard, and I rested my head on his shoulder. He’d not removed his dressing gown, so I knew he had something to say before we indulged in any sort of distraction.