A Brush with Shadows

by Anna Lee Huber

  The clock ticked away on the mantel while he contemplated whatever it was he wished to discuss. My eyes began to droop—his heat and solid presence lulling me into slumber—when finally he spoke.

  “You can ask me.”

  I blinked open my eyes to look up at him.

  He dropped his gaze from the point he had been staring at on the opposite wall. “You don’t have to dance around asking the questions I can see forming in your eyes. I know I haven’t proven to be the most forthcoming individual, especially about my past, and I can’t promise I will always give you a straightforward answer, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.” He swallowed. “I . . . I want you to try. Otherwise, I’m not certain I will ever bring myself to speak of it.”

  I sat taller to look at him, surprised by this change in him. Given the fact that I’d practically had to drag information out of him at knifepoint in the past, it was a welcome one. I well understood secrecy, for I had never been one to share a great deal of myself. I also had my fair share of skeletons I would rather remain in the closet. But Gage had transformed reticence into an art form.

  “How do you know the walls are too thick?” I asked softly, sensing something fragile behind his eyes.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed again. “Because my father met with Aunt Vanessa here.”

  His revelation of the secret passage had been shock enough, but this pronouncement rendered me completely mute. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to need further coaxing in order to continue.

  “I followed him here once, through the passage. My father had come home to us for one of his leaves, and he’d been acting strangely ever since his arrival. Mother hadn’t seemed to notice, but then, she was particularly ill that spring.” One side of his mouth curled upward in chagrin. “I’d been trying to avoid him whenever I could because he tended to try to pack in an entire six months’ worth of paternal scolding and correction into his short visits.” His eyes narrowed in remembrance. “But unlike other visits, evasion hadn’t proved difficult or earned me extra reprimands.”

  “Because he was slipping away as well,” I surmised.

  He nodded. “I needed to know why. To understand what was more important than staying by my mother’s side or even lecturing me.”

  Though Gage strove to conceal it, I could hear the hurt, lonely boy he had once been struggling behind his words. These were events he had never come to terms with. Memories he had never fully confronted. And they affected his relationship with his father even to this day. It also further explained his abhorrence of his aunt.

  I reached down to touch his opposite hand where it rested in his lap, rubbing my thumb up and down over the back of it. “Were he and your aunt . . . were they . . . ?” I broke off, not knowing how to finish the question.

  “No. Not that time, at least.” He stared down at our hands. “I could hear their raised voices, but not what they were saying. And I had to dart into a cobwebbed alcove to avoid being seen by my father when he left through the passage.”

  “So you didn’t confront him about it?” I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

  “No. Not then. Not ever.” His brow lowered into a fierce scowl. “I’m not sure I trust my father to give me an honest answer. If he even deigned to give me an answer at all.”

  Having firsthand knowledge of Lord Gage’s high-handed, disdainful demeanor, I suspected he was right. “Did your mother know?”

  “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  I studied the intricately embroidered pattern on the counterpane as Gage lifted his fingers to thread them through mine. “What of your aunt?” I voiced in hesitation.

  He lifted his eyes to meet my gaze.

  “Have you ever asked her?”

  He arched a single eyebrow. “Asked her what? If my father proved unfaithful to my mother, the woman who degraded herself by marrying him?”

  “That’s no worse than your aunt degrading herself by becoming his lover after she mercilessly mocked and derided your mother for years.” I paused. “But I see your point. If whatever happened between them wasn’t an affaire de coeur, then by questioning her about it, you’ve all but admitted your father is the knave she’s accused him of being.”

  Having labeled the relationship what it could have been, another thought occurred to me. “Is it distasteful to sleep here? Would you rather we slept in the bed in your chamber?”

  “My room is even colder than this one because the fireplace is not drawing correctly.” He tightened the arm draped around me from behind, snuggling me closer to his side. “No. I shall be fine. Particularly with you here to help banish unpleasant imaginings.”

  I smiled coyly. “I’m so pleased I can be useful.”

  He reached up to coil a loose tendril of hair brushing my cheek around his finger. “You are ever so much more than useful,” he murmured with a roguish twinkle in his eye. But then his expression turned more serious. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Kiera. This would have been much more difficult on my own.” He gazed up at the bed hangings above us. “I’m not sure I would have even had the nerve to come.”

  I lifted a hand to his chin, forcing him to look at me. “Well, I am. Having seen you with your grandfather, there’s no doubt in my mind that you would have accepted his summons, no matter how much you dreaded it.”

  They must have been the words he’d needed to hear, for his brow smoothed and his shoulders relaxed. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized the prospect that he might have ignored his grandfather’s letter had been bothering him. Evidently the discovery that the viscount was ill had rattled him more than he wished to admit.

  He turned his body to press more fully against me and lowered his mouth to my neck. “Now, weren’t you saying something about distracting me?”

  I sighed and set about being as diverting as possible. Though, to be honest, I wasn’t sure whether I was the diversion or the diverted. Either way, I had no complaint.

  * * *

  • • •

  Despite the long journey and our tiring nocturnal efforts, I woke early the next morning. The pale light of dawn had just begun to filter through the curtains, casting a shadowy glow over the room almost like the gloaming in the Highlands. It was that hour when the light seemed almost tangible, a hazy wash of color over the darkness. I lay in bed staring up at the bed curtains, which we had never closed, still trying to shake off the bonds of slumber.

  However, far from relaxed, I felt unsettled. I didn’t have to struggle to recall why. It was because of the dream I’d had sometime during the night. The vision of someone standing at the foot of the bed. They hadn’t moved or spoken, merely hovered over us while we slept before vanishing into the gloom.

  It didn’t take much insight to guess where this worrying apparition had originated. I turned my head to look at the wall where the bureau Gage had moved still blocked the entrance to the secret passage. I breathed a little deeper at the evidence that the heavy piece of furniture had not been disturbed, but a shiver still worked through my frame at the memory of that figure watching us while we were unaware.

  Another shiver ran through me and I realized it wasn’t entirely my distressing nightmare that caused me to tremble. The room was also bitter cold. The fire in the grate had long since died, and no servant had yet entered to coax it back to life. Then a gust of air brushed over my skin, rustling the bed curtains and the drapes over one of the windows.

  I stiffened, shaking with renewed force from both the chill and the realization that a window was open. A window that had been shut the night before.

  I burrowed deeper under the covers, pressing close to my husband’s side. “Gage,” I whispered.

  He hummed sleepily and lifted his hand to cup my hip to pull me back against him, mistaking my intent.

  “Gage!”

  The second time the frantic tone o
f my voice must have penetrated through the fog of sleep, for he lifted his head off the pillow and cracked open one eye to look at me.

  “The window is open,” I hissed.

  He glanced in the direction I indicated with my nodding head, clearly not understanding why this alarmed me. Just as he opened his mouth to question me, I saw comprehension dawn. His eyes widened and he pushed upright, allowing the covers to slide off his bare shoulders down to his waist. He turned to look at the bureau and the secret entrance as I had before tentatively rising from the bed.

  Snatching up his dressing gown, he covered himself and cinched the belt at the waist before he approached the window. He cursed, lifting his foot as he stepped into a puddle of undoubtedly frigid water. The drapes fluttered inward and he grasped them, yanking them aside. As suspected, the casement window stood open to the chill air, both panes having swung outward, though one gaped wider than the other.

  Clutching the covers up over my chest, I sat up to watch as he leaned forward to peer out. I found it odd that the casements swung outward when normally they swung inward, but it was not the first time I’d encountered such an anomaly. In any case, they should have made it harder for an intruder to enter, but someone had opened those windows, and it hadn’t been me or Gage.

  My heart kicked in my chest at the prospect that my dream had been real. That someone had stood over us in our sleep.

  Gage lifted his head and then looked left and right along the side of the house, before grasping both casements to swing them shut. But prior to latching them, he paused to examine both frames. He lifted his finger to fiddle with something, then closed the windows and locked them tightly.

  “What did you discover?” I asked.

  He crossed to the other window to check its lock, all but ignoring my query.

  “Gage?”

  When he was satisfied, he hurried back to the bed and under the warm covers. I squeaked as his cold feet and hands brushed against me.

  “Well?” I prodded impatiently.

  “I should have checked the locks last night,” he replied with a frown. “You can be sure I’ll do so from now on.”

  “Yes, but what did you find outside the window?”

  His gaze met mine, debating how much to reveal. I arched an eyebrow in scolding, letting him know he’d best not attempt to fob me off.

  He grinned sheepishly. “The light was not strong enough to tell for sure, but there appeared to be footsteps in the mud below the window.”

  I stiffened. “But how did they climb up? And how did they open the casements?”

  “As for the climbing, I’m not certain. There’s nothing attached to the outside of the building to assist them. Possibly a rope secured to the roof.” He sighed and raked a hand back through his golden locks, sending them into even more disarray. “As for opening the windows, it appears they used an old rope trick. There’s a hook attached to the outside of the frame. One that shouldn’t be there. They must have tied a quick-release knot like the type used to secure a horse’s reins. Looped it around the hook and left both ends dangling. Then after they pulled the window open, all they had to do was tug the other end to release the rope.”

  “Removing any proof of how they did it. But who would do such a thing? Surely such an effort would require premeditation?”

  “Yes. The rope must have already been secured to the hook before we retired.”

  I clutched the covers tighter to my chest. Had they tried entering our chamber through the secret passage but found it blocked? Had they suspected Gage would do so and the rope was merely a backup plan? “I don’t understand. Why would they go to such lengths to enter our chamber in the middle of the night? What was the purpose?”

  Gage lifted one arm, placing his hand behind his head as he reclined back. He seemed far less concerned about the matter than I believed he should be. “I don’t know why. There’s certainly nothing remarkable to be found unless they wished to steal your jewels.” He narrowed his eyes at the window. “I’m not even sure someone did enter.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I find it hard to believe we wouldn’t have heard them clambering in through the window with naught but the aid of a rope. There is water on the floor, but the drapes are merely damp, so I suspect they waited until after the storm had passed to open the casements. Even so, I still think we would have woken if someone had attempted to enter our chamber through the window. But perhaps that wasn’t the point.”

  I bit my lip, apprehending what he meant. If their only goal had been to unnerve us, then they’d succeeded, at least for my part. But, of course, I hadn’t told my husband about my vision in the middle of the night. Perhaps if he was aware I’d either dreamt of or woken up to find someone hovering over us, he wouldn’t be so blasé about the matter. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him when a faint knock on the door presaged the entrance of the young maid who had ironed my gown the night before.

  She blushed at the sight of us together in my bed looking back at her. “I . . . I’m to tend the fires,” she stammered, lifting her bucket of implements.

  I nodded and sank back under the covers next to my husband and closed my eyes. Saying anything to her would only embarrass her further. So we lay quietly listening to the soft scrape and shush of her efforts as she rebuilt the fire in the hearth. Under normal circumstances, we would have still been asleep and never even marked her presence.

  I would have liked to fall back asleep, but my mind was too alert. And so, it seemed, was Gage’s, for the moment the maid slipped out the door, he threw the covers off him.

  “I need to speak to Rory.”

  “Why?” I watched as he rolled out of bed to approach the crackling fire.

  “Because I’ve just remembered that Alfred used that very method to climb into our tutor’s chamber and leave insects and other nasty surprises for him.”

  This pronouncement made me sit up, pulling my knees to my chest. I gingerly lifted the covers to search underneath. “You think your missing cousin climbed into our window?” I asked, not having considered the possibility that Alfred might have been our nighttime visitor.

  He lifted his eyebrows significantly. “That or someone wants us to think it was him.”

  I looked underneath his pillows and then mine. “Who else knew about his trick? I assume his brother must have been aware.”

  “Oh, yes. As well as several members of the staff. Though, truth be told, it’s hardly a secret maneuver. Kiera?”

  I glanced up to find him watching me with a gently reproving smile.

  “I hardly think he climbed up here to put a snake in our bed.”

  I lowered the blanket I’d been searching beneath. “Yes, of course.” But just in case, I decided it would be best if I rose for the day as well.

  Contemplating the matter, I donned my own sapphire dressing gown and crossed the room to perch on the edge of one of the rosewood armchairs with needlepoint upholstery positioned before the hearth. “It’s doubtful that whoever wished to disturb us came from elsewhere. The stormy weather alone would have discouraged anyone from being out and about.”

  “And no one outside of Langstone Manor even knows we’re here.”

  “So they must be from the manor.” I frowned. “We’ve speculated your aunt might be helping your cousin to hide. Do you think she could have gotten a message to him?”

  Gage stared into the fire, his brow furrowed in consideration. “Not unless he’s very close by. Perhaps even somewhere on the manor grounds.”

  “Are there places he could hide for such a length of time and not be discovered?”

  “I can think of a few. Although such a feat would require the assistance of at least one of the servants. I can’t imagine my aunt fetching and carrying food and other unmentionables, even for her own son.”

  “If Alfred is hiding nearby, do you thi
nk Rory knows? Do you think he suspects? After all, your grandfather isn’t in any shape to search the grounds, so Rory would be the only one he truly needed to avoid.”

  “And Hammett,” he replied, sinking into the other chair. “I have a difficult time imagining my grandfather’s majordomo being duped in such a manner. I suspect he’s already searched the manor and its grounds. Extensively.”

  A smile crept over my lips. “He doesn’t trust Alfred?”

  Gage snorted. “Not unless his opinion has drastically changed in the last fifteen years.” His mouth tightened as if he’d just realized it very well could have. Fifteen years was a long time. “But as far as whether Rory would help to shield him, I’m not certain. Though I think it’s evident neither he nor my aunt are sharing all they know.”

  “You sensed that as well, hmm?”

  “I would have to be the most obtuse person in all of England not to.”

  I tilted my head, ever curious about his family. “Tell me about Rory. He seems fairly kind and amiable.”

  “He does, doesn’t he?” His brow was puzzled.

  “I take it that wasn’t always the case?”

  “He was never as malicious as Alfred.” One corner of his lip curled derisively. “Though, that’s not saying much.” He exhaled. “No, I suppose looking back, Rory doubtless followed his older brother’s lead so that he wouldn’t turn on him. After all, if Alfred was focused on me, then he couldn’t tease his slower, smaller brother. But either time or Alfred’s absence seems to have given Rory courage and perspective.”

  “He did seem to feel genuine remorse for whatever memories he’d dredged up during dinner yesterday evening,” I offered.

  Gage nodded distractedly.

  “But based on everything I’m hearing, I don’t think I like Alfred much.” I scowled. “He sounds like an utter blackguard. One I’d like to give a piece of my mind as well as a sound thrashing.”