CHAPTER TWO

Gage’s aunt and cousin blinked at us in astonishment.

“Or barring that, at least uncover what has happened to him,” Gage added. When still neither of them replied, he scowled. “Unless he’s no longer missing?”

Rory was the first to react, his demeanor brightening. “Capital! We could use the help, if you ask me. He’s been gone over ten days now, and while at first I thought my brother was simply off on some lark, he’s begun to worry me.”

“Grandfather said he walked out onto the moors one day and disappeared?”

He nodded. “No one’s seen hide nor hair of him since.” His mouth twisted. “At least, no one who’ll admit it.”

“Why would they keep something like that to themselves?” I asked, not understanding what he meant.

But before he could answer, Lady Langstone recovered herself. “Then I suppose you’ll wish to stay here?”

It seemed an odd response to such a revelation, particularly given the fact that Gage had traveled all this way to help locate her missing son. But perhaps that’s exactly why she couldn’t address it. Perhaps her hatred was such that she couldn’t contemplate the fact that Gage was here to lend his assistance, so she turned to safer topics.

“The emerald chamber, I think,” she murmured, frowning at the tapestry hanging on the wall.

“No need to go to the trouble. We’ll be more than comfortable staying in Windy Cross Cottage,” Gage interjected.

Rory darted an uncertain glance at his mother as she lifted her gaze to meet Gage’s.

His brow furrowed upon seeing their reaction. “Are there other tenants?”

Lady Langstone turned her head, studying him with one eye as she drew out her words slowly. “No, but the viscount had the cottage demolished.”

None of what had come before had seemed to disturb Gage, but at this pronouncement he winced. “Demolished! When?”

She glanced at her son, as if giving the matter some thought. “Oh, a dozen years ago or so. Not long after your dear mother was laid to rest.” She didn’t smile, but nonetheless I could tell how much satisfaction she had derived from relaying this bit of news to him.

Why it seemed to affect Gage so profoundly, I didn’t know, but I would have liked nothing more than to douse the twinkle in his aunt’s eyes.

“Then I suppose the emerald chamber will be satisfactory,” Gage replied, not bothering to hide his displeasure any longer.

The dowager baroness nodded assent and turned to the butler, who I’d almost forgotten still hovered in the shadows behind us. “Hammett, please see to it.”

“Aye, my lady,” he replied as he stepped forward. “Just as soon as I’ve shown them up to his lordship. Told me to bring them straight up just as soon as they arrived, he did.”

Based on the defiant curl in Hammett’s lip, I suspected this statement wasn’t strictly true, but whatever his reasons for circumventing Lady Langstone, I wasn’t about to argue with him. I was anxious to meet Gage’s grandfather and to hear his own thoughts on his missing heir and what exactly he believed we could do about it. But I did find it interesting that Gage wasn’t the only one who appeared to be none too fond of the dowager baroness.

Hammett did not wait for her ladyship’s agreement, but led us past her up the elegantly carved staircase and through the corridors to the master bedchamber.

As bleak as the exterior and entry hall had been, I still held hope that the remainder of the interior would be more welcoming. After all, my brother-in-law, the Earl of Cromarty’s, castle in the western Highlands appeared somewhat cold and austere from the outside, despite its lovely setting. The soaring hall was festooned with the weaponry of his ancestors—hardly an encouraging first sight for a weary traveler. But once you passed deeper into the castle’s recesses or stepped into the sweeping rooms, you felt the heart and life of the family living there, the echoes of the centuries of clan members who’d resided within its sheltering walls.

Not so at Langstone Manor. Though the floors were carpeted in plush rugs and the walls hung with paintings and tapestries—some of which I would have liked to pause and examine—there was no light or warmth, quite literally. A chill seemed to have permanently invaded the corridors despite it being the height of summer, and the few windows there were contained such dusky glass that they did little to peel back the shadows. The air was close and thick with must even though the adornments were spotlessly dusted.

As simple as the configuration of the manor appeared from the outside, the inside proved to be nothing of the sort. Apparently there had been numerous modifications and additions made to the house over the years, though for some reason these alterations hadn’t included many more windows than the original structure boasted. Whether the people residing here had simply wished to lessen their window tax or they’d been determined to hide something within, I didn’t know, but either way the result was a dark labyrinth of corridors and staircases.

I shivered, pressing closer to Gage’s side, wondering at his relatives, and ancestors, that they’d been so content to live in such environs. The lavish possessions adorning the space had been placed there in an attempt to alleviate the somber atmosphere, but wouldn’t their money have been better spent on widening the windows or reglazing those that already existed?

My thoughts turned to Gage’s mother. Had she been eager to escape? Was that one of the reasons she’d been so susceptible to Gage’s father’s charms? Though I’d never been on the receiving end of his allures, Gage’s father was supposed to be an even more legendary charmer than his son. As such, there had never been any doubt why she’d fallen for his golden good looks. But I’d wondered at her eagerness to marry someone below her social standing, a man who at the time had been a lowly mister with no hope of ever gaining a title, a man whom her family had threatened to disown her over. Ultimately they hadn’t, though her father had made certain to tie up much of the money she would inherit so that in the event of her untimely death it would go to her children and not her husband, but that had not meant they’d ever been accepting of her choice, merely tolerant. And in the end, her escape had been short-lived. Because of her illness, she’d returned here to live with her son while her husband was away at sea.

I glanced up at Gage, curious whether he was also thinking of his mother. It was impossible to tell whether his furrowed brow was evidence of reminiscences of the past or anticipation of the interview with his grandfather to come.

Hammett’s shambling gait finally drew to a stop before a heavy wooden door. He looked back at Gage almost in reproof before lifting his hand to knock. I didn’t understand what had been communicated between the two men, but from the manner in which his jaw clenched, it was apparent that Gage had. From within, we heard the sound of coughing, and then a rough voice called out for us to enter.

“Master Gage has arrived, m’lord, and his wife,” Hammett announced as he opened the door, and then stepped back to allow us through.

I’m not sure exactly what I’d expected to find, but it was not the wizened old man leaning back against a mound of pillows in a massive four-poster bed. Gage had described his grandfather as a proud man, a man to whom rules and propriety were very important. So for him to greet us in such a manner meant one thing. He was incapable of receiving us any other way.

I flicked a glance up at Gage’s stiff features, knowing he must be concerned by the discovery that his grandfather was quite ill. The old man had made no mention of his health in his letter. But then, a man like him wouldn’t.

Gage guided me a few steps closer, affording me a better view of the man who’d quite possibly had more influence on my husband’s upbringing than his own father. It was difficult to know how much of his appearance had been ravaged by illness and how much was part of his normal aspect. Whatever the case, in marked contrast to his renownedly beautiful daughter and handsome grandson, I doubted the viscount had ever been classified as appealing in all his life. In truth, Gage looked nothing like him. The only feature he might have inherited from his grandfather was his height, though Lord Tavistock’s stature was taken quite to the extreme. Even reclining in bed, he was close to six and a half feet tall, and whipcord lean.

It was good to see that despite his sickness, his will remained intact. He glared across the room at us with sharp silver eyes, the crystalline color made all the more arresting by being paired with the silver hair slicked back from his forehead. His rather prominent brow ridge and long, thin nose put me in mind of nothing so much as a greyhound or a whippet. And when he spoke, biting off his words in a hoarse growl, it did nothing to dispel the notion.

“Well, you took your time in coming, now, didn’t you?”

With all of the tension radiating from Gage, I’d expected him to scowl or snap back, but instead the old man’s surliness seemed to relieve Gage. A fond smile even curled the corners of his lips.

“Good evening to you as well, Grandfather.”

“Yes, yes,” the old man replied impatiently. “What took you so long?”

Gage pressed a hand to my back to move us toward the side of the bed, refusing to be hurried. “Considering the fact that we’ve come all the way from Ireland, and that Father had to forward your message on to me, I would argue we made admirable haste.”

I didn’t miss the way his grandfather’s mouth tightened at the mention of Lord Gage. “Suspect your father took his time about sending it.” His eyes flicked over me before narrowing on Gage in consideration. “Ireland, hmm?” Then he shook his head as if changing his mind. “I don’t want to know. But now that you’re here, perhaps someone can make heads or tails of this business.”

Gage’s eyebrows arched. “Maybe. But first I’m going to present my wife.”

The viscount’s gaze bored into mine as my husband performed the introductions. I suspected he was trying to intimidate me, but any effect his frosty glower might have had was rather diminished by the fact that he was also trying to stave off a coughing fit. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, he thought of me, but I couldn’t help but smile at the crotchety picture he seemed determined to make. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I murmured, offering him my hand.

It appeared for a moment the viscount might snub me. Then he slowly lifted his hand to clasp mine, allowing me to feel how his tissue-thin skin stretched over his bones even through my gloves.

“Now that that’s done, you can leave us,” he declared with finality as he turned back to his grandson. “We have family matters to discuss.”

This was a response I was accustomed to. Most people believed a gentlewoman had no place in a delicate inquiry, be it murder or something more benign. Even with my scandalous reputation, they often balked at my involvement, and I’d expected Lord Tavistock to be no different. As such, since it was his family, I was prepared to follow Gage’s lead, but I’d not expected such an impassioned response.

“Yes, and she is family now.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, anchoring me to his side. “She also happens to be a skilled investigator in her own right. If you wish to find out what happened to Alfred as quickly as possible, it would behoove you to enlist her help as well.”

My cheeks warmed upon hearing his praise, and I straightened my spine farther, hoping to help prove his point.

His grandfather’s eyes flashed with irritation.

“I’ll tell her everything you say anyway,” he pointed out. “Allowing her to stay simply saves us time.”

The viscount’s mouth remained clamped in a thin line for several moments longer, but upon seeing that his grandson was not about to relent, he grumbled his concession. “Like I told you in my letter, your cousin Alfred is missing. He walked out of the back garden gate onto the moors eleven days ago and vanished.”

“And no one saw which direction he was headed?” Gage glanced distractedly behind him, before crossing the room to move two ladder-back chairs positioned against the wall closer to the bed.

“No. At least, none who’ll admit it.”

Whether his words were an unconscious echo of his grandson Rory’s or not, I found it interesting that they both suspected someone of withholding information. I wondered if they were referring to the same person.

“And I suppose you’ve already searched the moors and the surrounding villages and countryside?” Gage asked.

The wooden chairs creaked as we settled into them, a fitting accompaniment to the wind and rain buffeting the windowpanes. I reached up to remove my straw crape bonnet and then tugged my fingers from my traveling gloves, a move I regretted, for my hands cramped with cold. A blazing fire crackled in the hearth on the opposite wall, but its heat did not reach far into the room. As sumptuous as the furnishings and fabrics were, they could not patch the drafty windows or shrink the size of the chamber. Nor could the scents of bay rum and lavender fully mask the sour stench of illness.

“Of course,” Lord Tavistock said. “There was no trace of him.”

“That or it hasn’t been found yet,” Gage replied gravely.

His grandfather nodded, his silver eyes darkened by some troubling thought.

I glanced between the men, trying to understand what they knew that I didn’t.

Noticing my confusion, Gage attempted to explain. “Much of Dartmoor is extremely isolated. It’s all too easy to become lost and disoriented. Especially if the weather shifts, which it is notorious for doing. It can be bright and sunny one instant, and then suddenly the sky clouds over and pours rain or snow, or a fog rolls in so thick you can’t see your hands in front of your face. There are more tales than one can count about people becoming lost out on the moors and never being seen again.” He glanced at his grandfather. “And anyone who lives near the moor can name at least half a dozen people they’ve personally known who’ve suffered a similar fate. Though most of the time it’s discovered later that they stumbled into a bog or froze to death.”

My eyes widened. “So is that what you suspect happened?” I asked, not wishing such a fate on anyone. Though I was curious how we were supposed to be able to help if that was the case. Surely the neighboring farmers and miners who worked on or near Dartmoor would be of much greater assistance than Gage or I ever could.

Gage studied his grandfather, who sat frowning down at the deep green blanket draped across his lap. “Did the weather shift that day?”

“No, but you know as well as I do that the weather on the high moors can change even when it doesn’t here,” he replied, still never lifting his gaze.

“But that’s not what you think happened?” Gage guessed, seeing the same obstinate light in his eyes that I did.

He lifted his liver-spotted hand to smother a cough, before retorting, “Did they tell you their balderdash theories?” He nodded toward the door. “That it’s all a bit of japery. That Alfred has taken himself off on some exploit and not seen fit to inform us.”

I shared a look with Gage, finding it interesting that, on the contrary, Rory had seemed to refute just such a possibility. Had he changed his mind?

“Has Alfred gone away without telling anyone before?” Gage asked.

“Not for more than a day or two,” the viscount argued.

“So it wouldn’t be entirely out of character?”

His grandfather scowled. “For a day or two,” he reiterated sharply. “And one of his ne’er-do-well friends always knew where he could be found.”

Gage’s lip curled into a sneer. “I see he hasn’t changed, then.”

At first the viscount looked as if he wanted to argue, but then realized he couldn’t. “No.”

Gage looked away. “Well, if he’s still anything like he was at school, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear some wronged husband or father shot him and sunk his body in a bog.”

“He is engaged to be married,” his grandfather countered between rasping coughs, as if this made a difference. “Or, at least, nearly so.”

“I’ll be sure to offer her my condolences.”

Before receiving his grandfather’s letter, Gage had spoken of his cousin only in passing, and after he’d relayed only the bare essentials because I’d pestered him for them. All I knew about Alfred was that he was two years older and, as his grandfather’s heir, claimed Lord Langstone as his courtesy title. Gage’s silence on the matter had seemed indicative of his concern, but now that assumption proved wrong. For it was becoming apparent that, whatever else was true about Alfred, Gage felt a great deal of animosity toward him.

Animosity that did not surprise his grandfather, who merely frowned at this last comment. “He will settle down after he marries. Most men do. Besides, Lady Juliana will be a viscountess, and a rather wealthy and influential one at that. That should be compensation enough for any trifling indiscretions.”

Spoken like a lord who had no concept what it was like to be a lady who has given all her power, all her wealth, all her independence to a man who doesn’t deserve it.

It was Gage’s turn to glower. “The Duke of Bedford’s daughter?”

“Yes. It’s a fitting match.”

“It’s a disastrous match! Lady Juliana is much too soft-spoken and gentle for the likes of Alfred. He’ll run roughshod over her.”

The viscount’s voice grew more strident even as he struggled to get his words out. “She’ll be deferential. As a wife should be.”

“That’s not how I remember Grandmother. Or my own mother, for that matter.”

The viscount thumped his fist against the counterpane with more force than his cough-choked voice could manage. “Do not speak of your grandmother that way.”

“And my mother?” Gage countered, almost rising from his seat. “But we already know she wasn’t deferential enough or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Gentlemen,” I interrupted before either of them could say something they would regret. “Please. This argument about Lady Juliana is of no consequence if we cannot find Lord Langstone.” I glanced between the two men, who continued to bristle at one another. I waited for the viscount to catch his breath, concerned by the rattle in his chest. He sank deeper into the pillows propped behind him, tiring from exertion. Nonetheless, we couldn’t leave our conversation as it was.

I urged Gage to pour him a glass of water from the ewer on the nightstand. “Now, Lord Tavistock, you seem to be certain that your heir is not absent of his own will. And you don’t believe he was a victim of the natural hazards of the moor. So what do you think happened to him?”

The viscount accepted the glass from Gage’s hand and gingerly sipped from it. I frowned. As strong as the bark of his cough had been, I’d expected him to gulp down the water. But the pain that crossed his features every time he swallowed told me this ailment was far more serious, affecting his tonsils and throat. If he had this much trouble ingesting water, how much food was he able to eat?

He met my gaze over the rim of his glass, and something in my features must have communicated what I’d deduced. Gage was forever teasing me that I was terrible at hiding my thoughts, and though I’d improved over the past months during our inquiries, I’d not taken care to guard my impressions from his grandfather. In the future, I decided it would be best if I did, for he scowled at me in annoyance. Breathing more heavily than before, he sank back into his pillows, passing Gage the glass, of which he’d only drunk a quarter of the contents.

The skin across Gage’s face stretched taut, having likely been reminded of his mother’s own battle with a similar illness. He’d once described to me her racking coughs, and his fear when she’d struggled to catch her breath.

“Why are Gage and I here?” I murmured, rephrasing my query in more succinct terms.

He continued to frown, clamping his mouth shut as if refusing to speak. He almost seemed angry that I’d asked him such a thing, that I was making him put it into words.

In truth, I already knew the answer. I had known it from the moment Gage had read his letter and explained how little communication he’d had with his grandfather in the past fifteen years. The last time my husband had set foot in Langstone Manor, he’d been here to bury his mother in the family plot at the churchyard nearby. Something had happened then. Something worse than the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death and the subsequent discovery that she’d been murdered. Something he’d yet to tell me, yet to explain. Until I better understood, I wasn’t about to spare Lord Tavistock’s sensibilities by saying the words he didn’t wish to utter.

But Gage was not of the same mind. “You think he’s met with foul play,” he surmised sharply, perhaps impatient for this interview to be over.

The viscount’s features seemed to sink in on themselves, becoming even gaunter. “That is my worry.”

“So the angry husband or father of a woman Alfred has trifled with isn’t outside the realm of possibility?” Gage charged.

His grandfather’s mouth pursed, but he stopped trying to deny it.

“Why do you suspect Lord Langstone has met with violence?” I persisted. “Do you have any proof?”

“Why do you think I asked you here?” he remarked stiffly.

I glanced at Gage, whose mouth was twisted in frustration. However, there was something in his eyes, something in the way he scoured his grandfather’s features that made me think he wasn’t completely attending to the conversation.

“Yes, but you must realize we need a reason to trust your assertion,” I explained, feeling like I was addressing one of my nieces or nephews, not an octogenarian. “How else are we to know where to begin?”

“I know that boy. He’s my heir. I would know if he’s in trouble, and I tell you, he is.” He raised his eyebrows imperiously in challenge.

I nodded, stifling a sigh. I wasn’t one to doubt the power of intuition. It had aided me more times than I could count. But surely Lord Tavistock understood we needed more information to go on than that.

I began to gather my things to rise, thinking perhaps it was time to bring this interview to an end. His lordship was fatigued. Just in the past quarter of an hour the hollows around his eyes had deepened. But then he surprised me.

“Sebastian is right,” he murmured, frowning at his legs. “Alfred has always had a . . . thirst for drink and women. If he’d taken the carriage or his horse into the village or off to a friend’s home and been gone for a night, maybe two, I would not be surprised. But eleven days?” He shook his head. “No. And certainly not walking on foot.”

I sat back, pondering what he’d just told us. “Why don’t you think he met with an accident—”

“Because he knew those moors! Knew them like his own face.”

“Yes, but Grandfather, men who’ve known Dartmoor far better than we ever could have still met their deaths out there,” Gage contended.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he snapped. “I tell you, your cousin didn’t fall into a bog or any such a thing. At least, not of his own folly.”

“But if he were drunk—”

“He wasn’t! Not when he left here.”

But I could tell he wasn’t so sure of that, and Gage’s skepticism was patently clear.

Whatever the real reason for Lord Tavistock’s certainty, it was apparent we were not going to coax it from him this evening. Not when he began coughing again, nearly doubling over from the effort.

Gage stood up, alarm tightening his features as he tried to assist his grandfather. Once he’d helped the old man rest back against his pillows, the viscount shooed him away. He shut his eyes as his chest rapidly rose and fell.

I pressed a reassuring hand to my husband’s arm. “Should we call for someone?” I asked his grandfather.

“No.”

I wanted to press, but it would do no good. He was not at death’s door, but if this illness persisted, at his age, it could not be far off.