CHAPTER TWELVE

Cresting a windswept rise, we pulled our horses to a stop to gaze out over the landscape. From our vantage at Langstone Manor, and even walking northwest toward the Langstone, I’d not realized how varied the terrain was. Instead of one gradual, continuous rise, the moor undulated in dips and waves, sinking into valleys carved by the rivers and streams that flowed through it before climbing again. Below us the River Walkham ambled its way gently southward. But across its banks soared Great Mis Tor, its craggy slopes speckled with rocks and its summit topped by impressive towering stacks of granite.

A smoky haze had settled over the moor overnight, one that the brighter rays of the sun hadn’t yet burned its way through. But in spite of the mist, the air boasted a crisp, clear quality I’d experienced few other places. One that had a sharp, almost acrid undertone, and made the mouth pucker, but not unpleasantly.

Turning my eyes to the south, I glimpsed the stony peaks of Roos Tor and Great Staple Tor. Behind us to the east lay the manor and the village of Peter Tavy beyond. To the north stretched the desolation of Langstone Moor, its gorse and heather broken only by the occasional stone, and what appeared to be the remains of an old settlement.

I should have been overawed by the site—and I was—but I also felt uneasy, skittish. I’d dreamt again of a man watching us while we slept—a shadow looming over the end of our bed. But when I woke, there was no one there. Although, unlike the night before, the window had not been open.

I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was it a dream, an image conjured by my imagination? Perhaps influenced by our inquiry and the secrets that seemed to hide around every corner of Langstone Manor.

Or was someone haunting us, entering our chamber by another means? Gage had blocked the entrance to the secret passage, but what if there was another? Or what if the intruder had simply entered through one of our bedchamber doors? If so, how was it possible that I was awake enough to be conscious of his presence and yet unable to rouse myself to confront him?

I repressed a shiver at the disturbing prospect.

Sensing my apprehension, my horse danced to the side and tossed her head. I took a firmer grip on her reins and my tumbling nerves, and brought her back around while I forced calm, steady breaths through my lungs.

Gage cast me a curious glance, and I offered him as reassuring a smile as I could muster. In any case, it must be obvious to him that something was amiss. He knew well my skill with horses, and if a spirited gelding was unable to throw me, then I was certainly capable of handling this docile mare. Rory, however, was not familiar enough with my proficiencies to know better, and I’d done nothing to dispel that notion as he and Gage discussed horseflesh during our ride.

“What’s gotten into you, Eyebright?” Rory chided, reaching over to grip her bridle.

The pretty bay mare whickered in protest and then sank her head in shame. I felt guilty for letting her take the blame, but it was better that I not explain my anxieties to Rory.

Now that the horse was settled, he gave me a gentle smile and lifted his hand to point to a spot across the river. “That’s Lorna Galloway’s cottage.”

Nestled among the bell heather and bilberry on the lower slopes of Great Mis Tor, not far from where the river curved to the east, perched a small stone cottage. Cottage being a somewhat ubiquitous term, ironically encompassing everything from humble one-room dwellings to lavish country residences boasting upward of twenty rooms. I hadn’t known precisely what to expect. But this home definitely fell closer to the modest end of the category.

I found it difficult to picture Lord Sherracombe riding his horse all the way out here to visit his mistress. I wasn’t sure if such an arrangement spoke more to his character or his mistress’s. Whatever the case, I hoped she’d loved the moor, just as I hoped her daughter did, because they certainly lived in the depths of it.

I couldn’t help being curious about this woman who’d been raised in such relative isolation, with naught but her mother and occasionally her father for company. Dartmoor was hauntingly lovely, but also wild and unforgiving. Such an environment must have imprinted on her soul somehow. Perhaps that was why Rory was so certain she was a witch.

I nudged my horse forward, trailing Rory down the hill toward the river. Our steeds carefully picked their way through the rocks along the banks of the river upstream until Rory found a place for us to cross. Along this upper valley, the river was by no means wide, but it was riddled with slick rocks. One wrong step by man or beast could result in broken limbs or a deadly head injury.

“There’s a stone slab bridge further upstream.” Rory nodded toward the north. “But it’s too narrow for the horses.”

But not too narrow for Alfred to have used. It further explained why Rory had suggested he might have headed northeast away from the manor and then across to the east before turning south.

Rory guided us to a spot where the river was shallow enough I could see the pebbled bottom. Thirty feet or so further up the stream, the water cascaded musically over a stretch riddled with rocks, slowing the flow of water. This ended in what amounted to a crisp little pool where small trout darted to and fro. The location of Miss Galloway’s cottage had been chosen with care. The cascade would provide clean drinking water, and the pool offered an abundance of fish.

Once across, we followed a narrow trail along the river’s edge, which utilized a natural indentation in the rising slope of Great Mis Tor so the climb was not so steep. The path then leveled off and led away to the north and the stone cabin.

Glancing about me, I couldn’t see another habitation or living soul, merely rocks, heath, and sky. If one climbed to the top of the tor, I imagined you could see for miles around on a clear day. But at this lower point you might have believed yourself the only person in the world.

It was beautiful, and its solitude called to my artistic nature, making me want to hole myself up here in this desolate spot and paint until I was too exhausted to stand. And then wake up and paint some more. I’d rarely had time to indulge myself in such a manner in months. I could already feel my fingertips tingling with the desire to grip my specially weighted brushes.

The idea of living such an isolated existence also chilled me. Not so long ago, I’d considered just such a life. Worn down and disillusioned by all that had befallen me after the scandal over my involvement in my late husband’s anatomy work, I’d thought to seclude myself in a cottage much like this. My sister and brother would have both been happy for me to continue shuffling between their households, but I’d begun to feel the weight of being such a burden to them. Withdrawal had seemed like it might be a better option. Had Gage not suddenly entered my world and made me long for more, convincing me to risk my life and my heart even after all I’d been through, I might very well have ended up just like Miss Galloway.

Except I wouldn’t have been completely alone. I knew my family. They might have let me live in my little cottage, but they would never have stayed away. I would have had frequent visitors. But according to Rory, Miss Galloway had no one but an absent father.

“Miss Galloway lives here all alone?” I asked Rory again, feeling a sort of trepidation at the prospect of seeing the other side to the coin I’d flipped.

Rory glanced over his shoulder, allowing me and Gage to ride our horses up alongside his before he answered. “Yes. Gossip in the village says she let the charwoman go who used to come out to her cottage to cook and clean several times a week. The same woman whom Sherracombe had hired to do so for her mother since he moved her out here.” His voice was tight with a disapproval I didn’t understand, for this action had no bearing on him. Unless he alleged the charwoman’s dismissal was to keep her from prying into Miss Galloway’s witchy activities.

As we drew closer to the stone cottage, I could see that it was indeed small, likely boasting only two or three rooms. A curtain in one of the windows twitched, and a few moments later a young woman emerged onto the small stone porch extending from the house in the direction of the river. She moved toward the corner closest to us, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched us approach. Her stance didn’t appear the least inviting.

Neither did her face as we drew near enough to see it, though it was lovely. Large, heavily lashed eyes narrowed at us, and her pale pink lips puckered in antipathy. I could hardly blame her, especially when I glanced at Rory and saw the thinly veiled contempt gleaming in his eyes. Had I been able to reach him and also do so subtly, I would have elbowed him in the ribs.

Rory might distrust her, but thus far she’d done nothing to earn our disdain. We were the ones trespassing on her favor, so to speak. Unless the sight of her unbound hair was what had so riled him. Her long blond locks fell past her waist, tied back from her face with a ribbon like a young girl might have worn. As a rule, women did not wear their hair down among polite society, but then again, she probably hadn’t been expecting company. However, the rest of her appearance was faultless, even somewhat modest, given her high-necked, lace-trimmed rose-patterned dress and kid boots.

In any case, Gage seemed unruffled by her appearance, giving her one of his most charming smiles. “Pardon us for the intrusion,” he demurred, breaking the rules of protocol to speak to her before his cousin could properly introduce us, undoubtedly out of fear of what rude remark Rory might open with. “We don’t wish to impose upon your time.” He nodded to Rory. “But my cousin said you might be able to help us.”

“How is that?” she retorted, not softening in the least under Gage’s attention.

Ignoring the hostility in her gaze, he dismounted so that he could speak with her at her level. Or a little below her level, as the height of the porch put her above anyone standing below. “I’m Sebastian Gage, and this is my wife.”

She flicked a glance at me as I also dismounted, quickly dismissing me.

“We’re looking for my cousin, Lord Langstone. His grandfather is concerned because he’s been missing for nearly a fortnight. The last anyone saw of him, he walked out onto the moor and never returned.”

Miss Galloway tilted her head. “And what is that to me?” It was spoken as almost a challenge. She must have known what people presumed about her. She would have to be soft in the head not to. But it was obvious she resented those assumptions.

“We thought you might have seen something.” Gage hesitated. “Are you acquainted with Lord Langstone?”

Miss Galloway arched a single eyebrow, clearly aware we knew the answer to this question. I almost smiled at her refusal to be taken in by Gage’s charm and careful handling.

“I’m sure Mr. Trevelyan has already informed you of that fact.” She shot Rory a venomous look where he still remained on horseback.

“Is he here?” Rory replied bluntly.

I could see that Miss Galloway wanted to deliver him a scathing set down, but she settled for a sharp-worded “No” instead.

Rory narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Gage interjected before Rory could speak again. “Could he have passed this way?”

She exhaled in frustration. “I already told the men who were out searching for Lord Langstone during the days immediately after he apparently went missing that I’d not seen him in over a week. I’m sorry he’s missing, but I can’t help you.” She spread her hands. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Did he ever say that he planned to go away, or mention any friends he intended to see?”

She shook her head, her patience growing thin.

“Was he acting strangely in any way that last time you saw him?” Gage hastened to ask before she cut him off.

This question made her brow furrow, though I couldn’t be sure why. Truth be told, I was having difficulty interpreting her mannerisms. She was guarded and irritated by our presence, but had she also adopted her angry, rigid behavior to mask the fact she was lying?

Before she could form a reply, Rory spoke again, making me wish we’d left him behind and found our way here on our own.

“Why did you dismiss old Mrs. Dunning?”

I assumed he meant the charwoman he’d mentioned earlier. A matter which, as far as I could tell, had no bearing on Alfred’s disappearance.

Any softening that Gage had painstakingly achieved with Miss Galloway was lost as her spine stiffened. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“What are you doing in that cottage that you didn’t want her to see?”

She gave a mocking laugh. “What do you think I’m doing? Brining cats? Filleting fenny snake?” she quipped, borrowing from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. “Poisoning entrails?”

But this last taunt struck too close to Rory’s suspicions, and he pounced on it like a cat with a string. “Are you making poisons? Is that why you sent Mrs. Dunning away?”

Miss Galloway scowled. “Why should I pay someone else to do something I can do for myself?”

“If Lord Sherracombe is willing to compensate her, why would you want to do the work yourself?” Rory sneered.

I could sense the frustration simmering within her that she would never be able to make such a man understand, so I quietly answered for her.

“Because life is fickle.”

She lowered her gaze to meet mine for the first time since we’d been introduced.

“Because Lord Sherracombe might not have the decency or the foresight to leave her anything in his will, and his heir might not wish to continue to support her.”

Something flickered behind her eyes, a sort of understanding, as she recognized I was far more familiar with her situation than she would have ever guessed.

When Sir Anthony had died, he’d left me little more than a pittance. The rest had gone to his cousin—a man who had never liked me, and absolutely despised me after learning of my part in Sir Anthony’s work. Had my sister and her husband not welcomed me into their home, I would have had nowhere to go, and barely enough money to live respectably, albeit humbly for a handful of years. After that my only choice would have been to remarry or find some form of employment in the few positions open to impecunious gentlewomen. That is, if I could convince a man or an employer to overlook my lack of fortune and scandalous past. I shuddered to think what would have become of me if not for my family.

Men like Rory and even Gage had never had to worry about such eventualities. Even as a second son, Rory could rely on Lord Tavistock to bequeath him a significant enough portion that he would never need worry about survival. His brother might eject him from Langstone Manor when he inherited, but he would have enough funds to live elsewhere without difficulty. Just as Gage had known since a young age that he would always inherit the portion Lord Tavistock bestowed on him as the future child of his mother in Emma and Lord Gage’s wedding contract. This had enabled Gage to live his life without being under his father’s thumb, and had made our marriage possible. Otherwise, I was certain Lord Gage would have cut him off without a farthing for daring to defy him and wed me.

As such, even though Miss Galloway’s life had been very different from my own, I still felt an affinity for her. Her intelligence and spunk only made me predisposed to like her more, as well as her refusal to cow to either Rory’s badgering or Gage’s charm. Such delight in her actions was counter to our aims, but I enjoyed it all the same.

Miss Galloway’s green eyes gleamed at me, as if she recognized the pleasure I was taking in her defiance.

“I comprehend your predicament, Miss Galloway,” Gage replied politely. “But it really is most urgent that we find Lord Langstone. Is there truly no assistance you can give us?”

“I suggest you search her cottage,” Rory declared. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find she’s hiding him. That or you’ll find evidence of his belongings. Perhaps when her poison didn’t work on him she killed him by a more direct method.”

Miss Galloway’s glower returned, though this time it was also tinged with a perplexity I shared. Why was Rory so antagonistic? His remarks went above and beyond mere condescension. And why was he suddenly so certain she had played some part in Alfred’s disappearance? The location of her cottage, isolated out here among the moors, was convenient to the last place Alfred was seen, but one could hardly cast blame based on the placement of a person’s dwelling.

“You are not entering my cottage,” Miss Galloway retorted to Rory and then nodded at Gage. “And neither is he.” Her eyes then fell to me. “But I’ll allow Lady Darby to search if she wishes.”

So she was aware of who I was. Gage had introduced me as his wife. He’d made no mention of the title from my first husband I retained out of courtesy. Who had told her about me? Alfred? The villagers?

I stepped forward, willing to put our curiosity to rest, and hopeful she would more readily answer our questions without Rory glaring sullenly down at her from the horse he’d never dismounted. But Gage reached out a hand to halt me. I looked up into his pale blue eyes, able to read his concern. Though he had the courtesy not to say the words aloud, I knew he was asking me whether following Miss Galloway inside was a wise thing to do.

I arched my eyebrows, uncertain what exactly he assumed would befall me inside. Did he think Miss Galloway would attack me? Or was he more worried about her casting a spell?

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him in a low voice.

Miss Galloway stood by her door, ushering me inside. Although I didn’t share Gage’s trepidation, I still paused ever so slightly at the threshold. Yes, I felt a kinship with this woman, but I didn’t truly know her. What if I was wrong to believe she didn’t wish me ill? After all, I’d been fooled in the past.

I met her gaze, and the steady, watchful regard she returned helped me take the final step inside. If she were intent on harming me, wouldn’t she have given me a reassuring smile in order to coax me into her domain?

Even so, my heart kicked in my chest as she slammed the door shut behind us.