CHAPTER FOURTEEN

If I had been in another state of mind, I might have enjoyed the way Mr. Gage bristled like a cat and leapt out of his chair. As it was, the only thing I could see was the red haze that descended over my vision.

“Or perhaps the real murder weapon? Would you like to know where that is?”

“Damn it, Lady Darby!” Gage exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

I wandered across the loft, toward the stairs, gliding my hand over the banister. “Even better, shall I come up with a motive for you? I’m certain my unnatural, knife-wielding, cannibalistic tendencies are enough for most people, but perhaps you need a more common explanation for my actions.”

“Have you been up there the entire time?” he demanded, and then answered for himself. “But, of course, you have. I thought I specifically told you to stay away while I interviewed Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

“No. You only said Mr. Fitzpatrick would not speak freely if I accompanied you. He never knew I was listening. And neither did you.” I narrowed my eyes. “I must say I’m rather glad I chose to circumvent your orders. At least now I know what you really think of me.” I was amazed by the steadiness of my voice, considering how angry I felt. “I imagine Philip and Alana will be quite unhappy to discover how much you’ve abused their trust.”

“You have to understand, I need to gain these people’s confidence,” he began impatiently to explain as I slowly descended the spiral staircase. “They all believe you are some ghoul, and if I don’t take their concerns about you seriously, they will never trust me enough to speak openly. Besides, if the real murderer believes I’m focusing my attention on you, they might imagine themselves safe and slip up.”

He met me at the bottom of the stairs, and I stopped on the next-to-last step so that I was equal to his height. “So you’re not intending to name me as a suspect to the procurator fiscal when he arrives?” I raised my eyebrows. “Even if you can’t come up with a better person to accuse, you’re not going to present me as suspect number one?”

He did not reply immediately, and I took that as the answer it was and narrowed my eyes.

“I have to present all of my findings to the magistrate, regardless of my feelings on the matter.”

“Don’t you mean my findings?” I challenged. “After all, the most damning evidence you have against me are the clues I uncovered for you. Without my assistance, you wouldn’t have a shred of useful information beyond a bunch of nasty rumors.”

“And a corpse, Lady Darby,” he snapped, crowding in closer to me and blocking my escape from the stairs. “Don’t forget Lady Godwin herself.”

“Oh, yes.” I sneered. “A dead body, which you would have failed to realize was missing something very precious inside.”

“I would have discovered it eventually.”

“Of course you would have,” I replied sarcastically. “You wouldn’t have just assumed someone was trying to disfigure her womanhood.”

Gage gritted his teeth as I reminded him of the suppositions he made on the subject of Lady Godwin’s abdominal wounds.

“I believe my cooperation with you on the matter is finished. You can continue chasing rumors while I find the real killer.” I pushed forward, trying to sweep past Gage, but he would not let me by and, in fact, moved in closer until his nose was nearly touching mine. I refused to step back, even though his proximity made my stomach dip.

“You will not go this alone,” he told me, his blue eyes blazing. “You cannot go it alone.” I began to protest, but he pushed on. “No one will speak with you about it. They’re all too afraid of you and, at the very least, highly suspicious that you are the actual culprit.” I frowned, not liking the truth of his words. “Besides, Cromarty will never allow you to continue alone.”

“I do not need Philip’s permission,” I protested.

“In this matter, you do. Otherwise, I can ask him to lock you in your chambers for your own protection.”

A bolt of alarm streaked through me. “He wouldn’t. You wouldn’t,” I snapped furiously.

He moved his face an inch closer to mine. “I would,” he growled.

The air between us crackled with tension, neither of us wanting to be the one to relent. I was so close to Gage that I could pick out the silver flecks dotting his irises near his pupils.

I was furious with him, and myself. Angry that all of the control seemed to be in his hands—my fate yet again relegated to a man, as it had been with my father, Sir Anthony, and even Philip, as I depended on his approval to reside at Gairloch. I could not stand idly by and let Gage decide whether I should be accused before the magistrate. I would be a fool to do so. And I was incensed that I had been inclined to trust him, to share some of myself with him when he so clearly did not trust me in return and, in fact, planned to betray me.

However, irate as I was, I could not seem to shut down my awareness of him. And the longer I glared into his eyes, our bodies inches from touching, the stronger the tingling heat in my chest became, and the fuzzier my anger became. The tension and frustration were still there arcing between us, but they had taken on a blunter edge—one that suddenly seemed to draw me closer rather than push me away.

I sucked in a startled breath, one filled with the sweat and musk of his skin and the spicy scent of his cologne, as I realized what was happening. Gage clearly recognized it, too, for his pupils dilated and flicked down to my mouth. My lips tingled as if his gaze was tangible. For a moment, we hung there in limbo, neither of us moving, nor hardly daring to breathe. I was torn by indecision—and the fact that I was torn at all troubled me.

I watched as Gage swallowed, making the Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat, and then slowly stepped back. I was forced to take a solid grip of the stair rails in order to resist the urge to follow his retreat, as if I were suddenly a lodestone and he was north. I breathed in deeply and exhaled, waiting to hear what he would say.

Only a small tremor in his voice revealed that he was in the least affected by whatever had just passed between us. “Well, it appears you have as much need of my charm and communication skills as I do of your powers of observation and intelligence. It would not be in either of our best interests to split up.”

I appreciated his attempt to soften the blow of his earlier declaration, but I did not understand how he thought to make me agree with him. “How can you expect me to continue to assist you when you’ve just admitted you will be naming me as a suspect to the procurator fiscal?” I demanded, albeit with less heat than before. If he was willing to be calm and reasonable, I could be as well.

His hand lifted from the banister, where it had blocked my path, and he raked it through his hair. “I’m not telling you I would do so in order to hurt you. I don’t have a choice, Lady Darby. After one conversation with the other guests, the procurator fiscal is going to name you a suspect himself. Unless we can point him toward someone more culpable.”

I studied him, reluctant to trust him but aware his words were true.

“For what it’s worth,” he continued, planting one hand on his hip. “I don’t believe you’re the murderer.” His voice sounded steady enough, but his eyes told me he still held doubts. “Although, it would be helpful if someone would explain to me just what happened during this trial last year everyone keeps alluding to.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “There was never a trial. It never came to that,” I replied, but refused to elaborate further. Not after what had just transpired between us.

He searched my face, perhaps looking for any sign of weakness, of willingness to confide, but he quickly discovered I was determined in my silence. A few pretty words would not break through four years of wariness and fear, and a lifetime of circumspection when it came to sharing things about myself.

He moved aside to let me pass down the last step. “We have three days until the procurator fiscal arrives,” he told me, as if I didn’t already hear the time ticking away. “I would like to question Lord Marsdale and Mr. Calvin, Lady Godwin’s other lovers, next. I suspect Mr. Calvin is much like Mr. Fitzpatrick, or worse, and would not speak freely with a woman present, but you may accompany me to question Lord Marsdale if you wish.”

I turned to watch Gage closely, wondering if he had witnessed my exchange with Marsdale in the hall earlier.

“I suggest we wait until morning, however,” he continued. “Marsdale seemed a little worse for drink this evening.” He smirked. “Since he does not normally arise until after noon, I think a morning interview will be just the thing after a night of heavy indulgence. He will be quite grateful to us for waking him so early.” He glanced at me, and seeing my expression, his grin widened. “Did you think I hadn’t noticed how Marsdale finds you intriguing?” I tensed and he chuckled. “The man can’t stand to be turned down, and I suspect you’ve done it more than once. He’s fairly quivering with the need to conquer you before the party is over.”

I blushed. “Marsdale is only interested in tormenting me,” I protested.

“Which, in your case, indicates interest. You’re not like the typical ladies of our acquaintance, where displays of attention and flattery work easily. You’re a bit more challenging than all that.”

I scowled in indignation. “I should hope so.”

Gage smiled as if I had said something humorous. “Marsdale is a rather curious fellow, and I think your presence will actually loosen his lips instead of sealing them.”

I didn’t want to talk about Marsdale anymore—or contemplate why Gage did not seem bothered by his pursuit. “In the meantime, I wondered if perhaps we should search Lady Godwin’s chamber.” The thought had occurred to me after we passed by it twice this afternoon when we visited with Lady Stratford.

It was his turn to blush. “I already did.”

“When?”

He cleared his throat. “After our interview with Lady Lydia and Mr. Tuthill.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That was what you needed to do? Why didn’t you take me with you?”

He seemed to struggle with answering the question, for he tugged at his coat sleeves. “Well . . . I thought it would be best if you were not caught searching the room with me, just in case someone were to happen by.”

I arched an eyebrow in skepticism.

“I didn’t find anything of interest, in any case.”

“Did you even know what to look for?” I asked, recalling the mental list I’d constructed while I dressed for dinner.

Gage took exception to my criticism. “Madam, this is not my first investigation. I believe I know a bit more than you about what I need to search for.”

I ignored his irritation. “Yes, but do you know what to search for in regards to a woman who is with child?”

“How would those items have anything to do with incriminating a murderer?” Gage asked crossly.

“Well, it could tell us how many people knew she was expecting. For example, did her lady’s maid know?”

“We can interview her and ask her that.”

“Yes, but did Lady Godwin have anything lying around that would imply such a thing to others who might visit her room?” I asked impatiently.

Gage looked upward in thought. “No. It appeared like any lady’s bedchamber.”

I bit my tongue before I could ask just how many ladies’ bedchambers he had been in. I suspected I wouldn’t like the answer. “Fine,” I replied sharply. “Then I shall wish you a good night.” I turned to march out of the library, but he grabbed my arm to stop me.

“Promise me you will not pursue any leads without first informing me.”

I scowled.

“Tell me now,” he insisted, his pale blue eyes holding my gaze steadily. “Or I will ask Philip to lock you away for your own protection.”

“I don’t need protection,” I snapped.

Gage raised a single eyebrow. “Lord Westlock’s attack last evening, and the other guests’ hostility toward you, say otherwise.”

I frowned, hating that he saw as much as I.

He squeezed my arm. “Promise me.”

It was clear he was serious. I also knew that as much as Philip believed in me, and as often as he indulged my eccentricities, he would always place the matter of my safety before anything else. He would not hesitate to take Gage’s advice.

I stared defiantly at Gage, angry that he would place Philip and me at cross-purposes and win. No matter the futility in the fight, there was no way I was going to give in to his demand without first attempting to extract some assurances of my own. “I will if you will promise me the same,” I demanded.

He lowered his brow, clearly not liking the bargain. But after discovering he had searched Lady Godwin’s rooms without me, no matter the reasons, I was certainly not going to let him run free while I could not.

“All right,” he reluctantly agreed. “But do not think that I will let you control this investigation,” he warned, gripping my arm tighter. “You are assisting me. And what I say goes. If I believe for a minute you are in danger, I will pull you from this investigation and have you locked up somewhere safe. Do you understand?”

I had absolutely no intention of complying with such a command, not when I needed to be free in order to catch the murderer and prevent Gage from suggesting me to the magistrate. However, there was no need for Gage to know that. It would be best to carry on with him in blissful ignorance. So I bobbed my head once in agreement before fleeing the room.

I was grateful for the anger fueling my movements as I hurried up the central staircase and through the hallways toward my room, for it distracted me from the gloom and shadows that otherwise might have frightened me. By the time I reached my bedchamber, I was so absorbed in contemplating ways to thwart Gage that I nearly stepped over the piece of paper lying on the floor just inside my door.

I stumbled to a halt and stared down at the folded white foolscap, wondering if I should have been expecting it. I glanced behind me into the corridor, peering in each direction before I closed and locked the door. Only then did I bend and pick up the letter, for I knew that was what it had to be—another note from either the murderer or a guest who was very diligent in their persecution of me. I turned the page around in my fingers, checking it for markings, and then unfolded the paper. It crinkled between my stiff fingers.

PERHAPS YOU SHOULD LEAVE THE INVESTIGATING TO THOSE WHO ARE MORE EXERIENCED BEFORE YOU REGRET IT. ETERNALLY.

I blinked down at the words. Ice formed in my veins, chilling me to the core. If whoever had sent this intended to frighten me, they’d certainly done their job. But there was no way I was going to quit this investigation. There was simply too much at stake for me to heed to threats, especially if they only came from a vindictive guest on a witch hunt.

The idea that the letter might have been written by the killer’s hand gave me greater pause, but I was no less determined to defy them and discover why they wanted me off the inquiry so badly. Was there something the murderer worried I would uncover that Gage or Philip might not? Why? Because of my grim experience?

I frowned and refolded the letter, irritated to see that my hands were still shaking. Then I stuffed it into the drawer of my escritoire with the note from the night before. I knew one thing—I certainly wasn’t going to show the letter to Gage. After our altercation in the library, I knew he was looking for an excuse to ban me from the inquiry and lock me in my room, and I wasn’t about to give it to him. For the time being, I was more scared of what my absence from the investigation could cost me than what the murderer might do, foolish as that might be.

Even so, I tossed and turned long into the night and wondered if I was making a grave mistake.