Gavin saddled his mount and rode straight back to Galashiels. He strode into the inn. Eli Baker, the innkeeper, was sorting mail. He nodded a greeting.
“Did a stagecoach come in last night?”
Eli stopped working and thought a moment. “Aye, ’twas later than usual, but just before the big accident.”
“Do you remember how many were on the stagecoach?”
“Aye, I have it written here, somewhere.” He rummaged around on the counter and came up with a sheet of paper. “Here ’tis.” He handed it to Gavin, who studied it and felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.
“Did any of them get back on the stagecoach when it left?”
Eli stroked his beard. “Might have, can’t say for sure.”
Gavin pointed to a name on the list. “How about her?”
“She had a bairn with her,” Eli explained. “And she had a bum arm. The wife complimented her on how well she dealt with it all, with only one arm.”
“I see. But did she take the stagecoach out of here?”
Eli studied another list. “Looks like she did.”
Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat. “Did she have the baby with her when she left?”
Frowning, Eli said, “Can’t say fer sure. I didn’t see her meself.” He shouted for his wife, who poked her head around the door to the kitchen, and asked her.
“Nae, Mister Eliot, she didna’ hae a bairn with her when she left here,” Mrs. Baker assured him.
“But I do have a letter here for you.”
Gavin’s heart lifted. Hopefully it might be information about the baby.
The innkeeper checked around, hunting here and there, then put his hand on his stubbled chin and grunted. “Can’t find it. I know it’s here someplace.”
Disappointed, Gavin said, “If you find it, have someone bring it to the house, if you please.”
Promising to do that, the innkeeper continued to check slots and drawers until Gavin finally left.
Gavin swung onto his mount and made for home. Now at least he knew who the baby belonged to, or he was almost certain of it. The question was, why had she come here, and why did she leave the bairn?
• • •
Robbie had escaped to the room she’d been confined to for weeks, suddenly glad she could have some solace. She thought she’d had time to process all that she’d been through, but she was wrong. She was pretty much healed physically from the miscarriage, but in her heart there were many emotions she had never dealt with before, and they created havoc inside her.
A scratching at her door prompted her to open it. Lady Perlina trotted in as though she’d never left.
Robbie crossed her arms over her chest and gave the dog a stern look. “Traitor.”
Lady hopped up on the bed and settled in, her tail slapping the bedding.
Robbie sat on the bed and scratched the pup’s ears, reliving the past few days.
How was it possible to feel so much for something that was barely formed? Even Birdie had that right—it didn’t make sense. But Robbie felt such a sense of loss, even now, that she wanted to scream and weep and carry on like a fool.
Lydia had told her she might be depressed. Might? If what she was feeling wasn’t depression, she couldn’t define it. If she didn’t watch it, she could easily crawl into bed, pull the covers up over her head, and sleep for a month. Maybe then she’d wake up feeling better.
• • •
Gavin found Colin in the library. Although it was early in the afternoon, he was nursing a brandy. Colin raised his glass wearily.
“What in the hell do we do with a bairn?”
Gavin poured himself a drink and sat down across from his friend. “I think I know who it belongs to.”
Startled, Colin put his snifter on the table beside him. “You found something in Galashiels? You didn’t say anything earlier.”
“It wasn’t until Birdie described the girl that I got to wondering. The long, dark hair, the bum right arm…I know it sounds crazy, but I had to find out for sure.”
Colin leaned forward, his interest fed. “And?”
“I checked the passenger list at the inn. I’m quite certain Darla Dean was on the stage that stopped shortly before the accident.”
Colin sank back. “Darla? You mean that girl you tutored before you came out here? The one from Edinburgh?”
Gavin nodded. “Even though she listed her name as Darla Samuels, the innkeeper and his wife described her. It fit with what Birdie said. And the strange thing is,” he continued, “she left on the stage without the bairn.”
Frowning, Colin asked, “If her name was Samuels, how do you know it was her?”
“Because her father’s name is Samuel Dean.” He shrugged. “Of course I can’t be positive, but everything fits.”
“Why would she bring it out here?”
Gavin let the question sit in the air.
Suddenly Colin sat up straight and pinned Gavin with a stunned glare. “You don’t think that—”
“That the baby is mine? Good God, Colin; I’m no degenerate. The girl was barely fourteen.”
Still puzzled, Colin repeated, “Then why would she bring it here?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out.” He raked fingers through his thick, tight curls. “She was such a sad young thing, overprotected by her parents to the point of suffocation.” He paused, and then added, “Mrs. Dean’s young nephew, Lyle, also lived with them for a while. He was a student at university; I suppose he was eighteen or nineteen. He was often put in charge of her when they went out, or entertained at home.” A vile thought penetrated his gut.
Colin raised his glass. “What are you going to do?”
“I have to go to Edinburgh and find her, talk with her. I need to know why she would leave a baby with me, if that was her intent.”
“Did she have other family out this way?”
“Not that I’m aware of. And right now I have a wife who lost a baby, who is probably feeling alone and rejected, and I have to leave her.”
“And I get to referee the hens. A thankless job, to be sure.” He raised his snifter to his lips and swallowed the remainder.
• • •
Gavin slipped into Robbie’s room. She had crawled into bed and faced the window. Her pup was curled into the arc of her legs. He went to her bedside and gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed, but he noticed there was puffiness around them. She’d been crying.
He smiled as he remembered the day he had told her to stay and marry him. She had been crying then too, and her answer when asked was “you’re some detective,” or something like that. Saucy, she was, when she wished to be.
Her hair, the color of sable, had come loose from her chignon and fell over her shoulder. It was shiny and clean, and he had the urge to crawl in next to her and bring one of her curls to his nose and inhale deeply.
The freckles across her nose were more pronounced than usual, perhaps because she was still a little pale and wan from her ordeal. As he watched her sleep, he had such deep feelings for her, he almost became breathless.
“Yes,” he whispered softly, “you do take my breath away, Robbie Eliot.”
She stirred, opened her eyes, and turned her head. “Gavin? Is something wrong?”
“No. But I’m afraid I have to be gone again for a short time. Just to Edinburgh, and I promise it will be no more than a day or two.”
She turned on her back and stretched, the movement bringing her nightgown tight over her breasts. That innocent gesture gave him stirrings.
“When will you leave?”
“If I leave now, I’ll be back that much sooner,” he said.
She reached for his hand; he enveloped hers in his. “Be safe. At least you get to escape the commotion if only for a few days.”
“I trust Colin can handle the hens, as he calls them.”
Her smile was genuine and so sweet, he bent and kissed her. That too gave him stirrings, but when they separated, he simply ran his fingers over her soft cheek. “I hope you’ll be better very soon,” he said.
“Godspeed.”
• • •
Gavin stepped into the kitchen where the women were still squabbling about who would feed the babe at night. Or, at least Birdie argued that she shouldn’t have to. He’d had enough.
“Ladies, I’m to be gone for a few days, and while I’m away, I want the three of you to stop arguing about this baby. I was just in Robbie’s room, and I could hear you from there. Robbie is still healing. Remember that. Whether she acts like it or not, she is suffering from the loss, and having a baby in the house just reminds her of it.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Eliot,” Mrs. Murray said. “If no one else will feed the bairn at night, I will.”
“No,” said Lydia. “That’s not fair. I can do it. I’m accustomed to going without sleep.”
They all looked at Birdie, who merely raised her eyebrows. “Then it’s settled. You two can feed the bairn at night.”
With that, she got up and sashayed out the door, leaving them all wondering at her selfishness. Or not.