A Study in Death (Lady Darby Mystery, A Book 4) (8 page)

“There you are.” His eyes twinkled. “I’d begun to think some disreputable man had run off with you.”

“Only Mr. Knighton and Dr. Graham.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Really? Well, then I might have to have a talk with my old friend then.”

I darted a glance over my shoulder. “I believe they’re still near the middle of the room, if you wished . . .”

My voice trailed away as I caught the way he was looking at me, an amused smile curling his lips. “What?” I asked in confusion.

“I take it Mr. Knighton didn’t accost you?”

“Of course, not! Why?”

He stared at me expectantly.

“Oh,” I murmured, finally apprehending his meaning. “You were jesting. Because of my gown.”

Seeing my abashment, he smiled broadly and pulled me close. “You are remarkably observant, but there are times when you can be delightfully obtuse.” He leaned down so that his nose almost brushed mine. “It’s quite reassuring to those of us with duller wits.”

I couldn’t not smile at a compliment like that, especially when we both knew very well that Gage’s faculties were quite sharp. “Balderdash,” I teased back. “If your wits are dull, then the rest of this assembly must be positively blunt.”

“Mr. Gage,” a strident voice called out.

We both turned as one to see Lady Willoughby de Eresby swishing her way toward us wearing an enormous feather headdress. I expected the plumage to flop forward over her face at any moment, but remarkably it stayed in place. I could only guess that it had been starched, much like the gentlemen’s shirt points and cravats, to remain smooth and upright.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” she harrumphed.

“I’m flattered, my lady,” Gage replied, pouring on his usual charm. “How may we . . .”

“Alone,” she demanded, turning her back so as to all but cut me dead.

My mouth dropped open in shock. Though common during the month I remained in London after Sir Anthony’s death, it had been six months or more since anyone had snubbed me with such ferocity. I knew now that I had not been imagining the pointed whispers and narrowed eyes directed at me; however, I had no idea what had heralded their return. Had the rumors regarding my scandalous past resurfaced, or was there some new infraction for which I was being shunned?

I glanced at Gage, anxious that he would be embarrassed by her ladyship’s behavior, but instead I saw outrage stamped across his features. Knowing we still needed information from Lady Willoughby de Eresby, and worried his defense of me might create an even bigger scene, I pressed a restraining hand to his arm. He did not look at me, but I could see him visibly inhale, calming himself.

“Allow me a moment to fetch
my fiancée
a bit of refreshment, and I shall be content to speak with you,” he replied, not completely banishing the edge to his voice, though I was sure it was done purposely. I felt a flush of pleasure at his emphasis of our relationship, and grateful to him for still finding a way to defend me even under difficult circumstances.

“I would be happy to escort her,” Mr. Knighton chimed in, having inched closer to us at some point during the confrontation. “It would be my privilege.”

Gage shared a significant look with his friend, and then nodded. “I shall join you both shortly.”

He transferred my arm to Mr. Knighton, taking an extra moment to squeeze my fingers before he let him lead me away. His eyes were
still flat with repressed anger, but I could feel the reassurance he was trying to convey to me in his touch.

I did not look back, though I wanted to. I suspected the crowd had filled in behind us anyway, eager to eavesdrop on what Gage and Lady Willoughby de Eresby had to say.

Mr. Knighton led me out of the drawing room and across the hall to the quieter and cooler dining room, where a spread of food had been laid out. Conscious of those who might have followed us in order to overhear our conversation, he waited until our backs were to the room.

“I gather you need something from her ladyship,” Mr. Knighton said as he served us each a glass of punch. When I didn’t immediately respond, having been surprised by this speculation, he looked over at me. “Otherwise no amount of interference on your part would have kept him from rebuking her for her treatment of you.” He took a sip of his punch and narrowed his eyes at those in the room around us. “Most people think of Gage as an amiable, charming gallant, and that’s the way he prefers it, but he can be feral, especially when he’s riled. I went to Cambridge with him. I watched him defend his mother when fellow students made disparaging remarks about her.”

“They ridiculed his mother?”

“Mostly her illness.” He tipped his dark head. “And Gage for living with her instead of in a room at the university.”

Gage had told me about his mother’s sickness, and how his grandfather had obtained special permission for him to live in a cottage with her near Cambridge. It had been the only way he would consent to attend, having refused to leave her alone in their home near Plymouth. His father had been away at sea almost fifty-one weeks out of the year, manning the blockade versus Napoleon and France and transporting supplies to the troops on the continent.

“He has always been protective of the women he cares for,” Mr. Knighton mused. “Sometimes to his own detriment.”

I glanced at him, uncertain exactly what he meant. I didn’t think
he was referring to me. Then a thought formed in my mind. “You mean in Greece?”

“Yes.”

My heart began beating faster at this confirmation that there had been a woman involved in whatever had happened to Gage in Greece. He had yet to explain the events that had transpired there to me. All I knew was that it had something to do with the Greeks’ fight for independence from the Turks. Gage had remained closemouthed about the rest, promising to tell me when the moment was right.

But apparently Mr. Knighton knew something about the incident. I considered pressing him for more information, but then decided it was not his to share. When Gage was ready to tell me, he would. However, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use this new bit of knowledge to further attempt to persuade him. Gage did not share things easily—something I understood, being the same way myself—so sometimes he had to be coaxed into revealing more.

“Does he still wear his pistol tucked into the back of his trousers?”

I glanced at Mr. Knighton in surprise. “Most of the time, yes.”

He nodded.

“But I thought that was because of the nature of his business?”

He turned to meet my gaze with his emerald green one. “I’m sure it is.” I could see him debate whether to say more. “But that’s not why he began doing so.”

My eyes widened.

“He hasn’t told you, has he?”

I shook my head. “Not all.” Not most.

Mr. Knighton’s countenance turned haggard and he looked away. “Well, I don’t know everything either. I just happened to be with him on a night not long after his return from the continent when he got too deep in his cups.”

An image of Gage in such a state—too lost to the world to care
about guarding his secrets—formed in my mind, and my chest tightened. I had never seen him so despairing and I hoped I never would, no matter how anxious I was to uncover all of his mysteries.

We stood surveying the room a moment longer, and then Mr. Knighton linked my arm though his again and we moved off in the direction of the parlor, which had been set up as a gaming room. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I almost overlooked the sight of Lady Kirkcowan hurrying out of it, a harried expression stamped across her porcelain features.

“Would you excuse me a moment?” I told Mr. Knighton, remembering my promise to Gage. I followed her progress toward the back of the house with my eyes.

“Of course.”

I wove through the guests lining the hall, catching up with her just as she paused to consider whether to go left or right. “Lady Kirkcowan.”

She turned to face me, struggling to master her feelings. “Lady Darby, I’m afraid you’ve caught me at . . .”

“I need just a moment of your time,” I interrupted before she could dismiss me entirely. “Please.”

She glanced about her and then sighed and nodded, lifting the skirts of her lavender gown.

We moved a few steps to the side of the hall, into the shadow cast between two wall sconces.

“You want to ask me about Lady Drummond,” she guessed.

“I’ve been told you were friends,” I replied obliquely. When she didn’t respond, I pried further. “Had the acquaintance been long?”

“Since we both made our curtseys at court. I tripped over the hem of my dress, but rather than titter behind her fan at me like the other debutantes were doing, she came over to see if I was well.”

That sounded like Lady Drummond.

“Did you remain close?”

She regarded me thoughtfully with her golden eyes. “We called on each other at least once a month. But if you mean, did we share confidences, I’m afraid the answer is no.”

“When did you see her last?” I murmured in a lower voice, knowing the answer was likely to cause her some pain.

She dropped her gaze and twitched at her skirts. “She called on me last Tuesday.”

“And did she seem . . . well?” I asked, opting for the vague term so that Lady Kirkcowan could interpret it as she wished.

“Yes. Perhaps a little more tired than usual, but nothing to be alarmed about.”

I nodded.

Her eyes searched mine. “Is it true then?” she whispered.

I leaned closer. “Is what true?”

She looked at the group of ladies standing closest to us, as if to be sure they weren’t listening. “That you and Mr. Gage are investigating her death?”

I stiffened in shock. “Where did you hear that?”

“I . . . I don’t recall exactly. I think I overheard someone in the ladies’ retiring room talking about it.”

I pressed a hand to my suddenly swirling stomach and glanced about me. How had news of our inquiry become so public? It was true, we had questioned several people, both members of the ton and apothecaries, and any number of them could have shared our actions, but I was still surprised at the speed at which it had spread. Or perhaps people were only making assumptions based on the fact that I had been there the day Lady Drummond died.

Whatever the reason, Gage was not going to be happy our inquiry was no longer so private.

“It’s true then?” Lady Kirkcowan implored. Her brow furrowed. “Because if it isn’t, it should be.”

“Why do you say that?”

She glanced about her once more. “Because it seems awfully convenient for Lord Drummond that his wife is suddenly deceased since her dowry is spent and he’s about to be floating up the River Tick. Unless he can find a wealthy new bride, that is.”

A situation that sounded like it struck remarkably close to home for Lady Kirkcowan given her husband’s gambling problems. I couldn’t stop my eyes from dropping to the diamond and sapphire necklace draped around her neck.

She reached up to finger it. “It’s paste.”

Her gaze turned challenging, almost as if she dared me to say something about it. At first I wondered if it might be her pride I was in danger of wounding, but the longer I continued to meet her stare, the more apparent the fear behind her defiance became. Gage had been right. She was hiding something, and it was most likely the jewels her husband believed were stolen.

I opened my mouth to tell her something reassuring when a deep voice spoke behind me.

“Lady Darby.”

Lady Kirkcowan stiffened and I turned to see who had so unsettled her.

At first I was puzzled by the hard glare of the man standing before me, and why it was directed at me, but as I studied him, his features slowly became more familiar. I knew that cleft in the chin, that strong jawline. I knew that determined frown, and that twist of the curls on the forehead, even if this man’s hair was now gray instead of golden.

“Lord Gage.”

I
tried my best not to show how shocked I was, but I was certain Lord Gage could tell anyway. Had Gage known his father was coming to Edinburgh? That he was here this evening? I wanted to look around for him, but something told me it would not be wise to break eye contact with the man before me, that to do so would mean I had already failed some kind of test.

I locked gazes with him, reminding myself I’d faced far worse things than the iron stare of my future father-in-law. As a retired naval captain, he was accustomed to others bowing to his will. That was why he and Gage had clashed so fiercely these past few months, even if only from a distance through letters. Gage was tired of following his father’s dictates, and Lord Gage was not willing to allow him the freedom to make his own decisions. I’d gathered that the struggle between them had steadily been escalating, and had finally come to a head over Gage’s refusal to wed the debutante his father had chosen for him. Instead he’d announced his engagement to me. Gage had not shared his father’s reaction to the news, if in fact he even knew it, but knowing the little bit I did about Lord Gage, I could guess what it had been.

And apparently, the matter had been serious enough for him to travel all the way to Edinburgh to address in person.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” he pronounced in precise, clipped tones. It was a style of speech someone perfected rather than developed naturally. His eyes swept up and down my form, and it was obvious he found me lacking. “As does yours.”

His disapproval stung even though I had been expecting it. Society had been judging me and finding me deficient even before the scandal following Sir Anthony’s death. The difference was that I cared little for much of the ton’s opinion, but I was anxious for Lord Gage to like me, at least for his son’s sake.

“Actually, I recognized you because your son looks so much like you. Just younger.” I tilted my head. “Except your eyes. He must have inherited those from his mother.”

“Indeed,” he bit out, and I wondered if it was possible to lace a word with more disdain. His eyes pivoted to skewer the woman I had just been speaking to. “Lady Kirkcowan.”

She curtsied stiffly. “Lord Gage.” Rising, she pressed a hand to my shoulder. “Please, excuse me. There’s a matter I must see to,” she murmured.

“Of course,” I replied, but she was already moving off before I could finish the words. Lord Gage watched her make her hasty retreat with narrowed eyes.

“I was asking her about her lovely gown,” I said, trying to distract him. “I think my sister would be eager to have something similar once she’s through her confinement. We expect the baby any day now.”

“Do not paint me the fool, Lady Darby.” His eyes blazed angrily. “I know exactly why you were speaking to her. And I expect my son asked you to do it.”

“Yes,” I hissed with a forced smile. “But I didn’t think you wanted it known publicly.” I glanced out of the corner of my eye at the people surrounding us, inching ever closer to hear our conversation.

Lord Gage turned to glare at a woman who was actually leaning our way. She flinched and moved away. He inhaled and his shoulders dropped as he seemed to settle himself.

His gaze turned calculating. “Or were you questioning her about another matter entirely? A recently deceased friend, perhaps?”

I stiffened in surprise.

His lips quirked haughtily.

I fumbled for what to say next. What did Lord Gage know of the matter? Or was he only speculating based on the rumors circulating the ball? I was suddenly suspicious of the connection between Lord Gage’s arrival and society’s renewed animosity toward me. Gage had said his father could be ruthless. Would he go so far as to rekindle the scandalous rumors surrounding me in hopes that it would upset and embarrass his son enough to persuade him to break our engagement?

“Father?”

I was saved from making a reply by Gage’s appearance. He halted next to us and stared at his father with a mixture of alarm and frustration. “Sir, when did you arrive in Edinburgh?”

Lord Gage stared up and down at his son’s faultless appearance. “This afternoon. I called at your rooms, but I was informed you were here.” The tone of his voice made it clear that he had been displeased by this.

Gage’s jaw tightened, but he did not make the sarcastic remark I knew he longed to. Instead he turned to me and reached for my hand. “I see you’ve met my fiancée.” He offered me a reassuring smile. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Mmm, yes,” his father replied in a voice that conveyed the exact opposite. He arched his eyebrows significantly. “She was speaking to Lady Kirkcowan.”

Gage’s posture was as straight as a poker. “I see. Well, they are acquainted.”

“Is it a long-standing friendship or newly formed?”

“I’m not certain. Does it matter?”

I felt my eyes widen as the contentious conversation bounced back and forth between father and son. It was like watching a fencing match, overtly polite and correct, but barbed underneath.

Lord Gage shifted closer to his son. “It does if they were discussing a matter which I expressly forbid you to involve her in.”

Gage’s fingers tightened around mine as if in unconscious reaction. “Perhaps this is a conversation we should have elsewhere.”

Lord Gage studied his son and then nodded shortly.

“I will call on you tomorrow.” Gage turned to me, pulling my arm through his. “If you don’t mind, my dear, I think I should like to retire.”

“Of course.”

“There’s no need for that,” Lord Gage interrupted. “I shall accompany you now.”

Gage stared at him. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is.”

The pent-up hostility between the two men fairly made the air quiver. I felt the hair along my arms stand on end. I glanced about me, knowing I couldn’t be the only who had noticed.

“Perhaps we could go
now
,” I whispered, wanting to escape the avid gleam in the eyes surrounding us.

Gage did not look at me, but he did wrap a protective hand around mine where it lay on his other arm. As we pushed through the crowd, who parted in the face of Gage’s angry stride, I did my best to keep my head held high. I could hear the sharp click of Lord Gage’s tread following us, and it was like a hammer to my already fragile composure.

Our outer garments were quickly fetched, and then we were climbing into Gage’s carriage. The night air was cold and I was grateful for the press of Gage’s warm body along my side as he settled into his seat. I stared out the window as Lord Gage sat across from us and the door was latched. The coach rocked as the footman climbed onto the back and then we were rolling forward.

I blinked as Lord Gage reached over to twitch the window curtain shut.

“Sebastian, what is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “I arranged a politically advantageous marriage for you. One I went to great lengths to cultivate, mind you. And not with just some snub-nosed chit, but with the most charming and beautiful debutante in all of England. But instead of the grateful and dutiful arrival of my son in London, I receive a letter telling me you
refuse
to wed Lady Felicity. And to complete the outrage, in her place you’ve chosen to wed this . . . this butcher’s wife.” He gestured toward me with disgust.

It was an epithet I hadn’t heard in some months, referring to the years I had spent sketching the dissections made by my late husband, an anatomist and surgeon, occupations commonly derided as butchers and sawbones. So to hear the words hurled at me from my fiancé’s father was like a bucket of ice water being flung in my face. I flinched at the impact.

“Do not call her that,” Gage snarled.

“What? The truth?”

“She is my future wife. Your future daughter-in-law . . .”

“We’ll see about that.”

Gage appeared momentarily flummoxed by his father’s certainty, and then his complexion flushed bright red. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so furious. “There is no ‘we.’ I
am
marrying Kiera. I don’t care about any ridiculous rumors about her past. Regardless, if
someone
decides to dredge them up again . . .”

So he’d had the same suspicions about his father.

“I already know the truth. The rest is just nonsense.” He turned to take my hand. “Kiera is loyal, beautiful, intelligent, and talented. And perhaps the most perceptive person I’ve ever met. She’s become a gifted investigator in her own right.”

I felt a warm glow inside me hearing his praise, and I couldn’t help but smile even under the tense circumstances.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re marrying her. You can’t handle the inquiries on your own,” Lord Gage snarled.

I gasped at the nasty comment.

“Is that why you had her speak with Lady Kirkcowan against my wishes?”

Gage spoke slowly, biting out each word. “I had her speak to Lady Kirkcowan because I wanted a second opinion. As I said, she is very perceptive, and I wanted to be certain my suspicions were correct.”

“She’s guilty. I could
perceive
that in two seconds,” he scoffed.

“Guilty of what?” Gage argued, ignoring the barb. “You can’t steal your own jewels.”

“They aren’t her jewels. They all belong to her husband.”

“Who will only gamble them away,” I couldn’t resist interjecting.

“A point that could be argued,” Gage insisted. “For he gave them to her as gifts. When a gentleman gifts his mistress with jewelry, it’s hers to keep once she’s been given her
congé
.”

“Yes, but unlike his wife, a gentleman does not own his mistress.”

I stared at Lord Gage in astonishment. While everything he was saying was strictly true, to state it in such an arrogant, callous manner infuriated me. “Do you have no heart?” I demanded. “What is Lady Kirkcowan to do when her husband finally impoverishes her?”

“That is not our concern.” His eyes narrowed. “Just as the Drummonds are not yours.”

I glanced at Gage in surprise, wondering how he already knew.

“Oh, yes,” Lord Gage drawled. “I’ve already heard about your ridiculous accusations.”

“We’ve accused no one of anything,” Gage argued far more calmly then I could manage. “But what do you know of it?”

Lord Gage sat back, crossing one ankle over his other knee. “When I was leaving your lodging house, I happened upon Lord Drummond, who, you may not know, is an old friend of mine. We served together for five years as lieutenants on the same ship, and were both made
captains within six months of each other.” His gaze swung to mine. “So you can imagine how disturbed I was to discover my son’s . . . fiancée . . .” the word sounded distasteful on his lips “. . . had tried to convince him there was some sort of foul play involved in his wife’s death.”

“The circumstances surrounding Lady Drummond’s death
are
suspicious,” Gage defended me.

His lips curled into a sneer. “Why? Because the
perceptive
Lady Darby says they’re so? You are to stop this preposterous inquiry at once,” he ordered me. “Lord Drummond is a worthy, honorable man; a decorated war hero. You will not sully his reputation or distress him further by making these baseless allegations.”

“They aren’t baseless,” I argued. Gage pressed a restraining hand to my wrist, but I did not heed. “You friend is a brute. Lady Drummond was terrified of him.”

“Of course she was. She was his wife.”

My mouth dropped open in shock, and I felt Gage jolt beside me.

His father scowled at him. “Do not look at me like that. I rarely lifted a hand to your mother. I didn’t need to.” His eyes swiveled to me. “Lady Darby, on the other hand . . .”

Gage actually surged forward in his seat. “Do not even finish that sentence.”

For a moment I thought the two men were going to come to blows, but Lord Gage held his tongue, albeit begrudgingly from the way he glowered at his son. Gage slowly sat back just as the coach rolled to a stop in front of the Cromarty town house on Charlotte Square.

I felt nothing but relief to escape the confines of the carriage and the hostility between father and son. Perhaps I should have been concerned about the vitriol Lord Gage was certain to continue to pour in his son’s ears, but as irate as Gage was, I knew there was little chance of him heeding his father’s words. And while I was distressed by the extreme dislike Lord Gage had taken of me without even giving me a
chance to prove the rumors wrong, I was wise enough to understand when retreat was better than confrontation—for my own wounded self-esteem and for his heated temper.

I did not wish him a good evening. From the look on his face, I knew he didn’t want me to, so I happily obliged. Gage helped me out of the carriage and escorted me up the steps to the door.

“Kiera, I’m so sorry,” he leaned close to tell me.

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I should have at least prepared you. My father is a cold and difficult man when he is crossed.”

Figgins opened the door to admit us, but before he could take my shawl, Gage requested a moment of privacy. He nodded and disappeared toward the back of the town house.

“Did you know he was coming to Edinburgh?” I finally asked, as I’d wanted to since the moment Lord Gage appeared before me.

He sighed. “Not definitively. But I had my suspicions when I did not receive a reply from him after I wrote to announce our engagement,” he admitted. “I knew he would never let the matter rest. It’s simply not his way.”

So that was where Gage had gotten his hardened determination. In that, at least, he emulated his father.

“And Lady Willoughy de Eresby mentioned something about seeing him,” he added with a grimace.

“What did she wish to speak with you about?”

I could tell from his expression that he did not want to reply.

“She expressed much the same opinions of our engagement as my father.”

His words pinched me in my chest even though I knew it was silly of me to care what the fussy society matron thought. “Not surprising.”

“Yes, but of no consequence. And I told her so.” He leaned forward to press a warm kiss to my forehead just below my hairline. “Do not fret. Father will not prevail in this.”