“Yes. They’re quite close.” She tilted her head to the side in much too innocent a display. “Aren’t you acquainted with Lady Felicity?”
He did nothing but flick an annoyed glance at her, but it was still enough to make my stomach sour.
“Yes. We’ve been introduced.”
“Oh, there’s no need to be so circumspect,” she declared with a trill of laughter, before leaning forward. “I heard you danced with her twice at the Snowdon soiree and twice at the Cheltenhams’ Midsummer’s Eve Ball.”
“Did I? I can’t recall.” His tone of voice was perfectly neutral, but I knew better. If he was making such an effort to sound as if he were uninterested, then he was. But why?
However, Miss Witherington clearly did not know this about him, and disappointed with his answer, her mouth puckered into an insipid pout.
“Have your friend, Miss Holt, and Lord Wilmot set a date?” Aunt Sarah asked, stepping in once more to redirect the conversation.
I knew Miss Witherington did not like me—she had made that abundantly clear—and so she was only trying to upset me by mentioning the more socially acceptable ladies of Gage’s acquaintance. A fact she needn’t have pointed out. I was well aware how popular Gage was among good society, and how far below him in estimation I was, at least in that regard.
As the only son of a newly minted baron and a baronet’s widow, we might have been equal in rank, but not in wealth or standing. On his father’s death, Gage would inherit a title and estates worth several hundred thousand pounds, while I was an artist with barely two thousand pounds to my name. I would bring almost nothing to an alliance, but a soiled reputation.
Miss Witherington’s dart had certainly found its mark by making me recall this truth at a time I would have preferred not to, even though it was not something I was likely to forget for long.
Though what was most unnerving was Gage’s reaction—his determined indifference. Why had he felt the need to appear uncaring? Was it simply an effort to discourage Miss Witherington’s questions? Or was there something more to his relationship with Lady Felicity? Something he didn’t want explored?
I stirred the beans around my plate, trying to convince my now disinterested stomach to take a bite.
“Trevor, aren’t you acquainted wi’ Lord Wilmot?” Jock leaned forward to ask my brother.
Trevor stiffened, seeming startled by the question. “Uh . . . yes.”
“Ye should invite him doon to Blakelaw,” Jock continued on, oblivious to the quelling look my brother sent him. “I hear he’s a capital fellow. Great fun.”
Trevor’s eyes darted to me and then away. “Perhaps another time. Now isn’t really the best.”
Jock nodded, speaking around a bite of bread. “Right. Wi’ the murder and missing bodies and all.”
But I knew that was not what Trevor had been referring to. I set my fork down by my plate, unable to stomach even the thought of another bite.
I had known my brother’s reputation had not been helped by his relation to me, but I had never suspected he was embarrassed. I had never really given much thought to any of the hardships my brother might have suffered because of me. Perhaps that was unworthy of me—being so wrapped up in my own worries and self-pity—but that didn’t blunt the sting it caused to think that my brother was too ashamed to invite his friends to visit while I was present.
After the investigation was finished and Alana’s baby was born, maybe I should consider finding a little cottage of my own. I would be able to afford one with the money I’d saved from the sales of my artwork. If I lived modestly in a home near London or Edinburgh, I should be able to live off the proceeds from my portrait commissions. I would visit my sister and my brother, but neither would be burdened with the obligation of supporting me.
It would be somewhat lonely living on my own, but perhaps that was for the best. I would have quiet and solitude, and company only when I wished it. And Alana and Trevor would be free to live their own lives again without worrying over me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We did not return to Blakelaw House that night until nearly midnight. It had been a somewhat tedious carriage ride home as both men had dozed in their respective corners while I sat rehashing the case, and the lack of progress we’d made. After such a long day I should have been worn out, but I was not.
I thought to ask my brother if I could speak with him, but before I had even finished removing my outer garments, he’d declared himself exhausted and wished Gage and I a good night. I watched him climb the stairs, wondering if I should insist, but his steps did seem incredibly weary. Perhaps it would be best to wait.
Gage halted in his ascent and turned toward me. “Aren’t you retiring?”