I reached over to link my arm with his, sinking my head down on his shoulder.
“When I was no longer welcome at society’s best events, I started attending those that were more questionable. Which is how I fell in with Wilmot and his cronies.”
“Are they really so terrible?” I ventured.
“Yes. They’re scoundrels and reprobates. And I don’t want you to have anything to do with them.” He glared down at me until I agreed. “I pity this Miss Holt. Even if she’s as supercilious as Miss Witherington, she deserves a better husband.”
I smiled. “Ah, so you’ve noticed that as well?”
“How can one miss it? She clearly has a bee in her bonnet where it concerns you.” Then he muttered under his breath, “I seriously hope Andy has considered what he’s in for if he marries the chit.”
I squeezed his arm and he looked down at me.
“Do we understand each other now?”
I offered him a smile. “Yes.”
He nodded and turned to stare at my easel. “I have questions for you about your Mr. Gage. But I suspect you don’t wish to answer them now, do you?”
My cheeks began to heat at his description of Gage as “mine,” and I cursed my fair complexion for being such a telltale.
He only grinned at my discomfort. “We’ll save that for another time then. But don’t think I’ll overlook it forever.”
I scowled. “I know you won’t. Though, I admit, I was surprised you left us alone to question the villagers and the Nun.”
He shrugged. “How much trouble could he get you into on the way to St. Boswells and back?”
“We could have stopped at an inn,” I goaded him.
He arched his eyebrows in chastisement. “I already know you did. I was aware of the plan, remember. And our coachmen kept me abreast of your every movement.”
I shook my head. I should have suspected as much.
“Just doing my duty by you, my dear.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As we’d all slept late into the morning, Trevor, Gage, and I did not gather in the dining room until almost a quarter after noon. While the footman cleared away my remaining breakfast things, leaving the tea, at my request, Gage began to lay out all of the facts we had so far, which were disturbingly few.
“We know that on the night of Hogmanay a group of four men who spoke ‘oddly’ dug up the late Earl of Buchan’s body and stole his bones, leaving everything behind, save maybe a golden torc. In the process of exhuming Buchan’s body, it’s likely they were disturbed by the Dryburgh groundskeeper, whom they shot and killed to keep silent.”
“Very succinct,” Trevor quipped. “What of Kiera’s drawings?”
“Well, we knew that more traditional body snatchers have worked in the area before,” I interjected. “So these could be the same men working on their own, or under someone else’s direction.”
Gage nodded in agreement. “We also have that bundle of lady’s clothing we found in the Chapter House to consider. Though I can’t see how they fit in.”
I sat back to contemplate the matter, sipping from my cup of sweetened tea. I could make no sense of the clothes either.
Trevor tapped his fingers on the table and leaned forward. “And what of the connection with the body snatching of Sir Colum Casselbeck? Is it too early to have heard anything from your friend with the Edinburgh City Police?”
Gage crossed his arms over his chest. “I suspect it’ll be at least two more days before I receive word from him. He’ll need time to investigate. Depending on the families involved, these crimes may not have been reported.”
I groaned. “We’ve learned almost nothing new.”
“Patience,” Gage soothed. “Sometimes that’s the way investigations are. They’re not always solved in three or four days. Most of my inquiries last weeks or months. There’s no reason to become discouraged until we’ve exhausted all lines of inquiry.”
I inhaled deeply and nodded. He was right. There was no reason for me to become so frustrated. We would find Dodd’s killer and the late earl’s body. It just might take a little more time than I was accustomed to. As confusing as this inquiry was, it was infinitely preferable to my two previous investigations, the first being a race to prove my innocence and find a killer before he struck again, while the second had been to find a missing girl and prove my friend Will Dalmay was sane and not a murderer.
“Now, I suggest we start by searching other local graveyards to see if any other graves have been disturbed. Lord Buchan’s might not be the only one.”
I agreed, grateful to have something to do to distract me from more unpleasant thoughts.