He cleared his throat again. “Quite.”
“Well . . .” I glanced at Trevor but, upon seeing his stony expression, decided it would be best to avoid his gaze. “If one of the graves at Dryburgh Abbey has been disturbed, then someone must have been digging there. And doing so at night on the grounds of a deserted abbey, with only the light of a lantern to guide them, certainly suggests a desire for secrecy.”
My uncle nodded, following my train of thought.
I turned to pace the small space in front of the door. “If Dodd surprised them and they wished to remain undiscovered, they might have shot him. That seems a logical enough explanation to me. At least, the most logical we have so far.” I frowned. “But why was someone digging in an old grave to begin with? What were they looking for?”
I glanced at Lord Buchan, but he merely shrugged. “Most of those graves belong to old monks, local commoners, and a few members of my family. But as I said, the most recent burial was almost twenty months ago.”
I furrowed my brow and resumed pacing. When several moments passed without anyone offering an explanation, I wondered aloud, “I suppose the body snatchers could have just been incredibly stupid and unaware that a body that long buried would be far too decayed to be of use to a medical college.”
Trevor’s mouth twisted in skepticism. “I have a hard time believing anyone is that ignorant. Especially if body snatching is your chosen trade, so to speak.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to face them. “I agree. It’s far more likely they were looking for objects buried with the bodies—clothing, jewelry, what have you.” Seeing the distressed expression on Lord Buchan’s face, I added, “But there’s really no way of knowing until you find out which grave was disturbed and examine it to see if anything was taken.”
Uncle Andrew nodded in agreement.
I noticed he didn’t correct me. It would be they who examined the grave, not I. But absurdly, I had been hoping against hope that I was wrong. That he would insist I come along.
My uncle leaned in to confer with Lord Buchan, and I stifled a sigh and resumed my perusal of the landscape. It really was an incredibly dull and uninspiring piece.
Trevor shifted closer to me. “Perhaps we should return to the ballroom.”
I glanced up at him, wondering if I could, or even should, try to stall him.
He arched an eyebrow in sarcasm. “Don’t tell me you’re actually interested in that landscape. I don’t have nearly your artist’s eye, and I can still see that it’s dreadful.”
I couldn’t stop a smile from quirking my lips. “Hush. I think one of Uncle Andrew’s relatives may have painted it.” I darted a look over my shoulder to see the other two men still deep in conversation.
“Well, someone should have done us all a favor and kept the paintbrush out of his fingers,” he drawled.
“How do you know it wasn’t a woman?”
“Her fingers, then. Now come,” he urged, cupping my elbow.
I knew there was no use arguing, yet still I found it hard to comply.
But before we could move more than two steps toward the door, a footman from Uncle Andrew’s staff rapped softly on the door before opening it.
“I’m sorry, m’lord. But Dr. Carputhers appears to be a bit . . . indisposed,” he said, choosing his words carefully.
Uncle Andrew frowned. “How indisposed?”
The footman cleared his throat. “Very.” And as his employer was waiting for a more specific response, he added, “He’s drunk as a wheelbarrow.”
Uncle Andrew sighed heavily. “Well, we did invite him to a ceilidh. The man wouldn’t expect to be on duty.”
He dismissed the footman with a wave of his hand and began to pace, rubbing his pointed chin. Meanwhile, Trevor tugged on my arm, urging me to return to the ball. I hesitated a moment longer, wondering if I should offer to help, but my brother glared down at me, seeming insistent that I not say a word. So I gave in, allowing him to pull me toward the door.
“Just a moment, Trevor,” our uncle called out behind us.
My brother glanced at me, and I tried to keep any of the anticipation I felt from showing on my face, but I must have failed, for he lifted his eyebrows in gentle reproach. “Yes, Uncle,” he replied, turning us toward him.