“What happened?” I demanded.
He pulled away from me and I let him. “You know what happened.”
“I told you . . .”
“Yes. I know,” he snapped. “But you should see them. They look worse off than I do.”
I glared at him. Somehow I doubted that.
“Are you injured anywhere else?”
“Nowhere you need be concerned with.”
“Gage!”
“Just a bruise on my shin and another on my shoulder. And these.” He stripped off his gloves to show me his battered and scraped knuckles.
I was happy to see that Bonnie Brock and his associates hadn’t gotten away without receiving at least a few blows in return.
I turned to stare out the window, fighting the twin urges to punch the man myself and also throw myself into his arms and beg him never to take such a risk again. No one needed to remind me that he was lucky to have emerged from the fight without more serious wounds. Bonnie Brock could have pulled a knife or a pistol. Gage could have bled out on a cold Edinburgh street.
I shook the terrifying thought aside and concentrated instead on how furious I was with him for not listening to me. The fact that he would not have been walking home alone down the deserted street after midnight if I had not run straight to him after hearing Bonnie Brock’s threat also helped to stoke my rage. I couldn’t help but feel I had played straight into the scoundrel’s hands.
The remainder of the ride to Musselburgh was spent in tense silence, neither of us willing to break the angry standoff. By the time we pulled up to the Casselbecks’ manor house along the banks of the River Esk, I was in such a foul mood that I found it difficult to be polite to the servants. All my smiles and comments felt forced and fraudulent, particularly next to Gage’s easy charm. But then he also had to endure their openmouthed stares at his black eye. Next to that, I suspected they barely noticed me.
“My goodness, Mr. Gage,” Sir Robert gasped when he came forward to greet us. “What happened?”
“Just a minor altercation.” Gage’s posture was stiff, not inviting comment.
“He walked into a door,” I supplied, I thought, rather helpfully.
He turned to glare at me. I ignored him in favor of offering Sir Robert my hand, which he politely took, though it was clear he was baffled by our exchange.
“Lady Darby, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured, bowing over it.
“Likewise.”
He gestured us toward a grouping of furniture near the fireplace, choosing an orange and brown checked wingback chair for himself. I allowed Gage to sit in the other chair while I perched on the end of the silk brocade settee closest to the hearth. The wind had been bitterly cold again this morning, and the grass and rooftops were dusted with a light covering of snow that had fallen sometime near dawn.
“I understand you’ve uncovered more information about the theft of my father’s bones,” Sir Robert said, crossing one long leg over the other. His dark hair was liberally sprinkled with silver at the temples, giving him a rather distinguished look.
“Yes,” Gage replied, and proceeded to explain about the other body snatchings and our suspicions that they were all connected in some way, or at least committed by the same criminals. Sir Robert listened silently, and though his eyes widened several times, other than that there was no discernible reaction.
When Gage had finished, he clasped his hands before him. “I’m acquainted with Mr. Tyler and Lord Buchan. What can I do to help?”
Exactly what we’d hoped to hear.
“Are you aware of any connections between your father, the late earl, and Ian Tyler, other than the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland? We’ve been informed they were all founding members.”
Sir Robert’s eyes rose to the ceiling, seeming to consider the matter.
“Anything at all,” Gage prodded. “Even something that might seem small and inconsequential.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sure they knew each other, though I wouldn’t have called them close friends.” He tipped his head to the side. “Several of them were writers, usually something to do with Scotland. Perhaps they researched or published something together.”
Gage nodded. “That’s certainly worth looking into.”
“Do you think there will be more thefts?”
He glanced at me, a frustrated look in his eye. “I don’t know. But I worry there may.”
I hadn’t heard him state it so baldly before, and it made my stomach tighten with dread.
“Terrible,” Sir Robert muttered, a crease forming between his eyes. “What is our society coming to?”
None of us had a good reply to that.
Gage shifted in his seat. “Can you tell me, have you received a visit from a Mr. Lewis Collingwood recently? Perhaps in the last six months.”
“No.” Sir Robert tapped his fingers. “But I did receive a letter from him.”