Mortal Arts (A Lady Darby Mystery)

He did not scowl as I expected him to, but instead trailed his eyes over my figure where I lounged in the chair. “Maybe.”

 

 

I felt a lick of heat everywhere his gaze touched and had to fight the urge to lift my hand and cover my décolletage. Perhaps I had miscalculated. I now suspected I might actually feel more secure in my high-necked night rail and wrapper than the thin silk and rounded neckline of this gown, despite all the layers of undergarments.

 

I frowned, irritated that he had managed to make me question my composure while he didn’t even show a flicker of remorse for barging into my private chambers. “Did you stop to consider that you could have simply asked me to meet you? Perhaps somewhere a little less scandalous?”

 

He replied by asking me a question instead, one of his more annoying habits. “Would you have come?”

 

I answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

 

My reply seemed to catch him off guard. His body stiffened and his pale eyes widened. I watched him study me, trying to tell if this was some kind of trick. I thought he would have realized by now that I didn’t play such games. At least, not like other society ladies.

 

He moved forward and sat on the edge of the other wingback chair positioned beside mine before the fireplace. Leaning forward over his knees, he pressed his hands together and started to explain, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and Michael about my working for Dr. Sloane from the start. I should have trusted you to understand.” His eyes when they lifted to meet mine were heavy with regret.

 

“It’s all right,” I replied softly. As much as I’d wanted to hear his apology, I couldn’t allow him to bear the full weight of responsibility. “I know why you didn’t. And . . . I can’t really say you were entirely wrong.”

 

“You . . .” He halted in midsentence, as if he had trouble digesting my words. “You do?”

 

I nodded and turned to stare at the flames licking along a log of wood. “If you had been completely up-front about it with Michael, with William, with any of us, from the start, you would never have gotten to the truth. Michael has already been hiding evidence from us since the very beginning, and possibly only making things worse for his brother. And had I known about you and Dr. Sloane . . .” I sighed. “I can’t in all honesty say that I wouldn’t have kept things from you, too.”

 

I could feel Gage’s eyes quietly assessing me, but I didn’t have the courage to meet them.

 

“I can.”

 

I turned to him in surprise.

 

“If I’ve learned anything about you, Kiera, it’s that you’re not only extremely loyal, but also unfailingly honest.”

 

My conscience smarted at the thought of the lies of omission I’d made to Will earlier, as well as Lucy. “Not unfailingly.”

 

A small smile curled his lips. “All right. But I still know that, had I told you about my investigation for Dr. Sloane, you would have found a way to tell me all while still remaining loyal to Will.”

 

I did not argue, knowing that assertion was about to be tested.

 

He sat farther back in his chair, getting more comfortable. “Incidentally, what made you change your mind? About what I did?” he clarified. “Earlier you seemed angry enough to have me drawn and quartered. I came here expecting to grovel.”

 

“I suppose I spoke too soon, then. I would have liked to see that.”

 

He tilted his head, a teasing light entering his eyes. “I’m quite certain someday you’ll get another chance.”

 

Something inside me squeezed and then released at his flirtatious comment. “I realized I responded more heatedly than perhaps I should have,” I admitted, running a hand over the chocolate-brown twill of the chair arm. “That you were given little choice in the matter and you were only doing what you felt you had to.” I glanced up at him through my lashes. From his grim expression I could tell that the matter still did not sit well with him. Whatever else might be bothering Gage, it was clear he did not enjoy lying or spying on his friends. “One or two things did occur to me later, though.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Did Dr. Sloane tell you the name of this girl Will allegedly killed?” An image of the woman in that sketch, lying in Will’s lap, her hair trailing out behind her, flashed through my mind, but I pushed it aside.

 

Gage’s brow furrowed. “No. And I did ask. It bothered me at the time, but he told me that it was a very important person’s daughter. Supposedly this ‘very important person’ didn’t want word spreading about where his daughter had been.”

 

Huber, AnnaLee's books