“No!” she shrieked, jerking away from Gage. “Is that her? Is that Mary?”
I stepped in front of her, wrapping my hands around her upper arms to keep her from moving any closer to the corpse. Her expression was agonized and I could do nothing but tell her the truth. “Yes.”
Her head reared back and then she began to shake it in denial. “No.” She pushed against me, trying to move past, and I pressed back, forcing her to look me in the face.
“Yes,” I repeated gently.
Her bottom lip began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, dearest,” I crooned, not knowing what else to say.
She crumpled before my eyes and Gage was there to help me gather her into my arms, letting her sob wildly on my shoulder. He met my gaze over her head, telling me it was time for me to be on my way.
“Come away from here,” I told Miss Remmington and urged her back toward the horses.
“But . . . but I want to see her,” she choked out.
“No, you don’t,” I assured her, and that only made her cry harder.
Lord Damien stood in the middle of the path gazing helplessly at the girl in my arms.
“Gather the horses’ reins,” I told him. “All except Mr. Gage’s.”
He obeyed and followed us down the path through the forest back toward Dalmay House. I knew Miss Remmington was too upset to sit a horse, and I wanted the opportunity to think. I had underestimated Miss Remmington’s affection for Miss Wallace. Mary Wallace must have been quite a friend to make such a lasting impression on so short an acquaintance, for Miss Remmington did not strike me as overly sentimental.
I hoped Constable Paxton would see reason when Gage spoke with him, but I had a sinking feeling he would not. That Gage had been the first to examine the body would irritate him, and I could see him sticking to his theory that Miss Wallace had been carried away by the tide while trying to cross from Cramond Island just to spite him. Perhaps Mr. Wallace was the man we would have to reason with, though I hated to bother him when he had been dealt such a horrible blow. But surely he would want to know the truth about what had happened to his daughter.
In any case, sanctioned or not, I was not going to stop investigating, and I doubted Gage would be so easily deterred either. The location of Miss Wallace’s corpse suggested one of two things. Either Will had been responsible for her disappearance and death or someone was trying to make it look like he was. And I was not going anywhere until I had the truth, whatever that might be, and no matter how painful. If he was innocent, I owed it to Will. But even if he wasn’t, I now owed it to Miss Wallace and all of the people who had loved her to bring her killer to justice.
About halfway back to Dalmay House, Miss Remmington’s sobs lessened and she began to take herself more in hand. She still sniffled into her handkerchief, but she no longer openly wept. “I introduced her to Lord Dalmay,” she gasped between hiccups.
“I know.”
Her eyes widened. “You knew?”
I nodded, but decided not to reveal my source. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
She frowned, considering her answer. “Because Michael Dalmay seemed so eager to protect his brother. I thought that was what he wished me to do.”
“Because you were worried we would think Lord Dalmay’s acquaintance with her would make him a suspect in her disappearance,” I clarified.
Her face crumpled. “And now he’s killed her, and it’s my fault.”
“Now see here,” I told her sternly, not needing her to presume anything, “we don’t know anything for certain. Mr. Gage and I are investigating the matter, and we plan to get to the bottom of it.”
“But she was found on this beach.”
“And she could have been deposited there by any number of means.”
Miss Remmington’s expression was dubious.
“There are a lot of factors to this investigation you are not privy to. We need to be certain we have the right culprit before any accusations are made.” Her gaze was flat and unreadable, and that made me uneasy, which forced me to press her. “Will you give us a chance to conclude our investigation before you decide who murdered your friend? Can you do that?”
“But you do believe she was murdered?” she asked anxiously.
I hesitated, wondering if I should have left room for doubt. “Yes,” I replied, unable to lie to her.
She sighed. “I suppose that’s better than that stupid constable who believed she was swept out to sea.” She glanced back at me and nodded. “All right. But do it quickly.” Her hands tightened into fists. “I want the man to pay.”
I resisted the urge to nudge the autocratic girl into the patch of bramble bushes on the right side of the path, but only just barely.
*