The man’s chest puffed out like an angry robin and his eyes bulged so large I worried they might pop out of his head. “The man is no’ a peer.”
“Oh, but he is,” Gage replied silkily. “So unless you have a warrant—which I know you do not, because no magistrate would ever dare to issue one on such flimsy evidence, especially for a peer—then you haven’t the right to even threaten to arrest him.”
He turned to the two men Mr. Paxton had brought with him, who seemed content to merely observe the proceedings. I suspected they were simple villagers, maybe retired soldiers, who were only doing as the constable had asked of them.
“I suggest if you don’t wish to be brought up on charges of unlawfully detaining a peer along with Mr. Paxton here that you return home.”
The men looked at each other and one shrugged, as if to say this wasn’t his matter. Then they slowly began to turn away.
Seeing that his reinforcements were abandoning him, the constable snarled. “This isna over. I’ll be reportin’ you all to my superior.”
“You do that,” Gage replied without concern. Then in one smooth motion he released Mr. Paxton’s horse and stepped far back from the man and the horse’s reach.
With one last furious glare at all of us, he pulled his horse around, its hooves scrabbling for purchase in the loose gravel, and rode down the drive after his men.
Gage and the others watched to make sure the constable didn’t return or veer off the lane and attempt to approach the house from another path.
“Damn the man!” Michael exclaimed.
Gage reached over to clasp him on the shoulder, guiding him toward the door. “I’m afraid your efforts to keep hidden your brother’s whereabouts for the last decade have all been for naught. Paxton is going to tell every man he knows and then some.”
Michael nodded dejectedly and turned to Lord Keswick, who was trying to apologize for his sister’s actions.
“Why didn’t you remind me about the rules of privilege?” I demanded of Gage, linking my arm through his as he passed by me into the warmth of the entry hall. “Had I remembered, it would have made this confrontation much less anxiety ridden. I couldn’t figure out how you were going to thwart Mr. Paxton.”
He offered me an enigmatic smile. “What? And ruin the excitement?”
I arched a single eyebrow in chastisement. “So if we discover that Will is guilty of murdering Miss Wallace, he will be tried before the House of Lords, not the criminal courts?” I asked in clarification.
“That is correct. But in his instance, it’s far more likely he would receive a hearing before the Court of Chancery first to decide if he’s insane. If he was found to be, then he and his property would be placed in the custody of the king, and he would be detained in an asylum of the Lord Chancellor’s choosing.”
“Does the Lord Chancellor allow the family members any say?”
Sensing my concern, Gage pressed his hand over mine where it rested on his arm. “He might. But even if he doesn’t, there’s no cause for alarm. The Lord Chancellor would never choose a place like the Larkspur Retreat.”
“So, effectively, if Dr. Sloane were still trying to get William back, he’s now lost all ability to do so.”
Gage stopped to look at me as if I’d just said something important.
“William’s stay in a lunatic asylum is no longer a secret, so should he prove to be innocent but still require more care than Michael can give him, Michael can search wherever he likes for another place to take his brother,” I elaborated. I doubted Michael would ever do such a thing, but should he have to, there were no more concerns over secrecy.
Gage pressed a hand to his head. “Bloody hell! Why didn’t I see this before?”
I widened my eyes in alarm. “See what?”
He paced away from me a few steps and back again. “Dr. Sloane. He’s been truly manipulating us all.”
“What?”
He stood staring down at his feet for a moment, almost in awe.
“What do you mean he’s been manipulating us?” I demanded.
Gage’s eyes turned hard and he shook his head. “The bloody bastard.”
“Gage,” I exclaimed, growing agitated.
He glanced up at me. “I’ll explain. But first . . . Michael,” he called across the room to where Michael was deep in conversation with Keswick. Michael looked up in question. “Do you want to help prove your brother is innocent?”
He straightened. “Of course.”
“And you, Keswick?”
He murmured his assent.
“Keswick, take a pair of footmen with you to Banbogle Castle. Check to see if there’s a boat stored there, and if there is, send word back, but don’t let it out of your sight.”
“What is this all about?” Michael asked as Keswick departed. He looked as bewildered and exasperated as I felt.
“I’ll explain. But I need you to make sure Donovan is not in your brother’s chambers.”
“Donovan?”