Michael dropped back into his chair and stared forlornly at the door. Seeing him like this, I wanted to do nothing more than run after Lady Hollingsworth and shake some sense into her. Couldn’t she see what a good man Michael Dalmay was? What tough decisions he’d been forced to make? Couldn’t she see how much he cared for her daughter?
But for all the displeasure I felt at the marchioness, I knew she was right to question Michael’s behavior. He hadn’t been completely honest. And, regardless of his reasons for doing so, and whether his intentions had been good, she wouldn’t have been looking after her daughter if she did not at least call him to task for it. Her ending of their engagement had been a bit precipitous, but perhaps she could be made to see reason in the morning.
The others seemed to be of the same mind-set.
“Take heart, old boy,” Keswick told his brother-in-law, clapping him on the shoulder as he slumped forward. “I predict cooler heads will prevail tomorrow.”
Michael nodded absently, his elbows braced on his knees.
“Keswick’s right,” Philip said. “We may yet be able to resolve this matter to everyone’s satisfaction or at least give you some more time to prove your brother is stable. But not tonight.”
Michael lifted his head. “I’m sorry, Cromarty. I didn’t think. I should have realized you’d be alarmed to hear your children were sharing the same floor with my brother.”
I glanced at my sister, whose complexion was paler than normal. I couldn’t tell whether that was due to her recent illness or worry over her children. Either way, it was impossible not to think of the manner in which she had reacted to the news of the murders two months past, locking herself in Gairloch’s nursery with her three children.
“But, I promise you, they are safe,” he vowed to Alana, clearly realizing she was the one he needed to convince of his sincerity. “I would never allow them to come to harm. But if you would like to have them moved, to the room next to yours or somewhere here on the ground floor, I will do whatever you feel is necessary.”
Alana looked up at her husband, who was waiting for her to decide what should be done. She smoothed her hands over the creamy satin of her skirts. “I know you would never place our children in danger.” Her gaze flitted toward Laura and Keswick. “And if little Nicolas is safe in the nursery, I’m sure our children are as well.”
“You’re certain?” Michael pressed, anxiety stretching his voice. “I do not want you to worry.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled before offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m certain.”
Michael nodded.
“We’re going up to say good night to Nicolas,” Laura said. “Would you like to join us?”
Alana perked up. “Yes. Yes, I would.”
“Go on,” Philip told her when she turned to him. His eyes warmed with affection. “I’ll be up shortly.”
“Come along, Elise,” Keswick told his sister as they passed by her chair.
Miss Remmington, who had been listening to us quietly, with a far more earnest expression on her face than I had yet to witness, glanced up at her brother. “Oh, I’m wide awake,” she replied, doing a marvelous job of masking whatever concern she felt. “I believe I’ll stay up a bit longer.”
“Then you can read in your room.”
Miss Remmington blinked up at him through her eyelashes and her lips formed into a pretty pout—an expression that was certain to have any number of men eating out of her hand. Unfortunately for her, it had no effect on her brother.
“Now, Elise!”
“You’re so stodgy.” She flounced out of the room after her brother.
Philip shook his head. “Thank goodness I never had any sisters.”
“Thank goodness mine was well behaved,” Michael muttered in commiseration.
Philip shifted off the arm of the settee to sit beside me. “Are ye well?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows in query.
“Yes.”
His eyes remained locked with mine for a moment longer, as if assuring I spoke the truth, and then he nodded in satisfaction. “So, Dalmay. Now that the others are gone, give us the truth. How is he really?” He frowned. “And what about this missing girl? Are ye acquainted?” I could hear his brogue slipping now that most of the house had retired and the fatigue of the day was setting in. Philip could speak as well as any English-bred gentleman when he chose to, but the truth of his Highland roots was never far away, especially when he let his guard down.
Michael passed a hand over his face. “I was honest before. Will has his good days and his bad. And, at this stage, they are more often good.” He sighed and settled back in his chair. “As for the girl, her name is Mary Wallace. I’m acquainted with her father—a respectable, generally good-natured fellow. He owns a small estate south of Cramond. I met his daughter once . . . Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he snapped, turning to glare at his friend still lounging against the fireplace mantel. “Sit down, Gage. I will not keep craning my neck to include you in the conversation.”