“Yes, but when he’s like this he’s very docile.” He turned his face to the side, showing us his profile. “As long as you don’t try to stop him from doing what he wants to do.”
A quiver of alarm stirred in my gut, but I refused to heed it. Will had been my champion and confidant. He had believed in me when everyone around me was disparaging my talent. My mother dead, and all but forgotten by my sister and brother, who were off in London and Cambridge, I was left floundering after enduring months of belittlement at the hands of my drawing master, Signor Riotta. When he abruptly quit and Father complained about the time and expense it would take to lure another art instructor to the relative wilderness of Northumberland, I had almost told him not to bother. Then Will had taken me under his wing. He had taken one look at my sketchbook and cursed Signor Riotta roundly for a fool.
Without Will’s confidence and guidance I might never have found peace with my talent. I remembered well the turmoil of my early adolescence—the frustration and inadequacy, the raging emotions. Will had helped me to channel it into my artwork, to embrace my gifts instead of deny them. I owed him much.
And because of that, I couldn’t allow a little fear to persuade me to turn my back on him now. Not when the very least I could do was visit him in his chamber.
Unfortunately Gage seemed hell-bent on preventing it. “Then it’s not safe. What if we startle him? Who knows what the man is capable of when he’s out of his head?”
“He’s never truly harmed anyone,” Michael argued.
“That doesn’t mean he won’t.” The fact that Gage sounded genuinely distressed did nothing to cool my anger at his interference. “Cromarty, I have seen unwell men wring the life out of another human being while in the throes of a mania.”
Philip frowned, and I knew he was considering Gage’s words. There was enough truth to them to give anyone pause. But I could not let Gage keep me from Will, whatever his motivations were for doing so.
“Will would never hurt me,” I insisted, scowling at him. “Never.” I turned to Michael for his corroboration but his eyes said that he was not as certain of such a thing as I. A knot of fear lodged in my throat.
“He may not be able to comprehend who you are,” Gage answered, his gaze far too compassionate for my liking.
“Well, what is he at his worst?” I knew I surprised the men by asking, particularly Michael, whose face visibly paled. “Does he attack anyone when he’s lost in his head? Has he ever been in the grips of a . . . mania?” I had difficulty repeating the word. “Has he become violent?”
“Not in many months,” he admitted. “And even then, he would only fight you if he thought you were going to confine him or dose him with medicine he didn’t want, and then just until he made his escape. He’s far more likely to be so engrossed in his thoughts he won’t even know we’re there.”
“Then I don’t see what we have to fear,” I stated defiantly. And then, before Gage could voice the objection forming on his lips, I rushed on to say, “Besides, with the three of you gentlemen there with me, should something go wrong, I’m certain you could protect me.” It was a challenge, and perhaps one made in poor taste, but I was not about to let Gage’s fears, well-founded or not, stop me from seeing Will.
Gage’s eyes narrowed and, knowing he could no longer appeal to my good sense, he turned back to Philip. “Cromarty, this is a bad idea. There is far more at stake here than physical danger from a man in the grip of a mania.”
I glared at Philip while he thought over Gage’s words, daring him to deny me this. He seemed torn between Gage’s appeal for my safety and the emotions he must have sensed in me. I wanted to curse Gage, knowing that his display of protectiveness had probably brought back memories of my being shot and nearly drowned in the loch next to Gairloch Castle not so many months ago.
I didn’t understand Gage. Was his conscience troubling him that his stubborn refusal to listen to my doubts regarding the initial findings of our investigation had almost cost me my life, and he wasn’t about to see me in harm’s way again? Or was there something else, something specific about Will?
He was an enigma. One sent to torment me. For all that seemed to lie between us was unanswered questions, unspoken words. That silence was filled with so much noise it was deafening.
Philip leaned toward Michael. “You believe Kiera will be safe?”
“I would not have thought to take her to him had I not.”
Philip rubbed the stubble just beginning to show along his jaw and nodded.