I glared up at him, infuriated with his interference. So be it. I would just have to make sure I spoke with Philip first and warned him of Gage’s buffle-headed nonsense.
I wrenched open the door and nodded with my head, telling him to leave. Now.
He dipped his own head sharply once and strode out the door.
I would have liked to slam it, but, mindful of my sister and her husband sleeping in the chamber across the hall, I eased it shut and turned the key in the lock with a pointed click.
CHAPTER TEN
I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning and trying fruitlessly to pull my mind away from thoughts of Will and Gage. But the harder I tried, the more stubborn their faces became fixed in my mind and the more incessant their voices became.
So, frustrated and weary, I welcomed the first light of dawn as it seeped across the sky in shades of yellow and then pink. It seemed doubtful by that point that sleep would ever find me, so I bathed my face in the chill water left on my washstand and dressed in a simple morning gown and pelisse. Then, eager to escape the house, I slipped out of my room, in hopes the brisk morning air would clear my head.
Philip stepped out of the room across the hall just as I was closing the door to mine. Taking in my warm Venetian blue walking ensemble, he smiled. “It seems we’ve had the same idea.” He spoke in a soft voice, presumably so as not to wake Alana.
I smiled sympathetically in return. Judging from the dark smudges under Philip’s eyes, I wasn’t the only one who’d passed a restless night.
“Would you care if I joined you?” he asked, running his fingers around the brim of the hat in his hands.
“I’d like that,” I replied, realizing it would give me the perfect opportunity to speak with him in private before Gage could. “But . . .” I glanced down the hall “. . . weren’t you going to speak with Lady Hollingsworth this morning before she leaves?”
“No worries.” His eyes twinkled. “Aunt Jane was never one to rise before midmorning, even when facing the most harrowing of crises.” He came forward to take my arm and lead me down the hall. “Caroline told Alana that when her eldest brother’s wife went into labor in the middle of the night, her mother called it the height of rudeness.”
I stifled a gasp of horrified laughter.
“Luckily for Aunt Jane’s new grandson, he didn’t decide to make his actual entry into the world until almost noon the next day; otherwise I’m certain he would never hear the end of it. In any case, in the event that she should take it upon herself to rise earlier than expected, I still estimate that will be a good two to three hours from now. And I’ve left a note requesting an interview and more or less ordering her to stay put until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
I smiled, imagining how Lady Hollingsworth would take such a dictate from her nephew, even though I was certain Philip had couched it in the gentlest of terms.
We exited through a door on the north side of the manor and turned east toward the firth. Philip guided us down a well-worn path that led away from the house and underneath the towering trees of the wood. The air was crisp and ripe with the damp of early morning dew and the musk of decaying leaves. I inhaled deeply, welcoming the cold air into my lungs.
The path widened as we exited the canopy of trees and approached the water. A solid block of craggy stone rose before us to pierce the crystalline blue sky.
“Banbogle Castle,” Philip explained when I turned to him curiously. “The Dalmays’ old stronghold.”
“Now I understand why Michael and William’s father felt the need to build Dalmay House,” I admitted, staring up at the decaying tower. Banbogle Castle must have been falling down around their heads.
Moss and lichen clung to the cracks in the pale stone and grime coated the windows that were not broken and exposing the interior to the elements. Though the gaping hole in the western wall would undoubtedly have been more troublesome to its inhabitants. Elsewhere, the stonework had steadily begun to crumble away to reveal the interior layers of masonry, giving the outside a jagged, uneven appearance. Some spots looked so worn that they were, undoubtedly, a mere layer or two away from creating additional gaps in the exterior.
“And not a moment too soon,” Philip said. “Barely a month after Lord Dalmay moved his family to Swinton Lodge, while work began on the new manor house . . .” he nodded to the yawning gap “. . . that wall caved in on the nursery.”
I gasped, unable to find words adequate enough to describe the horror of such an occurrence had any of the Dalmay children or their nursemaids been inside at the time.