I understood then. “Neither of you slept much last night.”
Philip sighed wearily and stopped walking and turned toward the sea. “No. I knew we should have brought the children into our room after everything that Dalmay revealed, but I let Alana convince us it would be all right. I don’t think she rested for more than a quarter of an hour at a time. She couldn’t stop thinking of the murders at Gairloch and fretting for the children’s safety.”
“But this isn’t like what happened at Gairloch.”
“I know. But you know your sister isn’t always reasonable when it comes to the children. She locked herself in the nursery with them, remember, swearing she wouldn’t emerge until the murderer was caught. I can’t risk her attempting something similar here.” His face firmed with resolve. “It would be best simply to remove them to Edinburgh. She can settle herself at the town house, and the physician who was recommended to us can examine her.”
I knew he was right. Alana’s health had suffered on our journey, and I knew the last thing she needed was to worry over her children. I couldn’t even blame her for feeling that way. As much as I believed Will to be harmless, I still felt a sliver of doubt. A sliver that had been there even before Gage had expressed his concerns in the middle of the night, though I had tried to deny it. I could not ask my sister to put up with that uncertainty, especially when it wasn’t necessary for her even to be here.
I hunched my shoulders against the chill wind and watched a small boat bob across the water toward the tiny island. “What will you tell your aunt?”
“I don’t know. Michael did withhold information from Caroline and her family.” I opened my mouth to argue and Philip held up his hand to ward off my protest. “Perhaps it wasn’t their right to know about William while they were courting, but he certainly should have informed Caroline and her oldest brother, James, about him when he asked for her hand.”
I frowned at the frothy whitecaps racing toward the beach like pale horses. Philip was right. Michael had misled Caroline and her family, and no matter his intentions in doing so, it had been wrong. Sir Anthony had done the same thing to me and my father, though his reasons for doing so had been infinitely less honorable, and his purpose far more nefarious. Had we known that my future husband was marrying me so that he could force me to illustrate the anatomy textbook he was writing, saving the money it would cost to hire an artist and keeping the credit for himself, my father and I would never have agreed to the match. In truth, my father would likely have blackened Sir Anthony’s name.
But his deception had not come to light prior to the ceremony, and I had said my vows, and entered my new husband’s household, ignorant of what he had planned for me. That I hadn’t revealed the truth to anyone while Sir Anthony lived had been my choice. Fear and shame and despair had ensured my silence as much as my husband’s threats.
However, Michael’s deception had been quite different from Sir Anthony’s. While still poorly handled, at least Michael’s dishonesty had been well-intentioned. Sir Anthony’s had been purely self-serving. And at least Michael had had the decency to reveal the truth about his brother long before the wedding vows were spoken.
“In any case,” Philip continued, unaware of my unsettled thoughts, “I’m not going to try to convince her to stay here, even if I thought that were possible. It just doesn’t seem right for me to insist that Aunt Jane and Caroline remain here when I’m removing my own family.”
“Does that mean you think Caroline shouldn’t marry Michael?” I asked in distress.
He frowned, looking down at the crumbled leaves at his feet. “No. It’s obvious they care for each other. And I don’t know that you could find two finer people. But this problem with William . . .” He inhaled deeply and shook his head once. “It’s not going to be smoothed over with just a heartfelt apology.”
“Because Caroline won’t be made a baroness after all,” I guessed, knowing that Michael’s dishonesty was not the insurmountable issue. “Unless, of course, William eventually dies without issue.”
“Yes, that, and William’s mental state.”
Surprised by his answer, I turned to face him. “But surely it’s obvious that his problems do not stem from a feeble family line. None of his ancestors were mad. And his current mental weakness can clearly be traced to the strains of war and his time spent in that asylum.”
“It’s probable that you are correct, but Aunt Jane won’t see it that way. And I’m not certain I can either.”