I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. When I was finally able to speak, it was in a hard voice. “You think Will is unsafe.”
“Kiera,” he murmured in a placating voice. He reached out to cup my elbow, but I shifted out of his reach. He scowled. “I honestly don’t know what to think about him. But I know that I don’t feel comfortable with you spending time alone with him.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Has Mr. Gage spoken with you?”
Philip’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “About your safety?”
I stifled a curse, wondering how he’d gotten to Philip before me. Had he knocked on his door in the middle of the night? “I told him to stay out of this,” I snapped.
“Yes, I heard you quite clearly in the Dalmays’ drawing room,” my brother-in-law told me almost in scolding.
I blinked up at him in confusion, trying to understand why he was talking about the confrontation in the drawing room.
His gaze sharpened as I realized Gage had not discussed me with him yet. “Unless you spoke with him another time.”
“Of course not,” I replied quickly. I wasn’t about to admit the man had visited me in my room later that night. Who knew how Philip would react? In his current state of mind, he might just do something foolish. Like call his friend out. Or, perhaps worse, insist Gage do the honorable thing and marry me—an outcome I couldn’t even fathom.
“His behavior yesterday evening just proves that he has taken the same overprotective stance that you seem to have adopted,” I rushed on to say before he could question me further. “Do I need to keep repeating myself? Will would never hurt me.”
Philip stiffened, straightening to his greatest height, and I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch just like it did when he was refraining from saying something to my sister he knew he would regret later. I had never seen him do it while facing me before, but then, Philip and I seldom argued. “I don’t care if you believe I’m being overprotective.” He spoke carefully, enunciating his words. “But the fact is that while you are a part of my household, I am responsible for you. I am not going to just turn my head in the other direction and allow you to do whatever you please, particularly if your actions are so foolish as to threaten your safety in any way.”
Something in my chest pinched at his words. I had always felt that Philip and I understood each other, and to hear him speak to me as if I was just another silly, irrational female hurt more than I would have admitted. “If you felt me to be so lacking in sense, I wish you would have told me before,” I replied in a clipped voice. “I assumed you valued my intelligence. After all, you were the one who asked me to assist Gage with the murder investigation at Gairloch.” An undertaking that had certainly threatened my safety. I had a scar on my side from a grazing bullet to prove it.
Philip’s brow furrowed in distress and I instantly felt contrite for even bringing up the matter of my near death. I turned to stare out at the water, hugging my arms tighter to my chest. What was wrong with me? First I threw the shooting in Gage’s face and then my brother-in-law’s. I had never been one to go about deliberately hurting others before.
“Kiera,” Philip murmured, stepping closer. He waited until I looked up at him to continue speaking. “I do value your intelligence. You know that.”
My gaze dropped to the collar of his black greatcoat. I nodded.
“And you know I regret that you were harmed during Lady Godwin’s murder investigation. Sometimes I feel like I should regret ever having asked you to take part in it.” I opened my mouth to object, but he raised his hand to halt my words. “But I don’t,” he admitted.
I searched his gaze, trying to understand what he was telling me.
“I know that had you not taken part in that investigation, we may never have caught the real culprit, and several more people might have lost their lives.”
I felt a surge of pride at his admission. After the removal of everyone from Gairloch Castle, we had avoided any discussion of the events of those dark days. I had no wish to relive those memories—well, most of them—more because of the pain and anger they caused me than any prolonged trauma or regret. But I had never stopped to consider why my sister and brother-in-law refrained from mentioning them. Was it possible that Philip, like Gage, had been feeling real guilt for what had happened to me?
“Perhaps that makes me a horrible man . . .”
“No,” I said, reaching out to take hold of Philip’s hand. I shook my head. “You are not going to take responsibility for the injuries done to me,” I told him firmly. “And if you are going to insist on trying to, then you are also going to have to take responsibility for all the good that came of it.”