Mortal Arts (A Lady Darby Mystery)

His face was blank, clearly not understanding what I meant.

 

I turned away, knowing it would be easier to find the words if I wasn’t looking at him. “I . . . was hiding, Philip,” I began hesitantly. “We all know it. And the investigation forced me to move beyond that. To exert myself in ways I hadn’t been. Not for many months. Not since . . .” I let my words trail away, knowing he understood. I took a deep breath to continue. “In a way, that investigation gave me a second chance to fight for myself again.” I shook my head. “I never got to do that in London, after Sir Anthony’s death, after those charges were brought against me. I was too beaten and scared to even try.”

 

I risked a glance at Philip and saw the memory of the fragile, broken creature I had been when I first came to live with his family eighteen months ago reflected in his eyes.

 

I smiled sadly. “Lady Godwin’s murder investigation gave me the chance to finally step forward and defend myself against the accusations made against me. To defy society’s small-mindedness. And most importantly it proved to me that I was strong enough to survive this. That maybe I didn’t have to spend the rest of my life hidden in the shadows.” I squeezed his hand. “And none of that would have happened if you hadn’t believed me capable enough to assist Mr. Gage. Despite his protestations to the contrary,” I added at the last.

 

We shared a look of wry amusement.

 

“He was rather irritated with me for that at first,” he admitted.

 

I scoffed. “Not nearly as irritated as he was with me. I had to work alongside the man, after all, and I was initially his chief suspect.”

 

“But that didn’t last long,” Philip pointed out.

 

“No. He came around. Reluctantly.”

 

Philip smiled. “Gage doesn’t do anything that matters without reluctance. I think it’s because of his mother.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“She was quite ill for a long time, most of his boyhood, and died during his second year at Cambridge. He never talks about her, but I know they were close. Especially since his father was away at sea much of the time.”

 

My heart clenched. The loss of a parent was always difficult, but something about the way Philip said he never talked about her told me Gage had taken his mother’s death harder than most.

 

I followed the flight of a squawking kittiwake as it wheeled about the azure sky overhead before soaring toward the crumbling battlements of Banbogle Castle behind me.

 

“You know, you haven’t answered me yet,” Philip pointed out. His tone was well modulated, but I could see the tension in the turn of his neck as he looked out over the firth.

 

I didn’t pretend to be ignorant about what he referred to. “I think you’re right about Alana and the children. They are certain to be more comfortable in Edinburgh.” I hesitated, not wanting to argue with him further, but prepared to do battle nonetheless.

 

“But?”

 

“But I would not. Not knowing I didn’t at least try to help Will.” I turned to meet his gaze, letting him know I was serious. “I’m through with being a coward, Philip.”

 

He searched my eyes, as if looking for some sign of weakness. When he found none, he sighed. “And what am I supposed to tell Alana? You know she’s going to worry about you.”

 

“She’ll understand,” I assured him, hoping it was true. I knew I couldn’t stop my sister from fretting, but I thought I could at least put my decision into perspective for her.

 

He frowned at the trees standing between Dalmay House and us. The colors of the leaves were brilliant in the early morning light, a feast for my artistic palate. The earthy scent of them only whetted my appetite more. It had been a long time since I’d painted someone against an autumnal backdrop, and I suddenly itched for my oils and a canvas. Perhaps I could convince Miss Remmington to pose for me here. As little as I cared for her troublemaking, her pale features would benefit greatly from such a colorful backdrop.

 

Philip turned to me, his features tight with frustration. For a moment I thought he knew how far my attention had wandered from the matter at hand, but then I realized that was unlikely. I waited for him to speak.

 

“All right,” he said. “I will allow you to stay here.”

 

I bristled at his choice of words, but knew better than to say anything if I was getting what I wanted.

 

“On one condition.”

 

I lifted my eyebrows, wondering what it could be.

 

“You must promise me that you will not visit William Dalmay without Mr. Gage accompanying you.”

 

I scowled at him fiercely. “No!”

 

“Then you will be journeying to Edinburgh with us if I have to drag you bodily into the carriage myself,” he declared as calmly as if he were discussing the weather.

 

“Why can’t it be Michael or one of Will’s caretakers?”

 

“Because I don’t trust them to have your best interests at heart.”

 

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