He frowned at her interference, but relented with a stiff nod.
Michael, who had observed their exchange with growing agitation, rose from his chair with one stiff movement. “It matters not to me who joins us, but we leave in half an hour, whether you are ready or not.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When I reached the stables twenty minutes later, as I had promised, Michael had already had a dappled mare saddled for me. Her soft gray coat was speckled with creamy white dots, as if someone had flicked a paintbrush across her flank.
“Aren’t you a beauty?” I crooned as I ran my hand down her long neck, allowing her to get to know me. I laughed as she tossed her mane playfully, agreeing with my sentiment.
“Well, isn’t she a vain one,” Gage remarked in good humor, as he rounded the corner of the building leading a chestnut gelding.
“Hush,” I told him. “She has reason to be. Don’t you?” I murmured to the mare, who was watching me closely. She lowered her head to snuffle the skirt of my crimson riding ensemble and I chuckled. “Ah, now, be calm, ye wee beastie,” I scolded the horse, imitating Philip’s Highland stable master. “Yes, I have something for you.”
“Bribing the horses.”
I turned to see Gage shake his head in mock condemnation while I offered the mare the carrot.
I smiled and turned back to check the horse’s bridle. I could feel Gage’s eyes linger on me, and I flushed with pleasure, knowing I looked my best.
Clothing rarely mattered to me, but for some reason I always felt rather fetching in my riding habits. This particular ensemble featured the stylish new sleeves puffed from the shoulders to the elbows, where it narrowed through the wrists. Matching crimson buttons marched up and down the sides of the bodice in a military style while the fabric tapered to a sharp vee in the front. A small ruffle at the bottom of the jacket in the middle of my back added a bit of flair to the view from behind. I even enjoyed wearing the top hat with its trailing ivory sash that completed the ensemble.
The promising weather of the morning had blossomed into a beautiful autumn day. In the shelter of the stable yard, the sun’s rays were almost too hot inside my woolen dress, but I knew once we mounted and rode out into the open, the blustery wind would cool me.
It appeared Gage was just as warm inside his deep evergreen riding coat, for he shifted closer to the bit of shade on my left cast by the stables’ upper story. He turned away from me to run his hands over his horse’s flank, checking the equipage, and commented in a deceptively indifferent voice, “Do you really think Dr. Renshaw will be able to tell us anything useful about Dr. Sloane’s methods?”
I frowned at his back, knowing it had been too much to hope that he had not been listening in on my conversation with Philip earlier. “Maybe,” I replied vaguely, hoping the man would drop the matter, but already knowing he would not.
Gage swiveled his head to look at me, though I refused to meet his eyes. “But why would you specifically suggest that your late husband’s former assistant may be acquainted with Dr. Sloane? And why do you think he would be more willing to talk by mentioning your name?”
“You do know that was a private conversation?” I bit out in clipped tones. I ran a soothing hand down the mare’s neck as her ears flicked, hearing the tension and displeasure in my voice.
“Well, when the parties involved make little effort not to be overheard, it’s difficult not to hear what one shouldn’t.”
I turned to glare at him.
His deliberately antagonizing smile slipped and he took a step closer to me. “Come now. Why would this Renshaw be able or willing to help us?”
“To help me,” I pointed out.
“Yes, help you,” Gage relented, reaching up to run a hand down the other side of my horse’s neck.
I pressed my lips together and considered refusing to answer, especially in light of all the times he had refused to answer my questions. But in the end, I knew that doing so would only make a bigger deal than necessary out of such a small matter. So what if Gage knew about Renshaw? He was no great secret.
“Dr. Renshaw was particularly interested in the brain, and understanding why we do the things we do. He wanted to study how changes to the brain, from head injuries and illnesses and the like, affect our behavior. My guess is that Dr. Sloane’s interests are similar, and with the Larkspur Retreat so close to Edinburgh, I imagine Dr. Renshaw may have heard something of the man and his methods.”