“I don’t know,” I told Michael. “But I would rather find Miss Wallace alive and well.”
“Of course,” he replied, abashed. “I didn’t mean to imply that I wished Miss Wallace ill.”
“I know.” I offered him a reassuring smile. “You’re just looking out for your brother.”
Deep furrows of worry etched his forehead.
“Did Gage tell you, he and I are going back tomorrow while the constable is away.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No. I think the fewer of us there are to draw attention the better. Besides, Mr. Paxton is liable to cause trouble when he hears of our interference, and I’d rather the man not harbor any resentment toward you.”
Michael grimaced, knowing I spoke the truth. It would be best if the constable caused as little trouble at Dalmay House as possible, particularly for William.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he told me. “And Gage.” He closed his eyes as if in prayer. “Thank goodness he sent me that letter.”
“That he was finishing a case in Edinburgh?” I prompted, having wanted to know exactly how Gage ended up at Dalmay House at such a propitious time.
“Yes, and asking if he could come for a visit.”
I sat up straighter.
“Told me some fiddle-faddle about how he was worn out from working so many investigations for his father. I didn’t believe it for a minute, of course. Gage’s work has been his life these past few years. He seems enthralled by it. But I was happy to welcome him, in any case, and badly in need of some friendly advice regarding my brother.”
I knew there was more to Gage’s presence here than mere coincidence. And when I’d asked him about it, he’d lied straight to my face, the weasel. He’d told me he’d written to Michael upon his arrival in Edinburgh, not upon the completion of his latest investigation. And then he’d implied that Michael had been the one to invite him to Dalmay House, not that he had effectively invited himself.
But why? Why had he lied to me, if not in a barefaced manner, at least by implication and omission? It was one thing for him to withhold the truth about his past from me. I understood that was his right, even if I didn’t agree with him. But to lie about the origins of his invitation to Dalmay House, that simply didn’t make any sense.
My eyes narrowed. He had to be hiding something, something he didn’t want me to know, something important, or he would never have taken the risk of being so easily caught out. Gage was smarter than that. But what could it be?
“Is everything all right?” Michael asked.
I glanced up at him, realizing I’d lapsed into silence. “Of course.” I offered him a quick smile. “Sorry. Just woolgathering.”
“About what?” His eyes shone with curious concern. “Your expression was quite intense.”
I considered sharing my doubts about Gage, but only for a moment. This was an issue between Gage and me. There was no need to bring Michael into it, especially when he already had so much on his mind.
“Just . . . wondering if Philip and Alana made it to Edinburgh without incident.”
He nodded. “You’re concerned for your sister’s health.”
“Yes,” I replied honestly.
“Once Philip has her settled in Edinburgh, she’ll be fine.”
I turned to stare at the low-riding sun where it peeked between the trees to our west, dappling us with light. “I hope so.”
*
When we emerged from the trees and came into sight of the manor house and stables, we could see a black gig parked in the stable yard. Michael leaned forward, narrowing his eyes to study the carriage.
“That’s Dr. Winslow.” He spurred his horse faster.
From his reaction, I deduced he must be Will’s physician and urged my mare into a gallop. The others glanced at us in confusion as we rode past, but followed without question.
When we reached the stables, Michael threw his reins to one of the hands who had run out to meet us and slid from his horse’s back. “Walk them out,” he ordered. He whirled around as if looking for something, and when he caught sight of me, he pushed aside the stable lad who was assisting me and reached up to wrap his hands around my waist and lift me out of my sidesaddle. My feet had barely touched the ground before he was pulling me toward the front door.
“I wasn’t expecting him today,” was all he murmured, and I was struggling too much to catch my breath to ask questions.
I glanced over my shoulder as Gage’s long stride caught us up, but his attention was focused on Michael, a deep furrow of concern running down the middle of his forehead.
Michael’s butler met us in the entry hall.
“Is he with his lordship?” Michael asked as we passed into the space.
“Yes, sir.”