“But, nothing,” he replied sharply. “You cannot arrange an inquiry to suit your purposes. You must be open-minded and impartial, taking into account all evidence, whether you like it or not; otherwise, the result is flawed.” He leaned in even closer, his pale gaze boring into mine. “And we both know what happens when the results are flawed.”
“Oh, is that why you dismissed my doubts so readily during our investigation at Gairloch?” I sneered, pressing my hands back against the wall so that I could rise up on the balls of my feet to meet his gaze more evenly. I didn’t want to admit that his words had struck a chord, that I was scared Will might be guilty.
“Your doubts were based on intuition, not evidence. And I have already apologized for that twice now. I will not do so again.”
“But you will not tell me why. Why, Gage? Why did you turn your back on me?” I heard the hurt creeping into my voice and shook it aside. “After all, the truth is the truth, is it not?” I snapped, throwing his words back in his face.
I gasped as he pushed forward and flattened me against the wall, his hands splayed on either side of my head. He glared down at me and I glared back, pouring all of my rage, frustration, and pain into my gaze.
Why couldn’t he be honest with me? Why was that so difficult? I wasn’t a demanding person. And I certainly didn’t expect much from him. I knew he couldn’t give me what I had only begun to suspect I secretly wanted in the deepest recesses of my heart. All I needed was his honesty, and perhaps a little of his trust. Was that so much to ask?
Whether Gage could read my expression or not I didn’t know, but his own became more conflicted. His pupils dilated, swallowing the flecks of silver that sparkled when he was angry or amused. His body, which had been rigid with fury, softened, and the next thing I knew, his hands cradled my head and he kissed me.
Whether this went on for seconds or minutes, I don’t know, but by the time he lifted his mouth from mine, I was tingling from head to toe. I leaned against the wall, afraid my knees wouldn’t hold me up if I tried to step away from it. Gage continued to cradle the back of my neck in his hand as he gazed down at me, our breath sawing in and out of our lungs in unison. I was too dazed to form words and it pleased me that Gage seemed similarly affected.
I’m not certain what either of us would have said next had the sound of a lock turning not interrupted us. He stepped back just before a footman entered through the hall door carrying a tray of food. The footman jumped at the sight of us, almost spilling the contents of Will’s dinner all over the floor. Fortunately his reflexes were quick, and Gage was sufficiently recovered to mumble some sort of pleasantry while ushering me through the door.
We were silent on the stairs, both of us absorbed in our own thoughts. Mine mostly ran the gamut of what one was supposed to say after being kissed breathless in a hallway—it was a novel experience for me. I was afraid that Gage, on the other hand, being far more experienced, was trying to come up with an apology or a reason why he could never do so again. I didn’t want to hear either.
And in the end, I didn’t have to, for Lord Keswick was standing at the base of the stairs, already dressed for dinner. He asked Gage a question, and I excused myself to go change, hurrying down the hall away from the men before Gage could catch up with me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After dinner, a rather uncomfortable affair for me, being seated next to Gage as I was, we gathered in the drawing room, where the butler entered a few moments later with a pair of notes delivered late from Edinburgh. The first was for me, and I took it up eagerly, having been expecting word from Philip and Alana of their safe arrival. The second was handed to Gage, who accepted it with a frown.
I opened my letter and gave it a cursory glance to see that it was indeed from my brother-in-law, saying they had reached their town house in Charlotte Square. I told the others as much and then excused myself to sit at the dainty writing desk in the corner to finish reading the missive.
Philip assured me that Alana and the children were now settled, and they were already feeling better for arriving home at their journey’s end. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that my sister was probably tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle at her feet and a warm cup of tea on the nightstand beside her. Philip would take care of her. And I trusted he would write me should any of her new physician’s instructions prove questionable, as he promised in his letter. I smiled. Alana must have told him about my terse directives.