I closed my eyes and drew a sharp breath, inhaling Gage’s scent and his spicy cologne, and allowed myself to relax into his hold. I had forgotten what it was like to be held like this by a man. The strength of his arms, the sense of being protected, cherished, sheltered. My father had never been particularly demonstrative with his affection, not since I was a little girl and he would cradle me in his arms or hold me on his lap, and my brother had followed suit. Sir Anthony certainly hadn’t been the affectionate type, nor had I wanted him near me after the first fortnight of our marriage and the revelation of his deception. So it came as something of a shock when I realized how much I’d missed this undemanding affection. It warmed something deep inside me I hadn’t even known was cold and consoled me in a way I had not thought possible.
When finally he released his tight hold on me and allowed me to look up into his face, I hardly knew what to say, but I felt much more capable of speaking without falling apart.
“What happened in there?” he asked softly.
“Bad memories, I guess.” I sighed, knowing I had more to admit. “And I lost my temper.”
He nodded. “Miss Remmington’s criticism was startling and uncalled-for, but I never expected you to react so furiously.” His pale blue eyes searched mine.
I dropped my gaze, knowing an explanation was necessary. “He’s not here to defend himself. And I couldn’t just let her comments stand. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have responded so angrily.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Or vividly.” I grimaced. “Did I really say something about a crow pecking out someone’s eyes?”
His eyebrows raised in gentle chastisement. “Yes.”
I groaned, allowing my head to fall back. I would need to apologize to both Miss Remmington and Damien for my harsh comments, though the idea left a sour taste in my mouth when I thought about the remarks they’d made that had sparked my responses in the first place.
“I’ll make an apology,” I muttered. “But I don’t understand how Miss Remmington could suggest such an awful thing about William.”
“I’m more interested in why.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean?”
Gage glanced over his shoulder at the base of the stairs and down the corridor toward the drawing room. Then, taking hold of my arm, he escorted me up the staircase. “Miss Remmington is certainly something of a hoyden, but she does not strike me as the type of person who would make such nasty accusations for no reason other than to cause trouble. She’s upset about something. And if I’m not mistaken, it has to do with Michael.”
“So you noticed the suspicious glances she’s been sending him all evening, too?”
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. “How could I miss them? She may have thought she was being subtle, but she failed to recognize she had two nosy busybodies seated across from her at dinner.”
I arched my eyebrows, humored by his absurd description of us.
“Speaking of which . . .” He stopped and turned to me. “You were very quiet at dinner.”
I felt a blush slowly begin to burn its way up my neck and into my cheeks.
He cleared his throat. “I hope something didn’t put you off your appetite.”
“No,” I replied, not wanting him to think I’d disliked his . . . attentions earlier, or for him to think I was some sort of green girl, bashful and unworldly. “I just . . . I don’t . . .” I then stammered, proving exactly how inexperienced I was.
There was a gleam in his eye, telling me he had returned to his normal conceited self. “Yes, sometimes I have that effect on people.”
I scowled at him and replied tartly, “And here I thought I was the only one having difficulty coming up with words simple enough for you to understand.”
Gage chuckled and drew me away from the stairs where we could hear others below stirring. “In all seriousness,” he said, still sporting a grin, “what do you know of Miss Remmington? Is there any reason to suspect something between her and Michael or William?”
“Not according to her, or anything I’ve observed.”
“Agreed. Then it must be something she knows. Perhaps something we don’t.”
I considered the possibility.
“In which case, one of us will need to get her to confide in us . . .” He trailed off expectantly.
I frowned. “Me?”
He nodded.
I sighed. “Which means I really will have to apologize to her.”
He smiled tightly.
“Fine,” I griped, wrinkling the pale green silk of my skirt between my fingers. I heard the crinkle of paper. “But it can wait until tomorrow.”
He did not push the matter further and I began to feel guilty for being so snappish. I really needed to get some rest. The previous night’s sleeplessness and the long day had taken its toll on my temper and my self-control.
“I’ll wish you a good night, then,” he said, stepping closer.
“Wait,” I gasped, my heart beating faster. “Are you returning to the drawing room?”
He tilted his head. “Yes.”
“Would you mind setting this on the tray in the hall?” I pulled the missive I’d penned to Philip and Alana from my pocket. “I meant to leave it there on my way up the stairs.”
“Not a problem. I have my own to mail.” He patted the inside pocket of his coat.
“Is your father well?” I asked cautiously, not wanting to be handed another evasive response, but unable to forget the look on his face after he had read his letter.
“Yes,” he replied, sliding my letter into his pocket with his own.