Gage turned to me with a bright smile. “No bet, then. But if those ferrymen don’t confirm that Miss Wallace never crossed the river that day, keeping her far away from Dalmay House, I’ll . . .” his eyes lifted skyward, as if searching for inspiration “. . . eat a haggis for dinner.”
I felt a swirling in my stomach. One that I knew was due to Gage’s rising confidence in Will’s innocence rather than any nausea at the idea of eating haggis.
*
And as expected, Gage did not have to choke down the traditional Scottish dish. None of the ferrymen had seen Miss Wallace on Thursday, and they knew her well. It appeared she had something of a routine, and rarely crossed the river on Thursdays. So they promised they would remember the oddity of such a departure from the usual. There was absolutely no reason to doubt their truthfulness. So it was with a lighter heart that I began our ride back to Dalmay House, though my thoughts were still troubled over the whereabouts of Miss Wallace.
The trail wound in and out of the forest that bordered the firth, giving us glimpses of the water and then taking it away. But all the while we could hear the soft roaring of the waves as they approached the shore. Sycamores and elderberry trees lined the path with pale white asters sprinkling the ground between their trunks. Here and there stood patches of bramble bushes, reminding me that this was where Miss Remmington and Miss Wallace first met, and where they often strolled together. It was a lovely little wood, allowing just enough sunshine through the canopy above so that it did not feel isolated or confining.
I glanced at Gage, who seemed to be puzzling through something—his brow furrowed, his body loose and swaying to the gait of his horse. He had not spoken since asking his questions of the ferrymen. I knew there were things we needed to discuss, questions I needed to ask, but I was almost reluctant to voice them. I had not slept well again, my mind too full of worries and fears I dared not speak aloud. This was the most serene I had felt since arriving at Dalmay House—no, since leaving Gairloch Castle, when my sister promptly fell ill a mile into the journey—and I was reluctant to end it. Whether it was the peaceful setting or the mounting evidence that Will could not have had anything to do with Miss Wallace’s disappearance, whatever had exerted its calming influence on me, I knew it would end the moment I addressed the secrets between us.
I wanted to pretend they weren’t there. I was so tired of fighting with Gage. I tried to tell myself that whatever he was keeping from me couldn’t be that bad; that I didn’t need to know. But I did. I knew I did. And it would nag at me, affecting everything I did until I had the truth.
I gazed across the short distance between us at Gage’s profile, watching the light and shade shift across it. I was weary of all the secrets. He needed to either tell me or leave me be.
“I know,” Gage surprised me by saying.
I worried for a moment I might have spoken aloud.
He turned his head to look at me. “I know we need to talk. But first . . . there’s something I want to ask you.” He paused, his eyes heavy with some strong emotion, and I realized he was waiting for my response.
I frowned, uncertain what he needed to ask me. “All right.”
His eyes turned forward again. I wasn’t sure whether he didn’t know how to phrase his question or if he was working up the courage to ask it.
When he spoke, it was slow and hesitant. “Are there really no romantic feelings on your part for Will?”
I scowled at him in irritation. Why did he continue to persist in this?
“I know it’s impertinent,” he told me. “I just . . . need to know.”
I studied him, trying to understand why my answer seemed so important to him. Was this because he’d kissed me? Was he worried he was trifling with another man’s woman? Particularly since Will was Michael’s brother, and hardly in a state to defend my honor, if necessary.
“Gage,” I spoke softly, leaning forward to try to catch his gaze, “I care for Will, I do. But there is nothing romantic between us,” I assured him.
When I finished speaking those words, he finally looked up at me.
I shook my head. “I am never going to marry William Dalmay, even if he asked me.” It was my turn to look away, to gaze out at the strip of sea emerging through a gap in the trees. “I don’t suspect I ever will marry again,” I murmured. I’m not sure what made me add the last, but if we were going to be honest with each other, I suppose I decided to lay it all before him.
I turned back and, seeing his expression—which I read as somewhat pitying, though perhaps it was meant to be sympathetic—I smiled tightly. “Now,” I declared, jumping straight into the fire to hide my embarrassment, “where have you seen Dr. Sloane? Did you meet him somewhere?”