“I have a sister,” he replied finally. His eyes focused on me again, allowing me to see the anger and worry reflected behind them. “She started to dandle after one o’ the men yer lookin’ for. I told her to stay away from him. He’s no good. But she didna listen. And when they skulked off, she went wi’ ’em.”
“And you’re worried she’s come to regret that decision.”
He nodded, one sharp bob of his head.
I tilted my head, trying to suppress the sympathy I could feel welling up inside me. For all I knew, Bonnie Brock could have been an ogre to his sister and that was why she ran off. But somehow, seeing the real concern he seemed to feel, I suspected he was no worse than any other brother.
“How old is she?”
“Aboot sixteen.”
So young. “What do you want me to do?”
“Like I told ye, if she was in Edinburgh, I woulda found her in a matter o’ hours. But she’s no’. I want ye to find her. To send her back.”
I supposed that was easy enough. Chances were she was with these rogue body snatchers, if we ever caught up with them. But I hesitated to make such a promise, especially knowing as little as I did.
“I’ll find your sister,” I told him, and his shoulders relaxed. “I’ll speak with her and find out if she’s truly well. And if she wants to return to Edinburgh, I’ll make sure she returns here, safe and sound. But I can’t agree to more than that.”
His gaze hardened. “She’s no’ of age.”
“I’m aware of that. And I’ll do my best to convince her to return to you. But if for whatever reason she does not want to, I will not force her.”
When the vein in his forehead began to throb, I thought it best to do a little more to reassure him.
“Come now. Do you honestly think I would leave a young girl in a situation that I did not think was suitable? For any woman,” I added, in case he thought I would think a brothel was appropriate for the sister of a notorious criminal like him. “Perhaps she’s found a respectable position for herself somewhere. If she’s safe and well cared for, I’m not going to force her to leave.”
Bonnie Brock studied me, clearly considering my words. I knew it had been dangerous to defy him, but I simply could not commit myself to something without knowing all the facts, especially when dealing with a man like him.
“I dinna like my requests to be denied,” he bit off. “But considerin’ how confident I am that Maggie ’ll wish to return if given the chance, I’ll let your foolishness slide.”
“Thank you,” I replied, unable to keep the mocking edge from my voice.
His eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. He reached his hand up and rapped on the roof three times and then settled back against the squabs.
I felt the carriage immediately pick up speed again, and then make a turn to the right and then the left. I still had no idea where we were, so the quick changes in direction meant nothing to me, but apparently they did to Bonnie Brock.
He sat forward on the edge of his seat and slid closer to the door. “’Twas a pleasure to meet ye, Lady Darby,” he declared.
I felt some of the muscles I’d been holding so tightly begin to release at the realization that this unasked-for interlude was almost over. “I’ll give your regards to Mr. Gage.” I sneered.
His eyes flashed. “Oh, dinna bother. I’ll offer them myself verra soon.”
“Don’t you dare.” I gasped, grasping the implication. “You got what you wanted from me. There’s no reason to disturb him.”
He chuckled darkly. “Aye. But I dinna get everything I wanted from you.”
I frowned. “Because I wouldn’t guarantee to send your sister to you?”
He stared at me levelly, his eyelids heavier than they had been before. “Just be glad ye brought yer pistol. And I was convinced ye might try to use it.”
The carriage halted abruptly, throwing me forward in my seat. By the time I’d righted myself, Bonnie Brock was already leaping out of the carriage.
“If you touch so much as a hair on his head . . .” I shouted before the door was slammed in my face.
The coach rolled forward again, and I inhaled deeply, sinking lower on the cushions while I tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When I had myself more in hand, I risked a glance out the window, and upon seeing the classical buildings of the New Town, I reached up to rap on the ceiling. The coach immediately slowed, and a few minutes later the footman appeared in the doorway.
His eyes were wide in his face. “My lady, are you well?”
“Yes, yes,” I assured him. “What of you and the coachman? Did they harm either of you?”
“No more than our pride, m’lady.”
I nodded, relieved to know that at least we’d all come through our encounter with Bonnie Brock unscathed.
“I’m sorry, m’lady. They ambushed us on Charlotte Street. And they told me if I said a word to you at the theater, they’d shoot you.”
“It’s all right. They put us all in an impossible situation.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Where did they leap out at?”
“Near The Mound, m’lady.”
At the intersection of the Old and the New Town.
The coachmen yelled down something I couldn’t hear, but it made the footman glance up and down the street. “Do you wish to return to Charlotte Square, m’lady?”
“Not yet,” I replied, giving him an address on Princes Street and instructions on who to fetch once we were there.
He nodded and closed the carriage door before moving to the front to relay my message to the coachman. There must have been a small bit of squabbling over my orders, but eventually they were obeyed.
I huddled inside the carriage, shivering within my cloak. The hot brick Philip and Alana had left had long since cooled, and most of the heat had escaped when the footman had opened the door earlier. As the minutes ticked by, I couldn’t stop myself from peering out the window toward the darkness of the trees lining the opposite side of the street. The shadowy outline of the castle on its rock outcropping towered over the scene, offering no deterrent to the criminals that might lurk below it.
When finally the carriage door opened, I jumped, having spent too long imagining terrible scenarios. Gage peered inside at me, a confused expression on his face.
“Kiera. What’s happened?”
I gestured him inside and once he’d settled on the seat and closed the door behind him, I couldn’t stop from flinging myself into his arms. He held me close and allowed me to bury my face against his neck. I breathed in deeply, comforted by his scent and the solidness of his form, and the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
My own pulse began to slow and I turned my head, feeling the scrape of his whiskers against my forehead. It was then that I realized his cravat was missing. I opened my eyes to see that Gage’s shirt was partially unbuttoned, allowing me a glimpse of the wiry hairs growing at the top of his chest. My fingers brushed against them where my hand pressed to his hard pectorals. His dark greatcoat was draped around him, but he had not buttoned it before hurrying out to me.
“Kiera,” he murmured, reaching up to cradle my jaw and lift my face so that I could meet his concerned gaze. “What is it? Tell me.”
“I . . . I just needed to be sure that you were safe.”
His brow furrowed. “Of course, I am. Why? What’s happened?”
I inhaled deeply and pushed myself upright, so that I could better see him. I brushed my hair back from my face. “Bonnie Brock came to see me.”
Gage’s eyes widened in shock. “What! When?”
I explained how I’d attended the theater with Alana and Philip, and how they’d left early. When I got to the point of the evening when Bonnie Brock kidnapped me in this very carriage, Gage began stifling curses. He demanded I tell him everything, and I did my best to relay all that had been said, minus the comments about my eyes. Unfortunately, Gage seemed far less conc
erned with the man’s threats to “pay his respects” to him than I was.
“I take it you and Sergeant Maclean were unsuccessful in your search,” I added, perhaps unnecessarily.
“The entire town closed ranks as soon as we mentioned his name. They’re all either profiting from him or afraid of him.”
“Do you think he told me the truth? About the men who used to work for him?”
Gage glared at the wall across the carriage. “I don’t know. On the one hand, there was no need for him to confide in you. Not to mention the bit about his sister. On the other, I don’t trust him any more than I trust that a stray dog won’t steal my steak if given half a chance.”
“He’s not a nice man, Gage.”
Hearing the worried note in my voice, he turned to look at me.
“I don’t think you should take his threat so lightly.”
“Kiera, I’m not going to come to any harm,” he replied, lifting a hand to brush it against my cheek.
I took hold of his hand, gripping it between my own and running my thumbs over his rough calluses. “I just want you to take precautions.”
“I will,” he promised. “But I’m also not going to allow the man to intimidate me.” His eyes hardened. “He might think he owns Edinburgh, but I’m not without my own contacts.”
“Gage . . .”
“Let’s get you home. I’m sure your servants are freezing by now.” He leaned out to yell at the coachman and then settled back against the seat next to me, wrapping his arm around me. I rested my head sideways against his shoulder, grateful for his warmth and the comfort of his presence.
Philip’s town house was only a few blocks away, so in a matter of minutes we were pulling up to its front. As the footman opened the carriage door for me, Philip emerged from the town house, his face creased in lines of worry.
“Oh, thank heavens,” he exclaimed as he saw me emerge. “When you didn’t return, I thought something had happened to you.”
“Something did,” Gage replied harshly as he stepped down behind me.
Before the two men could begin to argue on the doorstep, I asked them if we could please go inside out of the cold. They obliged, and soon I was warming myself before the fire in Philip’s study while he and Gage quarreled. I decided it would be a miracle if Alana managed to sleep through the racket they were causing. I knew it was merely fear and worry talking, two emotions I had experienced aplenty that night, but after a few minutes of their bickering, I decided I’d had enough.
“Stop!” I snapped, stepping between them. “Philip didn’t do anything wrong. He took measures for my safety. There was no way he could have known Bonnie Brock would circumvent them. And there’s no use in blaming yourself,” I told Gage. “You had no way of knowing the man would be so devious. No one came to harm. Can we not just leave it at that?”
The two men still eyed each other with mistrust and anger, but they did not disagree.
“Now, tell me,” I said, turning to Philip. “How is Alana?”
He uncrossed his arms, and moved toward the sideboard. “Resting comfortably.”
“Good.”
He poured himself a tot of Matheson whiskey from his own distillery and downed it in one swallow. Then he turned to tip his glass at Gage, asking if he would like one.
Gage shook his head. “No, thank you. I should be going.” He reached up to brush a hand through his golden hair. “It’s been a long evening.”
“Take the carriage,” Philip told him.
“Thanks, but I prefer to walk.”
“No,” I interrupted. “That’s exactly what Bonnie Brock would want you to do.”
He turned to me wearily. “Kiera, the man is not going to ambush me tonight. He’s probably at home already, tucked up warm in his bed.”
“All the same, you said you would take precautions. And the carriage will be much warmer than walking.”
“I have my precautions,” he declared, lifting aside his greatcoat so that I could see his pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He looked to Philip. “Thank you for purchasing that Hewson for Kiera.”
Philip nodded. “Though you’ll have to thank her brother for teaching her how to shoot it. I’m afraid I never got the opportunity.” His gaze shifted to me. “Did she use it?”
“Only in threat. But it worked well enough.”
I scowled. They didn’t need to speak about me as if I wasn’t here.
“Gage, please take the carriage,” I begged, deciding to try a different tack. “I’ll worry all night if you don’t.”
“Kiera,” he murmured, wrapping his hands around my upper arms. “No.” Then he dropped a swift kiss on my lips and turned to go.
“Bloody stupid man!” I cried after him, wishing now I’d never gone to see him after Bonnie Brock had released me.
I heard the front door of the town house open and close with a thud, and I felt like throwing something. Philip stood by the sideboard, smiling in commiseration.
“You could have stopped him,” I snapped, before stalking up to my room to pass what was certain to be a long, sleepless night.
• • •
As it turned out, I spent more than half of the night tucked up in my makeshift art studio in a small room at the back of the top floor. Worry and anger turned out to be marvelous distracters, and I was able to make significant progress on the portrait of Philip’s cousin Caroline I had left behind when I departed for Blakelaw House. I would have preferred to work on Gage’s portrait, but I had not brought it with me when we journeyed to Edinburgh, the recent paint I had added to it making it too fragile to transport.
When Gage called for me the next morning in his black lacquer carriage, I was peering out the window, watching for him. I was so relieved to see him that I didn’t even wait for him to disembark and come inside to collect me, but simply grabbed my reticule and bounded down the steps. He must have seen me coming, because he had not yet emerged, and in fact sat stiffly on the far side of the carriage while the footman helped me inside.
He made only the most perfunctory reply to my greeting, seeming far more interested in the antics of the neighbor children playing in the square under the watchful eyes of their governesses and nannies. Malcolm, Philippa, and Greer usually joined them sometime around midmorning, after their first course of lessons. Their shouts and laughter could be heard even over the sound of the carriage wheels, as we rounded the square and headed east.
When the organized streets of the new town were behind us, and the towering form of Calton Hill rose to our left and Salisbury Crag to our right, and yet Gage had still not spoken more than two words to me, I became concerned. I turned away from the sight of the new burying ground begun south of Calton to stare at his profile. His firm jaw was as smooth and as hard as granite above the expertly folded draping of his snowy white cravat.
“Maybe you’re waiting for an apology from me for my being so angry with you last night,” I began. “But you’re not going to get one. Not when I was only thinking of your safety.” When he didn’t even turn to look at me, I became irritated. “You cannot expect to give orders and demands about my safety without my being able to do the same.” I frowned at his silence. “I’m glad to see you’re unharmed. But that doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”
Gage sighed heavily and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he turned to look at me.
I gasped as the light from the window illuminated the nasty contusion over his left eye. Leaning forward, I reached out to touch it, but he only turned away.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled.
“Let me see it,” I ordered him. When he still resisted, I gripped his jaw between my thumb and forefinger and forced his head to the side. Finally he relented.
The bruise was a mottled circle of purple and red extending over his eyelid and down to his cheekbone. There were no lacerations, and the damage would most likely heal without any serious complications, but that did little to soothe my distress.
He pulled away from me and I let him. “You know what happened.”
“I told you . . .”
“Yes. I know,” he snapped. “But you should see them. They look worse off than I do.”
I glared at him. Somehow I doubted that.
“Are you injured anywhere else?”
“Nowhere you need be concerned with.”
“Gage!”
“Just a bruise on my shin and another on my shoulder. And these.” He stripped off his gloves to show me his battered and scraped knuckles.
I was happy to see that Bonnie Brock and his associates hadn’t gotten away without receiving at least a few blows in return.
I turned to stare out the window, fighting the twin urges to punch the man myself and also throw myself into his arms and beg him never to take such a risk again. No one needed to remind me that he was lucky to have emerged from the fight without more serious wounds. Bonnie Brock could have pulled a knife or a pistol. Gage could have bled out on a cold Edinburgh street.
I shook the terrifying thought aside and concentrated instead on how furious I was with him for not listening to me. The fact that he would not have been walking home alone down the deserted street after midnight if I had not run straight to him after hearing Bonnie Brock’s threat also helped to stoke my rage. I couldn’t help but feel I had played straight into the scoundrel’s hands.
The remainder of the ride to Musselburgh was spent in tense silence, neither of us willing to break the angry standoff. By the time we pulled up to the Casselbecks’ manor house along the banks of the River Esk, I was in such a foul mood that I found it difficult to be polite to the servants. All my smiles and comments felt forced and fraudulent, particularly next to Gage’s easy charm. But then he also had to endure their openmouthed stares at his black eye. Next to that, I suspected they barely noticed me.
“My goodness, Mr. Gage,” Sir Robert gasped when he came forward to greet us. “What happened?”
A Grave Matter Page 22
