A Grave Matter Page 23

  “Just a minor altercation.” Gage’s posture was stiff, not inviting comment.

  “He walked into a door,” I supplied, I thought, rather helpfully.

  He turned to glare at me. I ignored him in favor of offering Sir Robert my hand, which he politely took, though it was clear he was baffled by our exchange.

  “Lady Darby, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he murmured, bowing over it.

  “Likewise.”

  He gestured us toward a grouping of furniture near the fireplace, choosing an orange and brown checked wingback chair for himself. I allowed Gage to sit in the other chair while I perched on the end of the silk brocade settee closest to the hearth. The wind had been bitterly cold again this morning, and the grass and rooftops were dusted with a light covering of snow that had fallen sometime near dawn.

  “I understand you’ve uncovered more information about the theft of my father’s bones,” Sir Robert said, crossing one long leg over the other. His dark hair was liberally sprinkled with silver at the temples, giving him a rather distinguished look.

  “Yes,” Gage replied, and proceeded to explain about the other body snatchings and our suspicions that they were all connected in some way, or at least committed by the same criminals. Sir Robert listened silently, and though his eyes widened several times, other than that there was no discernible reaction.

  When Gage had finished, he clasped his hands before him. “I’m acquainted with Mr. Tyler and Lord Buchan. What can I do to help?”

  Exactly what we’d hoped to hear.

  “Are you aware of any connections between your father, the late earl, and Ian Tyler, other than the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland? We’ve been informed they were all founding members.”

  Sir Robert’s eyes rose to the ceiling, seeming to consider the matter.

  “Anything at all,” Gage prodded. “Even something that might seem small and inconsequential.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sure they knew each other, though I wouldn’t have called them close friends.” He tipped his head to the side. “Several of them were writers, usually something to do with Scotland. Perhaps they researched or published something together.”

  Gage nodded. “That’s certainly worth looking into.”

  “Do you think there will be more thefts?”

  He glanced at me, a frustrated look in his eye. “I don’t know. But I worry there may.”

  I hadn’t heard him state it so baldly before, and it made my stomach tighten with dread.

  “Terrible,” Sir Robert muttered, a crease forming between his eyes. “What is our society coming to?”

  None of us had a good reply to that.

  Gage shifted in his seat. “Can you tell me, have you received a visit from a Mr. Lewis Collingwood recently? Perhaps in the last six months.”

  “No.” Sir Robert tapped his fingers. “But I did receive a letter from him.”

  Gage’s disappointed expression immediately transformed to one of interest. “Really? Do you still have it?”

  “If I do, it’s been filed away somewhere by my secretary. But I can tell you he was asking after some family heirloom. Something Celtic.”

  “A gold torc?” I suggested.

  He pointed at me. “Yes. That was it. Seemed to think my father had somehow acquired it. I told him I had no knowledge of it, and it was not currently housed in our family’s private collection.”

  “Did he try to argue with you?” Gage asked, for that would seem more like the Mr. Collingwood we’d become familiar with.

  “If he did, my secretary handled the correspondence.”

  I turned to stare out the tall window just beyond the men’s shoulders. We really needed to speak with Mr. Collingwood. His name simply arose too often in this case for us not to heavily suspect the man. How many other family members of the founders of the Society of Antiquaries had he pestered? And would their ancestors’ bones turn up missing, too?

  Something bright caught my attention on the opposite side of the window. I narrowed my eyes to see better as a pair of riders ambled up the lawn. The one on the left was sporting the brightest, and quite possibly the ugliest, yellow waistcoat I had ever seen. And he looked vaguely familiar.

  I stood to move closer, and Gage and Sir Robert broke off whatever they had been saying to watch me. They turned to follow my gaze.

  “Is that Lord Shellingham?” I asked in some surprise.

  “Why, yes,” Sir Robert replied, and then shook his head in resignation. “Though why my nephew persists in wearing such garish clothing, I’ll never know.”

  “Who is the other gentleman?”

  “My son. Being an age, they’ve always been quite close.”

  I watched as the young men disappeared around the corner of the house, presumably on their way to the stables. “I didn’t realize you were related,” I told Sir Robert.

  He smiled. “Yes. His mother is my younger sister. Are you acquainted with my nephew?”

  Gage’s curious expression told me he was wondering the same thing.

  “Very recently, actually. At my aunt and uncle’s Hogmanay Ball.”

  Gage’s eyebrows rose just a fraction, telling me he understood the implication.

  “Ah, yes,” Sir Robert said. “I believe he attended with Mr. Young, a cousin from his father’s side. I hope they behaved themselves.”

  “As far as I know.” I decided it would be best not to mention Lord Shellingham’s overindulgence. Given the fact that it had been Hogmanay—and over half the party had been foxed—it didn’t seem fair to hold that against him. “Why? Are they normally troublemakers?”

  Sir Robert laughed it off. “No, no more than young gentlemen their age usually are. In truth, I’m rather proud of how well my nephew has shouldered the responsibilities of his title since his father’s death. Didn’t leave him much, I’m afraid. But then again, his grandfather didn’t leave his father much either.” Sir Robert shrugged. “His parents’ marriage was a love match—otherwise I don’t think my father would have allowed it.”

  I found it very difficult to keep my eyes trained on our host through this speech, wanting to see if Gage was as interested to hear all of this as I was. When he’d finished and finally I could glance in his direction, Gage sat as calmly as ever, not betraying by the flick of an eyelash that the man had just given us motive for his nephew to commit the crime of body snatching and ransoming his grandfather’s remains. But I knew he was thinking of it. As sure as I knew that Sir Robert was now a little embarrassed he’d shared so much about his family.

  He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Pardon me. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Gage, you asked if anything was missing from the grave?”

  “From the remains of your father that they returned after the ransom was paid,” Gage clarified. “Were there any bones missing?”

  Sir Robert seemed slightly taken aback. “Well, I didn’t think to check. And, of course, we’ve already reburied him.” His brow furrowed. “Should I be concerned?”

  “Just a formality,” Gage replied, brushing it aside as if it wasn’t consequential. I realized he was trying to spare the man’s feelings. There was no use in upsetting Sir Robert over the matter unless we heard from Lord Buchan that a bone was missing from his uncle’s remains as well. Otherwise, it might just be a detail limited to Tyler’s remains—an accidental oversight by the thieves.

  Gage and I excused ourselves soon after. We’d barely made it into the carriage before I pounced on the new information Sir Robert had unwittingly given us.

  “I wonder if Lord Shellingham has recently come into a sum of money.”

  Gage’s eyes were also bright with the knowledge of our new discovery. “I don’t know. But I would certainly find that interesting.”

  “We know the Tylers’ cousin Mr. Fergusson was having money trouble. And Alana mentioned a second nephew to the eleventh Earl of Buchan who may have felt he was cheated out of his fair share of the in
heritance.”

  “A Mr. Erskine.”

  I nodded. “What if the two of them teamed up with Lord Shellingham? Perhaps they thought this would be a quick, harmless way of making some money. No one gets hurt, except their dead relatives.”

  “That is, until Dodd got shot.”

  I frowned. “Yes. But I would guess they didn’t expect that. They hired a group of Edinburgh criminals to do their dirty work, never anticipating it could go so wrong.”

  I recalled Shellingham’s miserable expression the morning after at breakfast. Had he overimbibed because it was Hogmanay, or because he was trying to forget something awful? Mr. Young, on the other hand, had been skittish. Had he known what his cousin was involved in? Was he part of it, too?

  “I can’t recall either Mr. Erskine or Mr. Fergusson being at the Hogmanay Ball,” I remarked. “But perhaps they were staying elsewhere nearby.”

  “Yes. I imagine Mr. Erskine was the least eager to be seen. He probably stayed at an inn, possibly under an assumed name.” Gage’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “But we’re making an awful lot of assumptions. We need to look into their finances. Then ask around to discover where they were on the dates of all three thefts. Perhaps they didn’t all need to be near the area, but I imagine at least one of them was.”

  I turned to stare out the window at the dark waters of the Firth of Forth, visible to the right of the carriage as we turned back toward Edinburgh. “We could have questioned Lord Shellingham while we were there.”

  Gage shook his head, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated something. “It’s too soon. We don’t have enough information, and if he guesses we’re suspicious of him, it might make things more difficult. It’s best he remains oblivious for the time being.”

  “They already know we’re investigating.”

  “Yes. But they don’t know who.”

  I nodded, acceding his point.

  “We also need to question this Lewis Collingwood. I don’t like how often his name has arisen during this investigation.”

  I agreed. “Shall we pay him a visit this afternoon?”

  Gage looked up from his scrutiny of the burgundy seat cushion. “Actually, I’ve arranged a visit with several current members of the Society of Antiquaries. I thought they might be able to shed some light on this issue of Collingwood’s torc, and tell me more about our three victims.”

  He was right. They might have some very useful information for us. Not to mention being able to explain why Collingwood was so determined that one of its members had stolen the torc.

  However, I had another destination in mind.

  “Then, if you agree, I’d like to share what we’ve uncovered with Philip. He might have some ideas we haven’t thought of. And I’d also like to ask him about Bonnie Brock’s suggestion that we’re looking in the wrong place. That something unsavory in the victims’ pasts connects them.”

  “Brock’s words are more than likely lies. Meant to distract us,” Gage groused.

  I suspected that was his black eye talking more than his common sense. “Yes, well, I think we should at least consider it.”

  His scowl turned blacker, but he didn’t argue.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  When I returned to the town house, Philip was alone in his study. He was seated behind his desk, head bent over a book of ledgers, his large hand gripping a quill. I rapped lightly on the door frame.

  “Kiera,” he murmured with a cautious smile, likely remembering the way I had stalked angrily out of this very room last night.

  “Do you have a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  I gently shut the door behind me, before moving forward to perch on the edge of one of the red chairs facing his desk. Much like the red chairs in his study at Gairloch Castle. I’d never made the correlation before.

  He waited expectantly, his hands folded before him.

  “It’s about the investigation.”

  It may have been my imagination, but I thought I saw his shoulders relax. What dreadful topic he thought I was going to pursue, I didn’t know, but it distracted me for a moment.

  “How can I help?”

  I explained about my conversation with Bonnie Brock. About his claims that something in Ian Tyler of Woodslea, Sir Colum Casselbeck, and Lord Buchan’s shared past was the reason for the thefts and ransoms of their remains. That they had been the real villains, and not as friendly to Scotland as one would think.

  Philip sat back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he gave the matter some thought.

  “Do you have any idea what he might have been hinting at?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t.”

  I exhaled in disappointment.

  “But . . . I know someone who might. That is, if there truly is something to find.” He stared across the desk at me. “Do you really trust this Bonnie Brock’s word enough that you want me to ask?” I lifted my gaze to the portrait of Alana and the children hanging above the fireplace. Greer had still been an infant, cradled in my sister’s arms. Soon I would need to paint a new one, with their fourth child added to the grouping. Though, perhaps this one should include Philip as well, no matter how he protested.

  “I do,” I told Philip. “At least enough to make a few discreet inquiries. If nothing comes of this, I’ll let the matter drop. But I can’t help thinking the man went out of his way to give me this information and ask me to help find his sister. What reason would he have to do that and then lie?”

  “I don’t know. But I suppose he’s as human as the rest of us. If he truly cares about his sister and wants to find her, he would try to help you however he could. Though why he didn’t just give you the culprit’s name confuses me.”

  “Me, too.”

  And that was the question that bothered me most. Why hint at the truth? Why play games if your sister’s well-being is at stake?

  Unless it was a question of honor. And Bonnie Brock certainly seemed to value that attribute. He had not liked my questioning it. Maybe his personal code prevented him from revealing the man’s name. Perhaps he’d made a promise or a bargain, and now could not go back on it, but he could point me in the right direction.

  That was something I hadn’t considered before. Sometimes a vow of silence prevented someone from sharing what they wanted.

  I studied my brother-in-law’s open face, hoping he hadn’t taken a vow of silence as well.

  “Philip, is everything well at Blakelaw House?”

  His brow lowered in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just . . . Trevor has been acting a bit strange lately. And whenever I ask him about it, he tells me there’s nothing to worry about and changes the subject. Is . . . he having money problems?”

  Philip offered me a kind smile. “This is something you really need to speak to Trevor about.”

  “But he’s confided in you?”

  “Well, yes. To a certain extent.”

  I gripped the arms of my chair tighter. “He isn’t going to lose the estate, is he?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that,” he assured me. “But Trevor is a grown man. He’s learning to deal with his failures as well as his successes. And it’s really up to him who he wants to know about them.”

  I frowned. “Does this have to do with the disreputable crowd he fell in with after my scandal broke?”

  Philip’s mouth tightened while he deliberated over just what to say. He truly seemed torn. “Kiera, I really shouldn’t say more. But I can promise you your brother will come out all right in the end.”

  I allowed the matter to drop. It was unfair to keep pressuring him when I should really be quizzing Trevor. But as reassuring as Philip had intended to be, his words did not comfort me.

  • • •

  I was surprised when I found Alana in my bedchamber with my maid Bree. However, one look at the mounting pile of gowns on my bed told me just what was going on.

  “Oh, no,” I declared, closing the door firmly.
“You are not getting rid of any of my dresses.” I turned to glare at my sister where she reclined on the chaise situated before my fireplace. “You do this every time. And then I’m forced to purchase new ones.”

  “Well, that’s the point, dear.”

  “Not this time. Bree, put them back.”

  “Kiera, be reasonable,” Alana said, keeping her voice at soothing tones. “Some of those gowns are three years out of season. Did you have Lucy hide them from me?” she complained, mentioning my former maid.

  “These gowns are all perfectly fine. Especially if I’m traipsing across the countryside at Blakelaw or Gairloch. And even when I’m in town, I don’t leave the house every day.”

  “But, dearest, you really should make room for some new gowns. I’ve just had Bree pull out the worst. Take those down to the rubbish bin.”

  “No,” I snapped. “Bree, hang them back up.”

  The poor girl stood there clutching a dress before her like a shield, watching our argument.

  I stabbed my finger at my sister. “You do not get to throw out my possessions. I’ll purchase new gowns when I’m ready. And when they’ve gotten rid of those hideous puffed sleeves,” I added as an afterthought, ignoring the fact that my sister was wearing a dress in that style now.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I ordered a new gown for you for the assembly tomorrow night.”

  “Please, don’t tell me . . .”

  “It is of the current style,” she declared, and I groaned. “Though, out of deference to you, I did ask her to keep the sleeves’ diameter to a minimum. I hope it fits, given you’ve lost weight again, while I’m only gaining it.”

  “You’re carrying a baby,” I reminded her.

  “Yes, yes,” she replied, waving it aside. “The dress should arrive by two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, and Madam Avignon has promised to send a girl over to take care of any last-minute alterations. So please return from wherever you’ve gone with Mr. Gage by then.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but a blush suddenly began to burn its way up into my cheeks. Perhaps it was the manner in which my sister had phrased her remark, as if we were not really traveling about the city, tracking down leads in a theft and murder investigation. Or the memory of the way Gage had kissed me before letting me leave his carriage less than an hour before. All I knew was that I was forced to turn away lest my sister guess something far worse.