Chapter 24

Bree arrived shortly after Mrs. Mackay departed with Emma, and seeing the worry and fatigue shadowing her eyes and dragging down her shoulders, I couldn't stop myself from reaching for her hands. Even her normally bouncy strawberry blond curls fell listlessly around her face. "You must not have gotten any more sleep than I did."

She offered a weak smile. "Cora insisted on proddin' me wi' questions."

"Did she?"

"Aye," Bree replied, understanding why I found the interest shown by Dolly's maid to be notable.

"Was it the type of normal gossiping done by the staff or something more focused?" I asked as I sank down on the bench wrapped in my dressing gown and allowed her to begin picking out the snarls in my hair.

"Fairly typical. Though once she realized I wasna goin' to be as forthcomin' as she wished, she became more pointed in her queries."

"Pointed about what?" I caught Bree's eye in the reflection of the mirror. "Mery?"

I hadn't forgotten our suspicions that Cora might have warmed Mery's bed.

Bree's mouth quirked wryly. "She couldna seem to decide whether the blackguard killed his grandad or he's too tenderhearted to commit such an act."

I arched my eyebrows. I supposed that answered one of our questions. For it seemed doubtful she would have voiced her opinion with such vehemence or that it would have swung in such a wide arc if her emotions were not somehow engaged. I was simply glad for Bree's sake that this meant it was unlikely Cora was also involved with Anderley. Not that I'd seriously considered the possibility, no matter how uncharacteristically the valet was behaving.

"Did she ever settle on one verdict or the other?" I asked.

"If she did, it was after I'd already fallen asleep." A crease formed in her brow. "In any case, I wouldna trust her opinion. No' when I have better intelligence for ye."

"You overheard Anne speaking with Mery?" I deduced, swiveling to look directly in her eyes. It was the reason I'd been so anxious to speak with her. I'd been too tired to keep my eyes open during the cart ride home to ask her, and Mery might have overheard us.

"I didna catch the beginnin' of their conversation, but it was clear Mrs. Wolcott was shocked to discover Branok wasna already dead and buried. She was verra distraught by the deception and her husband's part in it. Mery kept tellin' her that it was all Branok's fault. That they'd had no choice. But she wasna havin' it. Told him Branok might've bullied 'em into doin' as he wished, but he couldna compel their silence noo, and that he'd best tell you and Mr. Gage all he ken."

My respect for Anne Wolcott increased tenfold.

"Did Mery agree?"

Bree urged me to turn back around as she pulled the brush through my hair again. My scalp smarted where she battled a tangle. "No' that I heard, but he sounded chastened."

I bit my lower lip, considering this new information. I'd hoped I might be able to appeal to Anne to help arrange a way to speak openly with Mery away from the prying eyes and ears at Roscarrock House. It sounded like she would be amenable. But there was one more factor to consider.

"Did they seem…?" I broke off, uncertain how to tactfully voice my query.

Bree knew what I meant. "Nay," she stated with a conviction I found both reassuring and surprising. "?'Tis obvious they care for each other. But they're no' lovers."

I nodded, trusting her judgment. After all, she was as insightful in her own way as I was. I'd realized that almost the moment I'd met her, and her intuitions had proven invaluable enough times since then for me to trust her discernment now.

"If I asked you to deliver a message to Mrs. Wolcott, would you do it? I know it's outside the realm of your duties. But I don't trust any of the Roscarrock servants, and Anderley…"

Bree's expression grew tight.

I sighed. "Well, frankly, I don't know what's come over him. Have you spoken with him?"

She shook her head.

"There must be some sort of explanation," I insisted, trying to convince myself as much as Bree. "Some reason he's distanced himself." Some reason he was treating us all rather shabbily. It was simply too drastic a change in character.

I watched as Bree set down the hairbrush and began plating my hair to be formed into loops. I'd hoped she might have some sort of insight about him as well. Something I'd missed. But perhaps she was too close to the problem.

Regardless, I couldn't bear to see Bree looking so unhappy. I was certain Gage knew more than he was saying, and I vowed I would press him about it the moment I had a chance.

With that intention in mind, as soon as I'd finished dressing, I dashed off a note for Anne and passed it into Bree's safekeeping to be delivered. Then I hastened to find my husband. He was already waiting with his father near the stables, presumably anxious for us all to be off to question Mr. Cuttance. As such, I had to stifle my questions about Gage's valet once again.

I pulled my riding gloves onto my hands and mounted my strawberry roan Figg. The rain had ceased, but the sky overhead was still choked with clouds as we set off toward Port Isaac. The road was riddled with puddles, and I knew within minutes the train of my sage green riding habit would be splattered with mud, but still I longed to urge Figg into a trot. Anything to alleviate some of the tension that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my frame. However, Lord Gage kept our pace rigidly to a walk—for our safety as well as the horses—on the pockmarked lane.

Our first destination was the Golden Lion, for the last time we'd spoken with the preventive officer turned local constable he'd been emerging from the tavern. We also needed to verify Mery's alibi, or at least verify approximately what time he'd arrived and departed the previous evening. However, it appeared Mr. Cuttance had already caught wind of Branok's deception, for the expression on his face when we encountered him around a bend in the road could be described as nothing short of thunderous.

"Out of my way, Gage," he snarled at my father-in-law. "I'm goin' to flay the Killigrews alive, and Mery, too. You'll not stop me."

"Why would we stop you?" Lord Gage drawled in retort, reining in his steed so that he blocked the center of the road.

Cuttance seemed momentarily taken aback by this response.

"Though might I suggest arresting them instead." Lord Gage's eyes sharpened. "Unless that's the problem?"

Gage drew his chestnut gelding Titus up next to his father. "Hmm. Yes. I suppose he'd also have to detain himself for dereliction of duty."

Cuttance's face flushed red. "Is that your game, then? Ye intend to blame this entire farce on me?"

"No," Lord Gage replied in a clipped voice. "But you're either part of the conspiracy or wholly incompetent."

The constable spluttered in outrage, seemingly unable to form full sentences, and I feared for a moment that he was about to have an apoplexy. "Now, see here…How dare…! I'll have you…"

"We found your latest bribe," Gage informed him.

He broke off, his eyes bulging in the face of both Gages' calm implacableness. "I don't know what you're talkin' about," he replied much too late to be believed.

"Of course you do," Lord Gage said. "It's the same place my grandfather used to hide bribes for your father. The hollowed-out log inland of Lobber Point." He turned to his son. "You would think in the last forty-odd years they might have chosen a more honorable course, or at least a different hiding spot, but then the Cuttances were never known for their cleverness."

"Clever enough to catch you red-handed," Cuttance snapped back.

But my father-in-law refused to be riled. "As a child of eleven. Hardly a challenge."

"I wonder what his superiors will say when they learn he's been taking bribes in exchange for turning a blind eye to the smuggling that's still going on," Gage posited.

"Misled the jury at the coroner's inquest as well," his father replied, maintaining the same blithe tone as his son.

I hovered behind them, observing the exchange as I would a theater production. Although I'd known Gage had conducted inquiries alongside and on behalf of his father for years before we'd met, I'd rarely seen them at work together, and only under strained circumstances. Now I felt like I was being given a glimpse into what their collaborations had been like during the early years, before Gage had refused to conform to his father's every wish, causing their initial rift.

Cuttance, on the other hand, was not enjoying himself so much.

"I did not mislead anyone," he snarled. "I believed Branok was dead. Nay one could survive a fall from that cliff! How was I to know they lied?"

Lord Gage's voice dripped with scorn. "By verifying there was even a body."

Cuttance fumed, grinding out his words. "I trusted Dr. Wolcott."

"Who wed Branok's niece's daughter."

The preventive officer made no response to this, and I couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of empathy for the man. Had Branok truly fallen from that cliff, his body would have been in a horrific state. While in his capacity as constable, he should have done his duty and verified the corpse's identity and the extent of its injuries to the best of his ability, but he should have also been able to trust the attending physician not to lie about its very existence.

If Cuttance was telling the truth…And I had little doubt he was. The man was no skilled actor. Then he had every reason to be furious. Branok and his relatives had not only duped but humiliated him, and possibly cost him at least one of his positions. The local magistrate would have to learn the truth sooner or later, and when he did, it was liable Cuttance would be disciplined in some manner.

"As for the smuggling," Cuttance growled, "just because I take the man's blunt doesn't mean I'm actually lookin' the other way, now, does it?"

"Without Branok the wiser?" Lord Gage asked doubtfully.

"Aye!" He puffed up his rounded stomach like an affronted robin. "Let's just say, not all of his relations are rogues."

Titus's head bobbed slightly, and Gage lowered his hand to rub his flank, calming him. "Then you know about the shipment they expect soon."

I straightened, wondering when he'd learned this bit of intelligence.

Cuttance glowered at him. "The two shipments they expect? Aye."

Gage nodded in assent. Clearly, he'd been testing him.

"If you know about that, how is it that you didn't know Branok had feigned his death?" Lord Gage challenged. "Or perhaps you did and decided instead to take revenge."

"Then I would be an even bigger fool than ye take me for," Cuttance replied, his horse dancing to the side. "Had I known Branok was alive, I woulda dragged 'is sorry carcass before the magistrate."

"Or tossed him over a cliff, in truth," Gage suggested. "Lost to the sea."

Cuttance eyed him with a disfavor that softened to begrudging admittance. "Aye. Maybe." His gaze darted back to Lord Gage. "But I certainly wouldn't 'ave left 'is corpse to be found now."

There was an undeniable logic to his thinking, for Branok being found dead after Cuttance had unwittingly abetted Branok's feigned death and burial was the worst thing that could have happened for the constable. If he'd been able to apprehend him, it would not have entirely mitigated his disgrace, but he might have at least saved his position. Or if Branok had simply disappeared, and there was no body to be found, then it would have been his word against those who had already lied. That is, if any of Branok's relatives had even raised an objection.

However, my father-in-law wasn't about to take him at his word. "Where were you yesterday afternoon between four and six o'clock?"

The leaves still clinging to the trees overhead clattered together as a sudden gust of wind swooped down the road. It splattered us with water, but none of the men moved. Cuttance plainly didn't appreciate having the tables turned to have such a question asked of him, and judging from Lord Gage's rigid posture he had no intention of backing down until he had an answer. However, Cuttance's old dapple gray appeared to have had more than enough of the tense silence, for he grunted, tugging at his owner's reins.

The constable sighed, reluctantly giving way. "I was meetin' with Anthony Knill."

I struggled to mask my surprise, for this was not what I'd expected to hear.

"He's your informant." Gage's words were more statement than question, but Cuttance answered him regardless.

"Aye. Though, truth be told, I suspect he gets most of his information from his wife."

He was probably right. As Bevil and Joan's daughter, Morgan was bound to learn more than her dissenter husband about the goings-on at Roscarrock House, but I would never have pegged her as an informant. Unless she didn't know her husband was sharing what she told him with the parish constable. If she did, then she kept her allegiances and duplicities well hidden.

"I thought Mr. Knill wasn't supposed to return from the market at St. Austell until today?" Lord Gage asked. At least, that was what Morgan had told us some days past.

Cuttance grunted. "Then he returned early. Ask 'im yourself." He urged his horse forward, forcing Gage and his father either to let him pass or confront him more directly. This time they opted to comply. After all, they'd gotten answers to their questions. Answers satisfactory enough to convince me that it was unlikely Cuttance was our killer.

We watched a moment as the preventive officer rode off in the direction we'd come, his horse kicking up an abominable amount of mud.

"Do we carry on to the Golden Lion or return to Roscarrock?" Gage asked.

"Perhaps we should visit the Knills," I suggested.

"No," Lord Gage asserted, his eyes still fastened on the back of the departing constable. "It's doubtful the proprietor at the Golden Lion will be able to tell us anything concrete about Mery's alleged alibi, and the Knills can wait. I want to be there when Cuttance questions my relatives."

I couldn't argue with his reasoning, and I had to admit I was also curious to see how Mery and the Killigrews reacted to Cuttance's queries. However, when he turned to ride after the constable at a faster clip, I restrained Figg to a walk.

"Just a moment," I told Gage.

He drew Titus up beside me. "What is it?" he asked in concern.

"You didn't tell me you'd learned the Roscarrocks were expecting two shipments of contraband."

He turned away even as I scrutinized his countenance. "It must have slipped my mind. The past few days certainly haven't lacked for distractions."

That was true, and yet I could tell there was more he wasn't telling me. And I had a strong suspicion why.

"Gage, where is Anderley?" When he kept his gaze directed resolutely ahead, I narrowed my eyes. "Why is he never about when we need him? And why have you been so tolerant of his abhorrent behavior?"

"Kiera…" he began on a breath that landed somewhere between exasperated and exhausted. "I would tell you if I—"

"No!" I cut him off, keeping my voice low so as not to alert his father riding ahead of us. "Do not give me that line. Bree and I have already been imagining the worst, and should something happen, we need to know whether he can still be trusted."

"Of course he can."

The look I gave him made it clear there was no of course about it. "Have you given him some sort of task like you did in Ireland? To blend in and…infiltrate."

A flash of irritation tightened his features, but then he relented, perhaps recognizing I would no longer believe his denials. "I asked Anderley to try to insinuate himself with the men on the Roscarrock staff who also act as smugglers."

I scowled at him, unhappy to discover my suspicions were correct.

"And in that effort," he continued before I could speak, "I told him to be a bit belligerent and neglectful of us. To make it seem like he's bitter and not a little resentful of his position in our employ, being dragged hither and yon with such a notorious master and mistress."

"Gage!" I gasped in outrage, making Figg's ears twitch.

"He had to play the part, Kiera," he protested. "It's the only way he could worm his way into their confidences. Charm is useless among such men. He had to make them believe his allegiance was mutable, and his skills as an adventurer, as well as his ability to speak French, were for sale."

"Aren't you putting him in terrible danger?"

"Which was why it was essential that his disdain for us be believable! Why we couldn't tell you or Miss McEvoy. Or Father. Your reactions had to be real."

I glared at him, unswayed by his appeal. "You should have discussed this with me. With all of us."

"There wasn't time. I didn't realize that the smuggling was truly continuing until the evening of the welcome party, and I knew that if Anderley was to make an impression on the smugglers, it had to be then."

It was difficult to argue. There had been little time to confer, though I refused to concede entirely. "You should have told me," I insisted, arching my chin. "I've become rather good at concealing my thoughts in the time since we first met."

"Not that good."

I frowned. "From you, maybe."

He didn't respond, and I elected to turn my attention to more pertinent objections. "You are asking a lot of him."

"No more than he is willing to do. Anderley likes the adventure," he told me and then chuckled. "Believe me. He's placed himself in far more precarious situations in the past."

Except in the past, there hadn't been Bree.

Even now, I could see Bree's worry-stricken face, hear the hurt and uncertainty ringing in her voice as we discussed Anderley. I knew it wasn't right to ask a person to change themselves for another person, but wasn't it fair to expect them to at least consider how their actions might affect them?

Some of my distress on Bree's behalf must have shown, for Gage gentled his voice, seeking to reassure me. "Don't worry, Kiera. Anderley knows how to take care of himself. I wouldn't have allowed him to embark on this undertaking otherwise."

Maybe so, but I was starting to believe he wasn't capable of taking care of Bree, no matter how much he cared for her.

Placing her firmly in mind, I quietly proclaimed, "I have to tell Bree."

His brow furrowed. "Kiera, you could be putting him in greater danger."

"Fiddle-faddle!" I snapped, borrowing one of my maid's phrases. "Bree would no more place him in danger than she would cut off her own arm, and you know it."

He opened his mouth as if to protest further and then closed it, shaking his head.

We rode on in silence for several minutes with nothing but the splash and squelch of the horses' hooves in the puddles and mud and the occasional call of a bird from the hedges bordering the road to accompany us. The breeze had picked up, swooshing down the lane and making me shiver in my woolen riding habit.

Gage moved Titus closer, resting his crop over his thighs. "You're chilled. Here. Take my coat."

"No," I said, holding up my hand to stop him from removing it. "I'm fine. Truly. It's not much farther now."

His gaze met mine as if to be certain. I recognized it as the olive branch he'd intended and did my best to keep my tone civil.

"Has Anderley been able to learn anything else about the shipments?"

"One is from Roscoff, France, hence his usefulness as a French speaker. They plan to anchor offshore outside territorial waters, like I told you."

"And then the Roscarrocks will row out to collect the cargo?" I asked, recalling our earlier discussion.

He nodded. "And the other is on its way to Bristol from the West Indies by way of the Scilly Isles, laden with tobacco and sugar, among other things."

I turned to him in surprise. "That's not something they could have arranged simply by sending someone over on the mail packet to France."

Gage's expression was solemn. "No. There must be a larger stakeholder. Someone with wealth and connections. From what I've learned, it's not uncommon in such ventures."

"Who?"

"I don't know. But even if we did, it's doubtful we'd be able to implicate them. Such a man would be certain to hide behind his lofty name and layers of inscrutability."

"Letting everyone else do the dirty work."

He turned to me; the shade of his eyes was made all the more blue by the cerulean hue of his waistcoat. "They might not even live in Cornwall. So you see the difficulty."

In our uncovering the larger stakeholder, yes. But also in the Roscarrocks extracting themselves from such an arrangement. After all, if the larger stakeholder had put forth much of the capital and reaped the greater benefits with almost no risk to themselves, they were not likely to allow the Roscarrocks to end their agreement so easily.

I wondered if this was something Lord Gage had ever considered. Or was he determined to see his mother's family as the villains no matter the circumstances?