Chapter 27

"Of course your aunt would make such claims about us," Tamsyn declared after giving a derisive laugh. "She couldn't very well point the finger back at her own family," she jeered, settling back in her armchair.

Upon our arrival at her home, I'd been surprised and then intrigued to find her dressed in breeches. Even more surprising, Lord Gage had barely batted an eyelash at it, remarking, "You always did prefer men's attire."

"Because it's far more comfortable," she'd replied breezily, leading us into the chamber that served as her drawing room. "Far more practical as well. Kiera, dear," she addressed me, "I see that I've shocked ye."

"Not shocked me, no. It's just…unexpected," I settled on. In truth, I was trying to imagine my father-in-law reacting with such aplomb to my appearing in a pair of trousers, let alone receiving visitors in them. I tilted my head, studying the garment where it molded to Tamsyn's thighs. "Though I admit I have wondered what they would feel like."

Time and again, I had contemplated how much more suitable men's clothing was to the act of painting. It was bad enough that I had to contend with the puffed sleeves which were now so in vogue, but my skirts also hampered my movements as I worked on the portraits in my studio. How freeing it would be to wear just a pair of breeches, a chemisette, a linen shirt, and perhaps a waistcoat.

"Then ye should try them," Tamsyn told me. "Gentlemen always make such a fuss at the notion, but find that they're not opposed to the idea once they see the results."

I peered over my shoulder at my husband, curious about his reaction, only to find his eyes fastened on my lower extremities. I arched a single eyebrow, pursing my lips in amusement as his gaze lifted to meet mine. It seemed I had my answer. Though it remained to be seen how much painting I would be getting done if I tried wearing such garments with my husband nearby.

But observing Tamsyn now—holding court in her agreeable, but far from opulent, drawing room, deriding Great-Aunt Amelia—I suspected she wore breeches for a far different reason than mere practicality. For one, they were symbolic. For another, they at least allowed for the illusion that you were conferring with a man. If any of the Grenville males resisted the idea of being led by a woman, perhaps this helped them delude themselves into believing it actually wasn't so.

"What do you mean, pointing the finger back at her own family?" I asked, curious what version of events she had to tell.

"We all know it was Swithun who betrayed us about the treasure."

"Branok's brother?" Gage clarified. "The one who immigrated to Pennsylvania?"

"Aye," Tamsyn confirmed, leaning forward to brace her elbows on her knees. "Why do ye think he suddenly up and immigrated? When we discovered the truth, your granfer 'ad to send 'im far away before we could take revenge."

"But why?" I asked in bewilderment. "Why would Swithun betray his own family?"

"Because he wanted Branok out of the way. That was the deal he made with the preventives. With Branok dead, that would clear the way for Swithun to inherit." She picked up an apple from the table beside her and produced a knife from somewhere on her person to begin slowly peeling the red skin in one long curl. "There are some in the family who would've preferred it that way."

Considering how little Branok was liked, this was not difficult to believe. If his son Casworan had not yet been born, that left a clear path for Swithun to inherit. But if Branok had been the target, that didn't explain how everything had gone so terribly wrong and Jago was killed instead of him. Unless…

"Who ordered you and Jago to transport the contraband that night?" I asked my father-in-law.

He looked up at me, having been lost in his own thoughts, and it seemed to take him a moment to grasp the implications of my question. "I…I'm not certain I recall. But it was probably either my grandfather or…or Uncle Branok." His jaw hardened with anger, but I could also see the hurt and disillusionment glinting in his eyes.

If Branok had discovered his brother Swithun's betrayal, if he'd known the preventives intended to ambush him that night and had sent Jago and his nephew Stephen out instead…

"Maybe he thought the authorities would be more lenient to two boys," Gage suggested, but I could tell that even he thought this excuse flimsy at best.

Tamsyn, meanwhile, was eyeing us all avidly as she finished peeling her apple. She put me in mind of a spider spinning her web, and for that fact and that fact alone, I doubted the veracity of her claims. Though I had to concede her cleverness in accusing someone who rather conveniently lived thousands of miles away and could not defend himself.

Whatever the truth of that night, Tamsyn was undoubtedly seeking to use the situation that now lay before us to her benefit. But while I was leery of her and Gage seemed guarded, Lord Gage appeared to swallow everything she said whole. At least, he gave no indication of mistrust. And that infuriated me, for she was playing on their past friendship and their mutual close connection to Jago to manipulate him. Just as she continued to do with her next statement.

"Bein' too young at the time, I was never privy to the specifics. But it's interestin' to note that Jago was the one they shot," she drawled, rubbing more salt into the wound.

"Yet I was taller," Lord Gage supplied, clearly filling in the gaps in her implications.

"But surely that's just a coincidence," I protested, finding her insinuations to be a step too far. "All of this happened in the dark of night, remember. The preventive officers must have fired their weapons at your fleeing figures, likely still believing one of you to be Branok, and happened to hit Jago."

"And once they realized they'd not gotten Branok, as promised, they took out their anger and frustration on you," Gage supplied, watching his father closely.

"They hadn't gotten the treasure either," I reminded them. "Not much of it, anyway."

"Nay," Tamsyn replied as if it had been a question. "No' unless old Cuttance was better at keepin' secrets than any of us believed."

"What do you know about the treasure?" I queried, resisting the urge to scowl at the crossed cutlasses hung over the fireplace behind her. The lack of art hanging in the room was another thing I was struggling not to tally against her. I'd considered the possibility that she or the Grenvilles had been forced to sell such works, but there were no faded marks on the walls to indicate their absence. A house this size should have boasted at least half a dozen portraits and landscapes, but thus far, I'd seen none. And people who eschewed art of even the frugal variety made me suspicious.

"Only that it came from a wrecked ship." Her mouth quirked wryly. "Albeit not from the King of Portugal."

So the droll teller's tale had prodded her memory as well. Though I noticed she hadn't mentioned anything about it to us until now.

"?'Twas the talk of this stretch of the coast all that winter. Half the populace must've traveled up to 'elp pick it clean once the worst of the storm had died down. I wanted to go, but my granny forbade it. Made me angrier than a wasp. Ye must remember it," she told Lord Gage.

He shook his head. "I vaguely remember talk of it when I came to visit during Easter holiday."

"That's right. Ye were back home in Devon when that tempest hit." Her eyes took on a faraway cast as if seeing into the past. "?'Twas a fierce one. Blew for almost three days straight. Must've been dozens of ships driven into the rocks offshore and wrecked all up and down the coast of Cornwall."

"Were any of the crew saved?" I asked.

"Aye. Several dozen, includin' the captain. Though they were none too 'appy to watch their cargo disappear across the beach and up over the cliffs. For months after, there were preventive officers and soldiers and the like sniffin' all over the area tryin' to locate it."

If that was true, then it was no wonder the Roscarrocks had waited so long before attempting to transport the treasure from wherever they'd originally hid it. I eyed my father-in-law. It also explained why the magistrate had been so hard on Lord Gage when he sentenced him. It hadn't been any ordinary cargo he'd been apprehended with in his possession. Someone had to pay, and sadly it had been him.

I wondered if he was having similar thoughts. Judging from his pained expression, he seemed to be contemplating something of the sort. Or maybe Tamsyn's words were helping him to remember what he believed he'd forgotten. Perhaps the memories were still trapped somewhere in his brain, he just needed a pick, a prod to help unbury them from the rubble of that difficult time and the sediment of all the years since.

"Did you and Jago ever talk about the treasure with his lordship?" I asked Tamsyn while observing my father-in-law's reaction.

He immediately scowled, first at me and then at his old friend when she answered. "All the time. One of our favorite games was to speculate 'ow much treasure there was and where it was hidden. We even searched for it ourselves. Though we rightly suspected our parents and grandparents would've whipped us if they'd known what we were doin'."

"I don't remember any of that," he objected.

She tsked. "You were the worst of us. Always makin' plans to scour one site or another. First that abandoned cottage near Pentireglaze, then the barrows near Hayle Bay, and the mine shafts at Doyden Point. Even a pair of sea caves we almost drowned tryin' to swim into."

Lord Gage had shaken his head through all this and now pushed to his feet. "I told you I don't remember!"

Tamsyn glared up at him. "Maybe ye don't want to."

He strode indignantly out of the room, and Gage excused himself to follow.

I hesitated a moment. Perhaps I shouldn't have pried, but anything and everything seemed to vex the man lately. Not that I blamed him. There was a lot to be vexed about. But it was difficult to grasp what would help him, to know when to push and when to relent.

"He'll remember when he's ready."

I turned to find Tamsyn watching me. Despite the compassion glinting in her eyes, I'd not forgotten my suspicions about her or the way she was attempting to influence my father-in-law. "And if he doesn't?" Either because he couldn't or because there was actually nothing to remember.

Her lips curled into a private smile. "I think we both know the answer to that."

What I knew was that she meant to imply Lord Gage was hiding something. But I wasn't about to let the woman sow her sly seeds of suspicion in me. I wasn't fertile soil.

Rising from the settee, I thanked her and turned to leave, but her voice stopped me at the threshold. "A word of advice, Mrs. Gage."

It didn't escape my notice that she'd called me Kiera but minutes earlier. "Now, why does it sound like you meant to say ‘a word of warning,'?" I rejoined.

Tamsyn shrugged one shoulder. "It's your choice how ye choose to interpret it. I merely meant to counsel ye to take a closer look at those nearer to home. After all, Branok wasn't the only one determined to find that treasure. And if he was desperate enough to fake his own death to draw his nephew and his family here, how desperate do ye think the others will be now that Branok's ploy didn't work?"

The hairs along the back of my neck stood on end, but I was determined not to show her she'd unnerved me. "Where were you yesterday between four and six o'clock?" It was a question we'd neglected to ask, and one that needed answering, though I already knew not to trust whatever answer she gave.

She laughed shortly. "I'm the least of your troubles. But if ye must know…" Her eyes narrowed. "I never left Grenville land."

Her relish of that statement was incongruent with its substance, which made me suspect there was some hidden meaning I didn't yet understand. So I simply turned to go, and then wondered if I was as foolish as Branok had been turning his back on his killer.

Much as I tried not to let Tamsyn's words affect me, I found myself increasingly chary of those around me and questioning whether we should even still be there. No one had raised the suspicion of Lord Gage being the murderer since Bevil's shouted accusations early that morning. Mr. Cuttance hadn't even bothered to question him, though he seemed to be investigating Branok's latest death with far more fervor than he had his previous feigned one. Perhaps it would be best to simply leave the matter in his hands.

But then I would spy Dolly's anxious features or hear Bevil's fractious voice. Suspect or no suspect, his uncle's murder had shaken him. Just as it had shaken Mery, who now hovered at the edges of every gathering rather than disappearing into a decanter of brandy or off on his own pursuits. I'd even learned that upon our return from Dr. Wolcott's he'd slept in his uncle's former bedchamber upstairs rather than repairing to his cottage. Did he fear being caught out alone and unawares, and incapacitated by his own drinking? Or was he worried about being found out? I tried multiple times to draw him off into relative privacy to speak with him as I'd hoped Anne might arrange, but he either resisted or soon after someone else joined us.

Whatever the reason for Mery's reticence and everyone else's interference, I was exasperated. In fact, I was tempted to wash my hands of him and leave him to his fate, whatever it might be. Only the recognition that my lack of sleep was making me ill-tempered kept me from making a remark I would certainly regret.

Rather than endure dinner with the lot of them, I nursed Emma and then rested for an hour before having a tray sent up. I urged Bree to stay, asking her if she'd learned anything since we'd spoken in the garden that morning.

"No' much, m'lady," she replied with a sigh that reminded me she hadn't gotten any more sleep than I had. She sank down on the bench before the dressing table as I directed her to. "Least, no' much that's verifiable or worth repeatin'. There's an awful lot o' rumors aboot the treasure, and most o' those were heard second- or thirdhand, and I suspect they've gotten jumbled in the tellin'."

"Such as?"

She looked up toward the ceiling. "Let's see. One maid told me a witch guards it, and no' one o' the good pellar kind, but a hag who sold a sailor a wind charm wit' oot warning him no' to open all three knots at once."

I nodded, having heard about the pellars from Mery and the wind charms from Dolly. The charms were naught but specially tied knots on a length of rope. Each knot supposedly contained a different type of wind that the witch had captured within. When a sailor released the knot, he would release the charm and summon whatever type of wind was secured within it. Each length of rope contained three knots holding three charms, though they were not to be used all at once or else one risked disaster. So it made sense that the more superstitious locals might believe the tempest had been caused by just such an occurrence.

"And one o' the stable lads claimed it's buried either beneath the altar at St. Endelienta's Church or her shrine," Bree added.

My eyebrows arched as I took a sip of the tea they'd sent up with my dinner. "I see." How exactly this would have been possible for two eleven-year-old boys to do, I didn't know, but perhaps he believed someone else had found it and buried it there after the fact. "Well, what of Cora?" I asked as I set the cup down. "Did she have anything else to say about Mery?"

"Nay." Bree began to worry the lace trim around her collar. "But she did have somethin' to say aboot Anderley."

I lowered my spoon filled with custard before taking a bite. "Anderley?"

"She said he'd been tellin' the others he might stay in Cornwall when you leave. That life here suited him better."

"But you must see, that's all part of his ruse," I reminded her, speaking in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper.

She nodded. "I ken. But I thought it was somethin' she might expect me to report to you."

"And I would report it to Mr. Gage, so we should react accordingly the next time we see him," I grasped. "Yes, you're right." I frowned down at my meal. "This sort of subterfuge becomes complicated rather quickly."

Shaking my head, I pushed my tray aside, deciding I'd had my fill even though I'd eaten less than half of it. I looked at Bree, expecting her to scold me for my lack of appetite, but she was lost in her own thoughts and clearly troubled by them. "What else did Cora have to say?"

She blinked in surprise, and for a moment I could tell she intended to deny that any other remarks had been made, but then her shoulders slumped. "She asked if I proposed to remain in Cornwall wi' him. And then suggested that his failure to share his plans wi' me first might be a sign he was havin' second thoughts aboot me." Her eyes narrowed in fury. "Acted all empathetic, but I could tell it was false. That she'd be only too happy to see me gone and for Anderley to stay."

"I'm sorry, Bree," I told her. "I guess she's shown you her true colors. But remember, Anderley's playing a part. He's not staying. Cora will discover soon enough that she's the one who's been misled."

"Misled, aye," she conceded, though she didn't sound certain of that.

"You…don't think Anderley has been misleading you, do you?"

"Nay." She pivoted to straighten the items laid out across the dressing table, muttering to herself as she did. "He's been quite clear on what he wants. I'm the one who's irrationally cautious. But we canna all be impulsive dreamers. Someone needs to be logical."

This sounded like an ongoing argument between the pair of them. One in which I wasn't sure I should interfere. Unless…

"Are you afraid he'll come to harm? Because, like I promised—"

"Nay," she cut me off. "I'm certain he'll emerge as unscathed as he always thinks he will." She turned to find me studying her in concern. "Ignore me." Her gaze lifted to my head. "Did ye wish me to repair your hair?"

I pressed my hand to my crown uncertainly. "Is it a mess?"

"No' awfully." But I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was being diplomatic.

"You'd best see to it, then." I rose to move to the bench she'd vacated.

She worked quietly as I ruminated on what she'd revealed about her relationship with Anderley. It was true that the valet was more spontaneous and intrepid than she was, but not recklessly so. At least, not usually. For he also possessed a good head on his shoulders and an appreciation for strategy. Meanwhile, Bree was more cautious and considered, but also not to excess. She enjoyed daring and adventure as much as the rest of us, or else she wouldn't be a member of our staff. It sounded to me like they were locked in opposing views over an issue and unable to find common ground. But much as I wanted to offer her advice on this, I knew that now was not the time. Not while she was unlikely to be receptive.

I glanced at my watch where it lay on the dressing table. And not when dinner would soon be ending, and I had a plan I wanted to put into motion.

It had occurred to me while I was supposed to be resting that interrogating everyone individually was not working. Normally, we took this approach because it tended to encourage witnesses and suspects to share more freely, and it allowed us the opportunity to corroborate evidence we'd heard from separate people.

However, in this instance, they were merely pointing the finger at each other or attempting to muddy the waters by dredging up possibly irrelevant history. If we could interview them all at once—first the Roscarrocks and then the wider range of suspects, including the Grenvilles—perhaps we might be able to separate the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. At the very least, once Mery heard how his relatives were directing suspicion toward him, it might convince him to finally share whatever information I felt certain he was guarding.

But before we could confront them, we needed to confer as investigators. If we had any hope of outwitting their ploys, we first had to be certain we each possessed all the known facts and understood their pertinence.

"After you've finished, I want you to notify Mr. Gage and his father that I need to speak with them in his lordship's sitting room," I told Bree. "And I need you to keep a watch for anyone attempting to eavesdrop. Enlist Lembus's help if need be. Lord Gage's imperious valet would undoubtedly relish such an assignment."

The glint in Bree's eyes told me she agreed.