Chapter 6

Gage found me thirty minutes later contentedly rocking our daughter in a chair which had been moved into the spare bedchamber along with a cradle. I was feeling relieved and far more comfortable than I had in days. Not only had Emma nursed, but we also weren't being rattled about in a carriage, and we didn't have to anticipate the same mistreatment on the morrow. As such, the rocking which had lulled my daughter to sleep was close to doing the same to me, especially as the last traces of sunlight streaming through the windows softened and waned.

Gage smiled down at us, his pale blue eyes warm with affection. Without speaking, he gestured to the bell-pull, and I nodded for him to summon Mrs. Mackay. True to her word, the nanny had worked her wonders on Emma, soothing her enough that she would settle down to feed. Her cheeks were now pale pink rather than fiery red and her golden curls sprang about her head without her cap, drying from the gentle washing they'd received.

I slowed my rocking and then stopped, hoping Emma would remain asleep. When she didn't stir, Gage gently lifted her from my arms and laid her in the cradle. She snuffled and we both stilled until we were certain she'd fallen back into slumber. I closed my eyes, murmuring a prayer of gratitude.

Gage pointed to Rosie, our daughter's ragdoll discarded on the table nearby. It was twisted hopelessly out of shape and sodden from Emma's slobber. I shook my head, trusting Mrs. Mackay had packed the extra ragdolls Bree had made our daughter so that this Rosie could be washed while Emma was none the wiser. Then he helped me rise from the chair. I groaned lightly as I stood, feeling twinges in my back from the four days confined to a traveling coach.

Hobbling forward, we made our way to the door, turning left to enter our bedchamber as Mrs. Mackay came bustling down the corridor on the right. A second set of stairs must lie in that direction. She nodded to us, and we disappeared into the corner bedchamber.

The walls, like those downstairs, were whitewashed stone and bare except for a small, oval mirror and a single shelf boasting a dancing figurine and a small bud vase absent of flowers. An old but well-cared-for set of walnut furniture filled the space, including a canopied bed, clothespress, and dressing table. The scent of the wood polish that had been used to bring it to a shine still hung in the air. Ivory drapes adorned the windows and bed, and an ivory counterpane embroidered with tiny yellow flowers marching across it in eight intersecting lines covered the feather mattress. The most colorful item in the room was a handwoven rug in deep red which lay across the dark wooden floor beside the bed.

While tending to Emma, I'd heard muffled voices coming from the room as Bree and Anderley unpacked and arranged our things, and I could see the evidence of their earlier presence. My hairbrush and a few bottles were neatly arranged along the dressing table, as were Gage's shaving implements. A nightdress and wrapper were draped across the left side of the bed while a cornflower blue morning dress hung on the outside of the wardrobe to air out. I spied Gage's nightshirt and dressing gown arranged over the back of a ladder-back chair in the corner. However, our maid and valet had since retreated, presumably to locate their own accommodations for the duration of our stay.

"Where's your father?" I asked as he closed the door, curious if Lord Gage's assigned bedchamber was nearby.

Gage paused to light a brace of candles to combat the darkness before moving toward the edge of the bed to sink down. "He said he needed to stretch his legs."

My eyes widened, for this presumably meant he'd ventured outside. Following Bevil?

"Is that wise?" I asked.

Gage shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe not, but who am I to argue." His lips twisted. "I'm not my father's keeper."

The bitterness of this comment surprised me, and then I recalled that while I'd been contending with a squalling infant inside an enclosed carriage all day, he had ridden twenty or more miles with mainly his father for company.

I sat beside him. "I take it today's travel was no more enjoyable for you than it was for me."

Rather than answer—perhaps because it was self-explanatory—he asked a question of his own. "Did Emma cry the entire journey?"

I heaved a weary sigh. "Just about."

His brow furrowed in empathy. "Poor darling. And poor you."

"And poor Mrs. Mackay and Bree. None of us could comfort her."

He grimaced. "I take it, then, that you're not looking forward to the journey back to civilization?"

I grimaced in turn. "Why don't we trade. I'll ride on horseback with your father, and you can travel in the carriage with Emma."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. We'll both have to suffer from a fair amount of grumbling."

"Was his leg paining him?"

He nodded. "I caught him rubbing it a few times. Though I don't know how severely." He kneaded his hands up and down over the tight riding breeches encasing his thighs, telling me he was suffering from a few twinges himself. Even with all the riding he'd been doing in recent months at his father's Warwickshire estate, he wasn't accustomed to the length he'd spent in the saddle today.

"Can I help?"

He followed my gaze to his hands, telling me he hadn't been entirely conscious of what he was doing. As his eyes met mine, the air began to thicken between us. "Not now. But…" His gaze dipped to my lips. "Later."

I swallowed, feeling a pulse of anticipation despite my fatigue. "What did you think of them?" I asked, trying to divert my thoughts away from his powerful thighs and how attractive he looked even splattered with mud, his jaw shadowed with stubble. "The Roscarrocks. Or rather, the Killigrews," I clarified. "Did Tristram tell you anything of interest after I left?"

"They…" he narrowed his eyes, compressing his lips as if searching for the right words "…were not what I expected."

"Dolly said much the same thing about us," I replied, reaching down to untie my kid leather half-boots.

"I suppose that was inevitable, given the fact we were forming our opinions of each other based purely on speculation and hearsay." He leaned back against his hands. "But Tristam seems like a decent chap. Though he clearly doesn't think much of Mery."

"None of them do."

"I'm curious to meet him."

I carefully extricated one foot and then the other from my boots, trying not to dislodge any of the dried mud. "If something happened to Mery, I suppose that would mean the estate would pass to one of Swithun's heirs," I ruminated.

"Most likely."

In Britain, inheritance usually passed to the heirs of the body following the male line, making Margaret and Amelia's children ineligible. Even though the Roscarrocks boasted no titles, and so were not bound by the hereditary laws of the peerage, it was doubtful they possessed any sort of patent stating otherwise.

I lifted my skirts to begin unrolling one stocking and then the other. "Then I suppose if Great-Uncle Branok was murdered, it removes inheritance as a potential motive for the Killigrews. Though it gives a fairly strong one to Mery."

"Maybe," Gage hedged.

I looked up at him to find him eyeing my legs. "You don't think it gives Mery a motive?"

"Oh, undoubtedly. A point that the Killigrews made certain we were aware of."

I allowed my skirts to fall back into place. "You think they did so on purpose?"

"Maybe."

I scowled at him.

"It's merely interesting to note." He sat forward. "How long do you think it would take to contact Swithun or his heirs and wrinkle out who would inherit the Roscarrock estate? And who's to say Swithun or his progeny would even want to travel to England to take possession? It's a long journey. Either way, it would take months, if not years, before any changes could be made."

"I suppose I follow your reasoning," I conceded, reaching up to loosen his cravat from around his neck. "But wouldn't that give them more motive to kill Mery than Great-Uncle Branok? After all, Branok was nearing eighty, while Mery must be less than half that."

His lips curled into a resigned smile. "It's simply a supposition, Kiera. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We don't even know if Great-Aunt Amelia's suspicions are correct."

"Suspicions Dolly seemed to indicate the rest of the family didn't share," I informed him just as there was a rap on the door.

Gage looked as if he wanted to ask me to explain further, but instead he called out for whoever was knocking to enter.

The door opened to reveal Bree carrying a stack of towels while Anderley followed close behind with an ewer full of water. They both looked tired, but I noticed they'd at least had the opportunity to change out of their muddy traveling attire.

"Is Emma settled?" my maid asked as she set the towels beside the washstand.

"Yes. Hopefully for most of the night," I said. "What of you? Are your accommodations satisfactory?" I glanced at Gage. "Albeit a bit more cozy than usual."

Roscarrock House was by no means small, but it also wasn't a massive manor like those owned by many of the members of the nobility we often socialized with and undertook inquiries on behalf of. I estimated it boasted perhaps eight bedrooms, though with so many family members already living here, that limited the number of guest chambers available. Being medieval in origin, there was no floor below ground for the servants, nor had a third floor been added above where their quarters might be housed. As such, I suspected a servant wing had been constructed adjacent to the main residence.

"Aye, I'm to share wi' Dolly Killigrew's maid. She seems friendly enough." Bree cast a teasing look at the valet. "Anderley's no' so lucky."

His face constricted as he set the ewer beside the washbasin. "They believed they were doing me a kindness by allowing me to share with Lembus."

I grimaced, knowing how little Anderley liked Lord Gage's valet. Truth be told, Lembus was a pompous little toad, so I didn't blame him.

"If we had a dressing room, I'd suggest you make a pallet there," Gage told him.

Anderley clasped his hands behind his back. "Apparently, Lord Gage's superior room possesses a small adjoining chamber." It was clear by his supercilious tones that he was imitating the other valet. "So perhaps he'll tire of me and decide to sleep there." The sparkle in his eyes told me that he intended to help persuade Lembus to that conclusion.

I shook my head, struggling to withhold my amusement, for I knew from past experience just how persistent Anderley could be.

"As long as I don't have to hear about it from my father," Gage warned with a chuckle. "Now, give me the lay of the land."

Anderley nodded, producing a hastily drawn map from the inner pocket of his frock coat, which he unfolded on top of the dressing table. We all gathered around it as he pulled the brace of candles closer and began to explain.

"The main house forms a sort of rectangle with a courtyard more or less at its center. However, the western edge is merely a thick curtain wall with an arched opening leading to another outer courtyard enclosed on three sides." He pointed at the southwestern corner of the house. "The servants' wing adjoins the manor here, and the coach house here." At the northwest corner. "Abutting the house to the south are the gardens, and beyond that a number of fields. While to the north, opposite the main drive are several barns, outbuildings, and granaries, as well as a handful of cottages."

"What of this?" Gage asked, indicating a large oval southwest of the house, beyond the servants' wing.

"That's a pond. A drainage channel runs west away from it toward Port Quin, eventually turning into a small stream. The channel is dry now, but I suspect the pond spills over into it rather quickly during heavy rains."

Based on the look the two men shared, I could tell they each held suspicions about this convenient feature and what else it might be put to use for.

Gage's hand swept over the map along the scraggly sketched coast from Port Quin nearly to Port Isaac. "And all of this is more or less Roscarrock property?"

"Yes, as well as a sizable portion farther inland."

"You managed to uncover all of this just since our arrival?" I remarked in astonishment.

Anderley's lips curved into a furtive smile, leaving me to wonder how much of this was discovered by reconnaissance and how much by charming the information out of others.

"He had a bit o' help," Bree leaned over to whisper in a teasing tone. But rather than be annoyed by her interference as he might have in the past, he simply smiled wider.

I chose not to remark upon it, but the romance that had blossomed and then withered, only to blossom again between our personal servants was definitely near full bloom. Though it was difficult at times, I'd largely followed my husband's advice not to pry into their personal lives. Not unless they volunteered the information themselves. But there had been indications that Bree had finally decided to encourage Anderley's renewed overtures. Bright eyes and secretive little smiles and moments when she responded to my summons looking a little more breathless and rumpled than usual.

I turned to my husband, curious if he'd noticed their covert exchange, but he was leaning over the table, studying the map again.

"Great-Aunt Amelia has promised to explain her suspicions to us in the morning, and then we'll wish to see the place where Great-Uncle Branok's body was found." Gage looked up at his valet. "In the meantime, I need you both to keep your eyes and ears open," he informed them. "The family may be inclined to secrecy, but I'm hopeful their staff won't be so circumspect."

"They havena shared what troubles 'em aboot Branok Roscarrock's death, then?" Bree asked, having read between the lines. Her eyes darted between us, seeking clarification.

"No." Gage's brow furrowed. "Truth be told, they were more interested in discussing just about anyone else."

"I noted that as well," I said, tucking a few stray strands of my chestnut brown hair behind my ear. "Branok is the reason we're here. Yet none of them seemed in a great hurry to speak of him. Or his death."

A loud creak echoed through the chamber, reminding me of the sound of someone stepping on a loose floorboard. However, the noise didn't come from the direction of the door or the corridor beyond, but along the outer wall to my left. I glanced toward it distractedly.

"Despite the fact he's now cold in the ground, he evidently still holds some degree of power in this house," Gage remarked. "Or rather, his influence does."

As if in answer, another creak rent the air, this one deeper, almost like a groan. All of us turned in the direction of the offending noise this time. The candlelight behind us cast our shadows large against the wall.

"I don't believe I saw shutters on any of the windows. At least, not on this side of the house. Did you?" I asked, seeking an explanation for the noise. One that would lower the hairs that had stood up on the back of my neck.

"I didn't notice any," my husband replied, sounding more puzzled than concerned.

However, Bree was obviously unsettled, even going so far as to latch on to Anderley's arm as she murmured some sort of plea to one of the saints.

"It's an old house, mia cara," he assured her. "They make strange noises."

This was the first time I'd heard Anderley use a term of endearment from his Italian heritage, and it temporarily diverted my attention. Long enough for Gage to stride across the room and brush aside the drapes. "Easily medieval in origin," he confirmed as he leaned forward to examine the window casing. "Father told me the first farmhouse here was built during the twelfth century."

"Then I suppose it would be odder if the place didn't creak and moan," I supplied, trying to make light of the matter.

"Aye," Bree agreed, though she sounded unconvinced.

"Regardless, it's been a long four days," I added. "So perhaps we should all get some rest."

The men agreed, but Bree continued to stare at the window even as Gage allowed the drapes to fall back into place, her fingers gripping the crucifix which I knew lay beneath the bodice of her high-necked sprig green gown.

"Can this wait until morning to soak?" I prodded her, lifting the mud-streaked hem of my carriage dress. My bare toes poked out beneath.

She nodded hesitantly at first and then with more confidence. "Aye. 'Tis better if it dries completely. Wi' any luck, I'll be able to brush most o' it off. But I'll take your boots noo," she informed me, spotting them next to the bed.

Anderley instructed Gage likewise before helping him to remove his riding boots, which like all the best-quality attire had been crafted to mold to the owner's foot.

As the door closed behind our personal servants, our boots in hand, I presented my back to Gage so that he could begin unfastening my garments. Normally, Bree would have undressed me, but given our close quarters and everyone's need for sleep, this was the best alternative. Besides, my husband had played lady's maid for me plenty of times before. It was a skill at which he rather excelled.

"We don't need to worry that Miss McEvoy will allow her imagination to run away with her, do we?" he asked as his fingers moved nimbly down the buttons.

I knew to what he referred. Bree did tend to believe in the supernatural more easily than my pragmatic husband or his valet. She was Scottish, after all. As I was half-Scottish. But that didn't mean either of us were unbound by reason.

"No. I trust her to keep a good head on her shoulders." I turned my head so that I could see him out of the corner of my eye. "Though I'll remind you that even you have experienced things you can't explain."

His grunt didn't precisely signal agreement. "Perhaps. But an old house settling isn't one of them."

"Give her some grace. It's been a tiring day. And she didn't choose to travel here. We did."

He spun me around to face him, my gown and pair of stays gaping open at the back. "True." He heaved a long sigh, bending forward so that his forehead touched mine. "It has been a tiring day."

"Hmmm," I hummed as I began to unbutton his deep blue waistcoat and then his fine lawn shirt. "And it's made you a bit cranky."

He straightened. "Cranky?"

"Grumpy."

"Grumpy?"

A smile played at the corner of my lips. "Cross."

"Now, see here," he protested as I whirled away, dashing toward the other side of the bed, where he snatched me up as I gave a shriek of laughter. I covered my mouth, mindful of Emma sleeping next door.

He tumbled me across the bed before following me down. "I'll show you cross," he vowed, before pressing his lips to my neck. I moaned in pleasure as his mouth found the spot behind my ear that never failed to send licks of heat through me.

However, the second groan didn't come from me, but once again the window.

Gage broke off his courteous attentions to glare at it. "If it's going to do that all night, I truly will become cross."

I plunged my fingers into his golden hair, turning his gaze back to meet mine as I trailed my foot up his leg. "Then I'll simply have to distract you."

I didn't have to make the suggestion twice.