my dressing gown and then settled a breakfast tray over my lap. In deference to the cold of Scotland and the castle, I noticed Gage had donned proper nightclothes for once, and even he drew his burgundy dressing gown over his shoulders against the chill. He urged Bree and Anderley to pull a chair or bench closer to the bed, and each drew up flanks on either side of the bed, next to their respective employer. Though this was only natural, I could tell that whatever animosity had flared up between them the night before was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
“Now, first things first,” Gage declared as he sliced a piece of sausage. “Has anything changed in regard to the arrival of our procurator fiscal from Selkirk?”
Anderley shook his head. “Last night, I overheard the footman Mr. Tait sent to inform Mr. Rodgers say that the man had been drunk as a wheelbarrow, but his butler had promised to inform him as soon as he regained consciousness.”
Gage nodded as he chewed and then swallowed. “Good.” His gaze slid sideways to meet mine. “Then Mrs. Gage should have time to do what needs to be done without interruption.”
I smiled tightly, the bite of dry toast I’d taken settling like a lump in my stomach.
“However, I shall need you to warn us if he arrives early, and distract him if necessary until Mrs. Gage is safely away.”
They both agreed, intimately familiar with the outrage and disgust I routinely encountered when people were confronted with my past involvement in my late husband’s anatomical dissections. The scandal surrounding it all was still too fresh, no thanks to the recent conviction and execution of the murderers known as the London Burkers, bodysnatchers turned killers—and men my late husband had possibly acquired human subjects from when he was alive. There was no need to explain our desire to keep my continued connection with the dead a secret. People might appreciate Gage’s and, by association, my investigative abilities when they found themselves in a troubling situation, but that did not mean they accepted the necessity for a gentlewoman possessing my unique education to examine a corpse.
Though the gossip and reproach surrounding me still stung, I had finally learned that the best approach to this vicious scandalmongering was simply to refuse to be cowed. I couldn’t stop people from saying or believing terrible things about me, but I could control my reaction to it. Rather than cower and slink away in shame, I could hold my head high and refuse to waste my breath or attention on those who only wished to castigate me. I’d learned that from the duchess, who had discovered early in her marriage that, even as a duchess, she had to demand respect, or it would be stripped from her.
“Since you’ve already distinguished the victim’s most likely cause of death, I suppose your chief aim will be attempting to uncover something that will either verify or establish his identity,” Gage remarked to me before he took a drink of black coffee.
“Yes,” I confirmed as I fingered the fine handle of my china teacup. “I informed Lady Helmswick last night that Lord Edward had tentatively suggested the victim might be her husband. I didn’t want her learning of our suspicions in some other way. That would be far too cruel. But we need definitive proof.”
“Did she think it was possible?”
“She insisted that Lord Helmswick was in Paris. That he could not possibly be lying dead in Sunlaws Castle’s crypt. But she also admits she hasn’t received any correspondence from him since he left.”
Anderley’s dark eyebrows rippled as if he were struggling to withhold his reaction, but Gage had no qualms about allowing his astonishment to show, as his fair ones arched high. Likewise, Bree’s expression grew more troubled.
“She insists this is nothing abnormal, that neither of them are great letter writers.”
“It’s not unheard of,” Gage admitted. “But to be gone over Christmas and Boxing Day, and even Hogmanay for you Scots, and not send a word of greeting to your wife and children seems rather harsh. He’s in Paris, for goodness’ sake. Not the edge of civilization.”
The answering gleam in Bree’s eyes communicated this had been her thought as well. She had spent a few days in late December visiting her family near Gretna, a day’s journey from my brother’s home along the border between Scotland and England—her first visit since accepting the post as my lady’s maid a year earlier.
My gaze shifted to