A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,87

Her mouth creased into a small smile. “Aye, m’lady.”

She pushed to her feet, lifted my tray, and moved toward the door. However, something made her hesitate and glance back at me. “When do ye think we’ll receive word from Anderley?”

If I’d needed confirmation that it was Anderley we were both speaking of in our previous exchange, this was it. I schooled my features so as not to display my reaction, for to be sure, she had revealed far more with her dithering and hesitance to speak than I supposed she wished.

“I doubt we shall hear from him before Monday,” I told her evenly, my gaze straying toward the windows where the snowstorm raged outside. It being only Saturday, that meant two days of waiting.

There was no need to express my worry over the weather, for it was stamped across Bree’s features as well. Snowstorms, cholera, and possibly a duplicitous escort. I could only pray nothing else stood in Anderley’s way. For the sake of his safety, but also because, for obvious reasons, I was anxious to see this inquiry resolved. I didn’t see how that was possible without determining once and for all whether the corpse was indeed Helmswick.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I lay on my left side, dozing again, when I heard the click of the door to the sitting room opening. Dressed in dark evening attire, his damp hair curling atop his head, Gage checked his progress into the room at the sight of me gazing up at him. I suspected I looked quite a slovenly sight, having lounged in bed all day. What I could see of my braid dangling over my shoulder was frayed and fuzzy, and I could feel a dull ache beginning in my side, telling me it was almost time for another dose of laudanum.

Nevertheless, Gage’s expression softened as he looked down at me, his supple mouth curling in a gentle smile. “I’m pleased to see you’re obeying the surgeon’s instructions.” He shifted aside a pair of books I had been perusing earlier so that he could perch next to me. “Though it must be killing you to lie there when there is a murder to be solved.”

I arched my eyebrows at his clumsy wording. “Yes, well, I haven’t been completely unproductive.”

“Oh?”

I ignored the implied question in favor of my own. “Did you speak with that footman who says he helped Helmswick into his carriage the morning he departed?”

If he was surprised Bree had told me as much, he didn’t show it. “I did.”

“Do you think he was being honest?”

He shifted position, pulling his leg up onto the bed so he could face me more directly while he contemplated the matter. “I’m not sure,” he admitted with a small frown. “He seemed like he was being honest, but as I’m sure you’ve already noted, he has a great deal to be either gained or lost depending on what the truth really is.”

I nodded, wondering if the duchess was honoring her promise not to interfere. But of course, the footman needn’t have been given instructions to lie. He might have taken it upon himself to do so, thinking it would help the family, and thus him.

“I’m going to speak with the men in the stables tomorrow, see what they can corroborate.”

That seemed like a sound plan, though it was evident he didn’t expect to uncover any discrepancies. But every avenue had to be exhausted.

“What of Colum Brunton? Were you able to find out anything about his disappearance?” I asked.

Frustration tightened his features. “His friends were singularly unhelpful, but they definitely know something.”

“Why do you say that?”

“They were fidgety, evasive, at times unwilling to answer.”

I considered this. “Could they be frightened?”

“Maybe. They’re definitely uneasy. The question is, why?”

I pushed myself upright. “And are they worried for themselves or for their friend?”

Gage leaned over to help me adjust the pillows, and the scent of bay rum from his shaving soap tickled at my nostrils, along with the starch of the crisp white collar of his shirt. Candlelight glinted off his high cheekbones and pale lashes and picked out the paler streaks of blond in his golden hair.

“I see you’re joining the others for dinner,” I said, settling myself against the carved headboard.

“Yes, I figured one of us should be present, lest someone slip up and reveal something they wish they hadn’t.”

I couldn’t argue with that, and normally I would be more than happy to spend the evening in solitude rather than being forced to socialize. But I couldn’t paint