was almost as determined as Bonnie Brock to uncover the identity of the man who had so callously besmirched my name, and I knew Gage’s resolve must be heightened as well.
As if recognizing this, the inveterate rogue nodded, though his gaze trailed to the side as if he’d heard something. I followed it, but in the falling darkness I couldn’t see anything to cause alarm.
“Aye,” he said, turning to go. “But dinna take long. Word is Mugdock has written a second book.” His eyes hardened with fury. “And this one is even more damagin’ than the last.”
I turned to Gage in shock. A second book?
“Where did you hear that?” Gage demanded to know even as Bonnie Brock and the others began to melt away into the shadows of the overarching trees.
“I have my sources,” he replied, and then they were gone.
“Do you think it’s true?” I asked softly, clutching Gage’s arm tighter.
He exhaled a long breath, telling me he was more anxious than he’d wished for anyone to realize. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He turned our steps back down the path leading toward the gate opening onto Wemyss Place. “Kincaid’s sources do seem to be enviously accurate.”
I frowned at the trees lining either side of the trail, their trunks and branches fading to a darker gray against the gloom of twilight. “I wish Rookwood had told us about this sequel, but I suppose it’s not surprising. And he wonders whether publishing the book has been worth all the trouble,” I jeered, repeating his words. It must have been if he was willing to publish another one. “To think I actually felt a little bit sorry for him.”
“Yes, well, speaking of sympathy, Kiera.” Gage waited until I turned my head to look at him. “Don’t give Kincaid any more than he deserves.”
I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off.
“I saw the way you were looking at him after he tried to tell us he and his men aren’t responsible for the rash of crimes inspired by the play. The man is not blameless in any of this. He might not have wished for his life to be turned into a melodrama, but he is responsible for the crimes and exploits that inspired it. And undoubtedly whatever vendetta the author is out to repay.”
My first impulse was to protest that we couldn’t know that Bonnie Brock had done anything to deserve such revenge, but then we also couldn’t know that he hadn’t. The fact was, he had done many things worthy of reprisal in his lifetime, no matter his personal code of honor. That code was not the same as the rule of law, and I was under no delusions that he hadn’t committed dozens of crimes, including smuggling, theft, housebreaking, body snatching, assault, and murder.
We’d long lamented the necessity of cooperating with him, believing it was better to work with the devil we knew than the devil we didn’t, but now I wasn’t so sure. Particularly now that we’d found ourselves dragged into the solder mill of public opinion with him. And typically, because I was a woman, my reputation suffered the most.
When the scandal had erupted around my involvement with Sir Anthony’s dissections, I’d bemoaned and berated the unfair treatment of me in the newspapers and among society’s gossips. But now that my unborn child was being implicated in such slander, I felt fury supplanting all other emotions. How dare they speculate on the conception of my child. It was not only insulting but also absurd. Yet another example of society’s swift criticism and condemnation of those who persisted in living their lives outside the prescribed manner deemed acceptable by our culture’s rigid standards. And I had never colored inside the lines. Not completely.
I clutched Gage’s arm tighter as he steered me around an anomalous rut in the well-tended path. “Oh, I know Bonnie Brock is far from blameless. Believe me. And he undeniably enjoys tweaking your nose and causing me to blush.” I gave him a chiding look. “You really shouldn’t rise to his bait. Not when you already know he’s going to attempt it.”
“I shouldn’t defend my wife?” he retorted, determined to take offense.
“Not when we’re well aware the scoundrel never follows the rules of decorum and never will, and our meetings with him are a necessary evil. In that instance, it seems we willingly sacrifice some of our right to take umbrage.”
His lips flattened in vexation.
“Besides, what exactly did you intend to do back