kens Mugdock’s identity,” Bree suggested.
“Maybe,” I conceded, having already wondered the same thing.
Gage tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Rookwood’s solicitor proved uncooperative, but he did let slip the name of the executor of Rookwood’s will. And I’ve a mind to track him down this evening at the club.” He turned to Anderley. “So you’ll need to set out my evening kit.”
“Yes, sir.”
Given the fact that the only club Gage was a member of here in Edinburgh was the New Club on St. Andrew’s Square, and they didn’t allow ladies entrance, I knew better than to ask if I could join him. Regardless, I had little desire to stir from the house in such weather, especially not to enter such a bastion of gentlemen smoking cigars and drinking brandy while they played cards and billiards. It was no wonder Gage hadn’t yet chosen to bathe away the stench of ink. Not when he would be wading through a cloud of smoke this evening.
For a moment I thought of protesting his absence. Upon my return from my chat in the garden with Bonnie Brock, Jeffers had informed me that Lord Henry Kerr had called while Gage and I were out. What if he returned this evening while Gage wasn’t present? But we couldn’t very well sit around waiting for him to call again when we had a murder to solve. As much as I wanted the truth to be revealed, I would also be lying if I didn’t admit I was relieved to postpone it for at least one more day. Because once Gage realized I’d been keeping this from him, I wasn’t certain how he would react, but I knew it would not be in my favor.
“Then I’ll spend some time trying to tease out what we do know,” I declared. “Maybe one of the books in our library can provide some hints as to why the author chose Mugdock as his nom de plume, or some other possibilities for the Bo or Ba Rookwood wrote before he died.” Though I suspected that list might be long. It wasn’t an uncommon beginning to a name. If that was even what it was.
“I can help,” Bree offered.
“Then we have our tasks,” Gage summed up as he pushed to his feet. He leaned down to press a kiss to my brow. “Don’t wait up. I’m not sure how late I’ll be.”
I caught hold of his hand before he walked away. “Be careful.”
He smiled in reassurance. “Always.”
* * *
• • •
Well, that book was singularly unhelpful,” I declared some hours later, pushing the tome aside, where it joined a pile of half a dozen other texts. Arching my back, I tried to stretch the muscles cramping along my lower spine. I glowered at the oak shelves filled with books covering three of the walls, many of their contents having been left behind by the previous owner of the house. “One would think the name Mugdock was plucked entirely from the air, but I just know that it wasn’t.”
“Aye, m’lady. It’s odd. But no’ odd enough for that,” was Bree’s mangled logic. But since I agreed with her, I didn’t question it.
I rubbed my tired eyes and sighed. “Perhaps I need a break.”
“Perhaps ye need to retire,” she suggested, peering up at me from the book in her lap.
I glanced at the clock on the mantel, finding it was an hour later than I’d expected. “Not yet.” I was determined to solve at least one mystery tonight.
Pushing to my feet, I strolled toward the windows, peering out through the drapes to discover that rain still lashed the glass. The garden was dark, the outbuildings at the opposite end little more than smudges in the blackness. While inside the fire burned cheerily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows over my portrait of my niece Philipa, curled up in a chair asleep. She held a book open in her lap and pillowed her head on Earl Grey, who gazed out of the painting like a prince humoring his subjects. The aroma of a fresh pot of tea wafted over from the sideboard, and I was tempted to drink another cup, but I suspected it would only make me tense and keep me propped upright much of the night with indigestion.
There was a rap at the door, and I turned as Jeffers entered. “This just arrived for you, my lady.”
I accepted the letter perched on the silver salver he held out to me. Its