A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(18)

I glanced around me, seeing that everyone had drawn close, either sitting, leaning, or standing.

“Good. Noo, then, Idonia,” he said turning to Lady Bearsden. “You and your cursed memory recalled my long-ago engagement to Miss Campbell, didna ye?”

She sniffed. “I cannot help it if I happen to be sharper than some people I could name.”

His lips curled into a small grin at this insult, but they flattened soon enough as he continued. “Aye, well, ’tis true. I was engaged to Anne Campbell some fifty-four years ago.” He glared at his relatives almost belligerently, as if he expected them to argue. “?’Twas a suitable match, wi’ advantages to both our families.”

Though no one spoke, I had to wonder if I was the only one who found it interesting that he felt the need to justify their engagement. I was not familiar with the Campbells of Poltalloch, but it seemed obvious that they must be minor Scottish nobles or at least gentry. As such, Barbreck’s marriage to the daughter of such a family, particularly one whose lands abutted his own, would have been sensible. And yet his emphasis on the prudent nature of their match made me think that had not been their true motivation. That, and the strong feelings he still exhibited toward her even fifty-four years later.

No, to quote Shakespeare, he definitely doth protest too much.

“Then why did ye no’ marry her?” Uncle Dunstan asked.

The flickering firelight made the hollows of Lord Barbreck’s eyes more pronounced as he leaned forward. “Because the Campbells questioned our family’s honor,” he snarled. “Sir James had the audacity to accuse my brother, Alisdair, o’ sellin’ him a forged painting. And then dared suggest I colluded wi’ him.”

This was the reason he had reacted so fiercely to my assertion that his Van Dyck portrait was a forgery. It turned out this wasn’t the first time the word had been bandied about in connection with his art collection. And the last time, it had not only smarted his pride but cost him the woman he may have loved.

He pounded the arm of his chair. “Alisdair secured and transported the painting at Sir James’s bidding, at no small effort, and yet the old churl and his termagant daughter still dared to challenge its authenticity.” He turned to stare broodingly into the shadows at the edge of the room. “I was simply glad I’d uncovered what a deceitful harridan the woman was before I married her.”

“The painting Alisdair sold them,” Aunt Cait queried, her gaze sliding sideways toward me. “Was it the Van Dyck?”

“No,” Barbreck stated firmly. “A Titian.”

I stiffened, drawing his attention for the first time since he’d entered the room.

“Then why did you go charging off to Poltalloch?” Lady Bearsden demanded to know, perhaps distracting him intentionally. “That is where you hared off to, isn’t it?”

“Because she ken how much I esteemed Van Dyck. She ken any portrait by him would be one o’ the most treasured in my collection.” His eyes narrowed. “And so she must o’ stole it and replaced it wi’ a fake.” He bit off each of his words with vehemence.

“Dinna tell me ye rode off to Poltalloch an’ accused Miss Campbell o’ that to her face?” Uncle Dunstan’s aghast disbelief was palpable.

“Aye!” His gaze flicked up and down over his nephew’s form as if he found him lacking. “Well, I wasna aboot to let her get away wi’ it.”

“Did she admit to it?” Morven asked almost eagerly.

“Nay.” His jaw tightened. “Laughed in my face is what she did. But she willna be laughin’ long. No’ when I prove her to be the thief and the fraud she is.”

I had a sinking feeling I knew where this conversation was headed, and if the manner in which Gage’s hand flexed where it rested against my back was any indication, so did he.

“Dinna ye think you’re takin’ this too far,” Uncle Dunstan protested, his bushy eyebrows bristling like a hedgehog. “You’ve no proof o’ any such plot.”

“Nay. But I will.”

Upon making this statement, almost as if on cue, his gaze swung to pin me to my seat. But this time I was prepared for it, and I did not allow even a single muscle to quiver.

“And Kiera is goin’ to help me.”

Feeling my temper stir, I arched a single eyebrow. “Oh, I am, am I?”

“I believe you said she was a liar,” Gage remarked drolly, though I could sense the anger he fought to restrain tightening the edges. “A viper,” he bit off.

“Uncle Donald, you didn’t?” Aunt Cait gasped, apparently not having heard the precise words he’d spoken to me earlier but more the tone.

“Aye, weel,” he grumbled. “Can ye no’ understand my shock and fury?” He lifted his cane to point vaguely in the direction of Poltalloch. “That woman is tryin’ to make me look a fool.”

“You seem to be doing that well enough on your own,” Lady Bearsden quipped with a sniff.

He turned his glare on her, but if he expected her to quail, he was going to be sadly disappointed.

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘I apologize,’?” Gage informed him. “At least, for a start.”

He stewed for a moment, his haggard, wrinkled face taut with displeasure before softening. “Aye, I do. I should ne’er have doubted Kiera’s integrity.”