A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(20)
“I think we shall retire, too,” Morven stated, crossing the room toward her husband.
Uncle Dunstan scraped a hand back through his thick, grizzled hair. “Aye, perhaps we all should.”
This was probably a sound idea. After all, my analysis of the paintings in question could wait until morning when the sunlight would make it much easier. In any case, there were supplies to be gathered and prepared, and Emma would need to be fed in less than an hour’s time before settling down for her longest slumber of the night. I was not about to sacrifice my lengthiest stretch of uninterrupted sleep for anything less than an emergency.
However, the look that passed between Gage and Henry told me we wouldn’t be retiring to our bedchambers quite yet. So when Gage pulled me through the doorway on the floor above, just to the right of the grand stairs, rather than continue down the corridor to our rooms, I was not entirely surprised.
When Aunt Cait had given us a tour of the manor upon our arrival, she had called this room the solar, a title which was somewhat misleading considering that the house had been built less than sixty years ago, so this room could never have functioned as a true medieval solar. It was really just another parlor—one whose walls were draped with an exquisite set of tapestries. One depicted a scene from the Greek myth of Eurydice and Orpheus, while another portrayed nine dancing women who I suspected were supposed to be the Muses. Though the room was now dark, and the drapes drawn, I could make out shapes in the darkness, including the tables and pedestals spaced throughout, where a number of ancient vases, bowls, and amphorae—or the fragments of such—were displayed.
“I assume you intend to further analyze these paintings?” Gage turned to ask me just as Henry joined us carrying a brace of candles. The small halo of light in which we stood created a sense of intimacy.
“Yes, in the morning,” I replied, curious to hear what he was thinking.
“Then when you confirm your suspicions, as I have every confidence you will, whether you wish to speak in such concrete terms or not . . .” His lips quirked in the soft glow of the candlelight. “Then I presume you’ll want to pay a visit to Miss Campbell.”
“That would be the logical next step.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Although, I don’t know how welcome we will be after Lord Barbreck went charging over there tonight to accuse her of fraud and theft.”
“Your aunt and uncle and cousins all seemed shocked by Barbreck’s revelation of his broken engagement, but I do wonder at their never having guessed at it. After all, his animosity toward her . . .” Gage emphasized the pronoun just like the marquess did whenever referring to Miss Campbell “. . . was well known. How is it that none of them tried to find out why?”
It was a legitimate question, no matter how little I liked it. Morven, in particular, was not only inquisitive but also astute. As was my aunt. How had they never pursued the matter?
“What do you know of the Campbells of Poltalloch?” Gage asked Henry. “Has your family had any dealings with them?”
The Duke of Bowmont had vast holdings all over Scotland, as well as deep connections to many of the nobility.
Henry reached out to set the candles he held on the sideboard nearby, their light burnishing his auburn locks. “Lord Jack asked me the same thing earlier today.”
“He did?” Gage replied in evident surprise.
Henry nodded, the watchful look in his eyes telling us he found it an odd coincidence as well. “After Rye pointed out Poltalloch Castle in the distance. I thought he was just making conversation, and perhaps he was. But now . . . I wonder.”
“Yes.” A slight furrow formed between Gage’s brows as he leaned against the back of the settee behind him, considering the matter.
“But to answer your question, I’m not aware of any dealings Bowmont or my brothers have had with the Poltalloch Campbells. They’re a minor branch of the larger Campbell clan’s tree, nowhere near the status of the Duke of Argyll.”
“An old family no longer of great importance,” I surmised, and Henry dipped his head in agreement.
Gage straightened. “Then, while you’re examining the paintings, I think I’ll speak with your uncle and see what he can tell me about these Campbells,” he told me. “I’d like to know what sort of situation we’ll be riding into.”
It was a sound suggestion. For all we knew, the Campbells might be an antagonistic bunch, greeting any encroachment onto their land with hostility, especially after Lord Barbreck’s accusations this evening. I doubted they would react to our arrival with violence, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t be met with enmity. We needed to know how willing they would be to receive us on short notice, or whether doing the dance of social niceties and sending a request to pay them a call would achieve better results. I preferred not to give them time to formulate a coordinated response, but any element of surprise had already been ruined by Barbreck’s temper.
“Is there anything I can do?” Henry asked, his silvery gray eyes intent. Though he spoke evenly, I could sense his desire to help. The same way I’d sensed it in Edinburgh during our last murder investigation.
“Not just yet,” Gage replied, and I could almost see his half brother’s shoulders metaphorically slump, though he was holding himself too still to visibly do so. “But I was hoping you would ride with us tomorrow afternoon.”