A Perilous Perspective (Lady Darby Mystery #10)(63)
He squared his strong jaw with the cleft in the chin. “It stands to reason that if she chose to work at Poltalloch, and she wasn’t escaping something negative about Barbreck, then there must have been something that attracted her there instead.”
“You may be right,” Gage said, rubbing his equally strong jaw between his fingers in thought. “I wonder if her father or Liam would know, or if it’s something she deliberately kept from them.” His gaze strayed toward Bree. “Miss McEvoy, see what you can uncover about the matter. But do so circumspectly,” he cautioned.
She nodded. “O’ course.” Her whisky brown eyes seemed to reflect as much as they concealed as they met mine. “I’ll also find oot what I can aboot Miss Ferguson.”
I continued to meet her gaze steadily, even though I was now curious whether she already knew something, and if so, why she’d not wanted to reveal it in front of the others.
“Lord Henry and I can ask Mr. MacCowan about Miss Ferguson’s visit to him when we pay him another call to ask about Mairi’s employment at Poltalloch,” Gage remarked, rising to his feet from his partial perch on the edge of the desk. “We’ll also explore the area around Liam’s former home and make a preliminary search of Lord Alisdair’s cottage.” He cast me a knowing smile. “Though I’m certain you wish to be there when we take a look inside.”
My lips curled upward in agreement, but my attention was more consumed by the look I’d seen flutter across Anderley’s features. It was evident he’d expected to be the one to help Gage question Mr. MacCowan and search for Liam, as his position in the past had always been as Gage’s right-hand man. When I had begun joining Gage in his inquiries, Anderley had been forced to grow accustomed to me often inserting myself in that position, but there had still been many instances when, due to my gender and lack of experience, Anderley’s presence had been preferred and needed over mine. But Henry was a man; one who was strong and fit, and trained as a gentleman in shooting, fencing, and fisticuffs. If Henry was to now ride at his half-brother’s side, then where did that leave Anderley?
His and Gage’s relationship as valet and employer had never been a normal one. After all, Anderley had originally been an Italian Boy—one of the countless number of children indentured by their families back in Italy to padrones, believing they would be taken to a more prosperous country and taught a trade, only to find themselves in a strange land being exploited, mistreated, and essentially enslaved. Anderley—or Andrea Landi, as he’d been named at birth—had managed to escape from his master in London and make his way to Cambridge, where he’d saved Gage from a gang of thieves who had set upon him. Since then he had worked for Gage in capacities that far surpassed the simple description of a valet and had shown himself to be as much a confidant and friend as an employee.
Watching Gage’s newly discovered half brother encroach on the place he’d always held in Gage’s life clearly bothered him. Though I knew he would be horrified by the idea that I had been able to glean such a thing from a simple look. Anderley was normally able to blunt his emotions, to stifle and pack them away, and refuse to give them sway. It was a technique he’d learned for his own survival. One that we recognized in each other, for I’d adopted the same strategy during my marriage to Sir Anthony, though I no longer strove to employ it. For Anderley to have allowed even a quiver of his feelings to slip through told me just how keenly he felt the cut of Gage enlisting Henry’s help over his own.
“Then does that leave Anderley to search through Lord Barbreck’s files with the assistance of his steward?” I prompted, careful to keep my voice strictly neutral.
“If there’s time,” Gage replied, leveling his gaze at his valet. “But first and foremost, I need you to assist Mrs. Gage. She may be the expert, but I know you are better informed about art than you would lead others to believe.”
I turned to Anderley in surprise, not having guessed this about him.
He responded with subtle mockery. “Because I’m Italian?”
Gage arched his eyebrows in response. “You’re the one who mentioned how Napoleon appropriated countless pieces of art from all the Italian states, particularly Venice, when he conquered them thirty-odd years ago, sending the best to museums and auctioning the rest for profit.”
I’d not thought of that, but it presented an interesting possibility. Could some of Barbreck’s collection have been acquired by his brother during those sales? If so, the discovery would be scandalous, for a British noble would have then poured money into the coffers of the enemy. However, Barbreck would not have been the first British collector to do so. At times, the acquisition of art and antiquities could be as much a madness as anything else, trumping all other loyalties, even to country.
Anderley did not respond but stalwartly stared back at him as Gage continued. “I need you to help Kiera sort through the collection and all the implications of it. And I need you to be available to assist Mrs. Gage or Miss McEvoy in any capacity should they require it.”
Though this was phrased in as understated a manner as possible, I knew what my husband was actually saying. He wanted Anderley nearby for our protection. I couldn’t fault his instincts. Not when I’d found myself in dangerous situations before. Though the same could also be said for Gage. But rather I chose to focus on Anderley, hoping he recognized the confidence Gage had in him to trust him with our well-being in his absence.