Page 28

Judging from his smirk, Sir James Riddell possessed a good hand.

Or perhaps he was merely bluffing. There was no way to tell just from a glance.

But it was clear Gage hoped to extract some sort of information from him.

Just as it was clear he wished me and Henry to leave before we foiled his efforts to do so.

Unfortunately, a fellow at one of the other tables hailed Henry as we moved to depart. “Oy! Lord Henry! Whendidyegethere?” Judging from his raised voice and slurred speech, the man had already been dipping too deep.

Henry cringed as his name was shouted again, the fellow waving him closer, refusing to be ignored.

“Go,” I urged Henry. When he looked uncertain, I added, “I need to excuse myself for a moment anyway.”

“You’re sure?” he murmured.

“Yes.” I peered over my shoulder, seeing the men at Gage’s table beginning to take an interest in the disturbance.

“Go!” I gave him a little push before moving toward the exit.

Once in the corridor, I paused, undecided where I should go.

I supposed I could venture to the lady’s retiring room as I’d implied to Henry, but it was upstairs and not actually necessary at the moment.

Surveying my surroundings, I realized with a start that this was nearly the exact spot where I’d met Lord Gage for the first time.

It had been a rather memorable altercation given the ill opinion my father-in-law had already formed of me and his determination to set me in my place and separate me from his son.

We had come a rather long way since then.

“Lady Darby.”

I turned to see the man Mr. Innes had been arguing with hurrying toward me. Rather than evening wear, Reverend Jamieson wore his traditional black clergyman attire with the distinctively tied white cravat.

“I’m relieved tae see ye lookin’ so hale and hearty,” he declared with a compassionate smile. “I’d heard ye were one o’ the people who suffered in the floor collapse, and I’ve been meanin’ tae call on ye and yer husband, but then, aye…” he said with a sigh “…there are so many.”

“And you were among the number?”

“Nay. The papers got that wrong.”

My eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Though I stumbled comin’ doon the stairs. That must be where the confusion came from.” He waved this off as if it was inconsequential. “But I dinna suffer more than a bump tae my ole backside.” He flashed a playful grin. “Fortunately, ’tis well padded.”

I laughed.

He seemed pleased to have caused me such amusement, but then a furrow formed in his brow. “I only wish everyone had been so lucky.”

I agreed, sobering. “Mr. Smith was a friend, was he not? I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank ye, lass.” His face pinched in pain, and for a moment I thought he might actually weep. “Alexander was a truly good man. And a friend tae all.”

Though it felt somewhat callous, I couldn’t ignore the opportunity he’d afforded me. “Including Mr. Innes?”

He exhaled a heavy breath. “Aye, even David Innes.” Jamieson smiled sadly.

“I’m afraid when ye witnessed our little altercation ye’d caught him on a bad day.

I’ll no’ deny the man has a temper, tae be sure.

And he had reason tae be angry on that occasion.

Though I’m certain he bore neither Mr. Smith nor myself a grudge because o’ it. ”

“Then it’s true what he said. That Lord Eldin was preventing his membership to the Bannatyne Club?”

The reverend quietly scrutinized me, a slight frown tugging down the corners of his mouth, and I feared for a moment that I’d overstepped.

That my interest was not only inappropriate but rude.

These men were his friends, after all. I could detect the conflicting emotions flickering across his mobile features.

“While he was alive? Aye,” he admitted, and then surprised me by adding, “And since he’s been dead?

” He turned his head, peering down the corridor toward the people milling back and forth between the public rooms. “Aye, that, too.”

I was about to ask how that was possible when he explained.

“Some o’ the other Bannatyne members seem tae have taken up his cause, either unbidden or because he tasked them wi’ it.”

“Would he have done such a thing?” I asked after a pause.

“Aye.” He sighed again. “Sadly, aye.”

“Because of Innes’s father?”

A spark of curiosity lit his eyes. “Ye ken aboot that, do ye?”

I didn’t respond, trusting he would take my silence as confirmation.

“Unfortunately, Lord Eldin was the type tae bear a grudge.” He shook his head. “Tae bear it into his grave and beyond. Though I trust the good Lord has set him straight aboot that noo. Too late tae change his actions, but there are those o’ us left tryin’ tae set it tae rights.”

The intensity with which he spoke these words made me wonder whether he was talking about more than Mr. Innes’s membership in the Bannatyne Club. But before I could even attempt to prod, we were interrupted.

“Jamieson, old fellow.”

We both turned toward the sound of the voice, watching as a man hobbled forward with the aid of a cane.

One leg appeared to be shorter than the other, either because he’d been born that way or it had been broken and had not healed properly.

Whatever the case, it gave him an awkward rolling gait that I imagined must cause him pain from the improper alignment.

Nevertheless, all his focus appeared to be on his friend.

“I heard ye were caught up in tha’ terrible business at Lord Eldin’s auction.” He grasped Jamieson’s hand, shaking it. “I’m glad tae see you’re well. And ’twasn’t a repeat o’ what happened at Kirkcaldy. Ye must’ve feared the same. I ken Reverend Irving was a friend o’ yers.”

“His father-in-law, aye,” Jamieson confirmed, his expression distressed.

“Even worse! For ’twas his parishioners who suffered the loss.” The man shook his head. “?’Twas a right sorry business.”

I recalled that Reverend Irving had been the son-in-law of the clergyman who led the church at Kirkcaldy whose gallery had so tragically collapsed nearly five years ago and resulted in the deaths of so many people.

A former resident, Irving’s visit from London and intention to preach had been the reason for the larger than usual crowd for that evening service.

Given Jamieson’s vocation and age, it was not surprising that he knew the clergymen involved. It would be foolish to think he knew every man of the cloth throughout Scotland, but I suspected he knew a great deal of them.

I spied a familiar figure emerging from the parlor where the gambling was taking place and decided to slip away while the two men were commiserating with one another before they recalled my presence.

However, I nearly turned back when Jamieson’s friend grumbled, “I thought they were supposed tae change the law so this never happened again.” Only my realization that would almost certainly discourage rather than encourage them to say more kept me from doing so.

Instead, I followed Sir James Riddell as he ambled into the ballroom, almost colliding with him when he stopped abruptly just inside the entrance.

“Oh, pardon me,” I exclaimed, deciding to use this stumble to my advantage when he turned to address me.

“No, pardon me,” he pronounced with a smooth smile.

“I should know better than to halt in doorways.” He seemed quite content, even a little cocksure, making me think he’d walked away from the gaming room with more money in his pocket than when he’d entered.

But it could have been an act, or a result of the whisky I could smell on his breath.

He was now standing about a half step too close to me, even taking the crowded room into account.

“I saw your name mentioned in the newspaper. I’m glad to see you weren’t severely injured,” I remarked, borrowing the same approach Reverend Jamieson had used on me to broach a conversation.

Given how soon Sir James had departed the gaming room after me, I doubted Gage had sufficient time to glean enough information from him—not in the midst of playing loo.

“And I you,” he replied.

“What a terrifying experience that was,” I reflected, not having to struggle to summon my emotions as I attempted to draw him out. Someone bumped me from behind, and Sir James grasped hold of my elbow, compelling me toward a bank of tall windows nearby which overlooked the gardens.

“It was certainly unpleasant.”

The gardens were mostly in shadow except for the wide terrace which could be reached through the French doors farther along.

I found myself wondering why the ball wasn’t held later in the spring or early summer to take advantage of the lovely Royal Botanic Garden we were there to support.

But I supposed a number of the largest donors were bound for London soon and the opening of Parliament and the new social season.

“They say it happened because of a faulty joist,” I remarked, still searching the shadows.

“That the builder used faulty materials.” I turned to look at Sir James, speaking with care so as not to reveal the truth.

“Yet Lord Eldin had the house built for his own use, didn’t he?

You knew him. Was he the type to miss such a thing?

Or to hire employees who missed such things? ”

A lively reel had just begun, entirely at odds with our conversation.

Sir James clasped his hands behind his back, still standing nearer than was proper, though this time I knew it was not the crowd forcing him to do so.

I shuffled half a step away as he joined me in my scrutiny of what could be detected in the flickering light of the torches at the edge of the terrace.

“I would like to say no.” He sighed. “But I’m afraid I can’t.

Lord Eldin was…” He corrected himself. “Well, he had the typical arrogance of many of our breed that no one in our service would dare defy or cheat us.”

I frowned. “But he was a Lord of Session.”