Chapter 27 #2
He rubbed the spot where she’d swatted him. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know, my lady,” he told me with a shake of his head. “My secretary handles all my correspondence. Only shows me what I need to see. It’s more efficient that way.”
“Then he didn’t mention her?” I pressed.
He shrugged. “Not that I recall.”
“And she didn’t try to speak to you here?”
“Nay.” He tipped his head as if having a thought. “Though she may have tried to speak to Milngavie.”
This made me still. “Why would she have done that?”
“My secretary passes some of my correspondence to him, as I’ve been training him up.
Much like your father-in-law has your husband.
” He settled more comfortably, clasping his hands over his abdomen.
“Milngavie got a late start to all of this. He wasn’t raised to it like most. And I’ve been happy to help him. ”
“Is that the lad who inherited the Gale estate?”
“Aye. Your new neighbor, as the stork flies.”
Lady Bearsden swatted him lightly with her fan again. “It’s ‘as the crow flies.’ ”
His eyes narrowed. “Nay. I’m pretty sure it’s a stork.”
I left them to bicker, circulating the room to speak to the other guests while keeping my eyes open for Gage.
It could mean nothing. Strathblane’s secretary might never have received any correspondence from Portia Whitlock. Or if he had, he might never have passed it on to Milngavie.
But if he had…If he had, why hadn’t Milngavie mentioned it?
This question troubled me more than I wanted to admit. And I suddenly had the rather strong suspicion that we had all been expertly misled.
—
For all my time spent living with Alana and Philip and the number of social events I had watched her host, I had failed to realize precisely how much effort went into them.
Perhaps I’d simply not been paying attention, but I suspected this was more because my sister had purposely concealed the exertion required, even from me.
Whatever the case, this truth had now been laid bare.
In the hours before the start of my first ball, I found myself like a soldier during his first battle feeling as if I’d been baptized by fire.
The number of questions and requests which came my way, and the problems—both big and small—which needed solving were dizzying.
I’d not understood why Bree had insisted she dress me at such an early hour, but I soon recognized her wisdom.
Had I waited, I never would have found time to change into my ball gown.
This would have been not only embarrassing but also disappointing because I actually liked my gown for the evening.
It being the height of summer, we’d settled on a midsummer’s night theme, and so I’d ordered my gown to match.
It was fashioned of indigo silk with a silver net overlay sprinkled with small glass beads that captured the light to twinkle like stars.
Both the color and effect accented the lapis-lazuli shade of my eyes, making them shimmer “witch bright.” For once, the descriptor I’d so often heard used to describe them—not always in a complimentary manner—did not sting when it came to mind.
Much to my modiste’s horror, I’d ordered the sleeves to be only slightly puffed, but not enough to require the usual padding and support garments strapped beneath the gigot sleeves which were so en vogue.
Coupled with the sapphire necklace and matching earrings Gage had once gifted me, the gown made me feel beautiful.
And perhaps more importantly—at least, in this instance—competent.
It certainly helped that everyone’s reactions to my appearance—be it delight or admiration—seemed to make them more compliant to my decisions and instructions.
Unfortunately, this was not the case with Mr. Birnam, whom I’d sent a message to via a footman, asking him to seek me out as I’d not had the time to visit his chamber.
I’d thought at first that he was merely being difficult, but when he failed to comply with standard precedence at the start of the ball, I realized he was actively avoiding me.
My father-in-law, my husband, and I were all positioned near the main entrance to the great hall in order to greet those who lived in the nearby vicinity who were arriving just for the evening’s ball.
The guests who were staying at Bevington Park were supposed to process around to be received by us before entering the great hall where the dancing was to take place or the adjoining rooms where refreshments and other entertainments were being offered.
However, the Birnams, undoubtedly at Mr. Birnam’s behest, had ignored this piece of etiquette.
All of them but Matilda, that is, who Trevor escorted over at her insistence so that she could shamefacedly admit to her family’s breach of protocol.
I felt sorry for her, doing my best to reassure her that I knew the fault was not her own.
In truth, I was relieved to see that she and Trevor seemed to have resolved their differences, though that did not change Mr. Birnam’s edict.
Lord Gage, who had been relaxed and even complimentary of my appearance, now sported a crease between his brows that did not bode well for Mr. Birnam.
“You said that you’ve been waiting for him to attend to you all afternoon?
” he inquired, evidently having overheard me telling his son.
Snapping his fingers, he summoned over a footman and directed him to fetch Mr. Birnam.
One hoped Birnam would not be so audacious as to disobey such a request from his host in front of more than a hundred other guests.
“Perhaps I should send a footman to summon Mr. Armstrong much the same way,” Gage leaned down to murmur in my ear.
I offered him a strained smile in answer to his quip. “No, I agree with your earlier assessment. Best to let Anderley handle it.”
Though hopefully he would send word to us of what he’d uncovered soon.
We welcomed another round of guests, a baronet and his lady and their daughter who were some of Bevington Park’s nearest neighbors. When they’d progressed into the great hall behind us, we turned to find Birnam waiting impatiently off to the side.
“Ridiculous protocol,” he blustered. “Ye already received us a week ago.”
“Perhaps,” I conceded, but was unable to keep the bite from my tone in response to his rudeness.
“But since you’re so eager to be a part of this world, you should understand that there is a certain way things are done.
And while I don’t always agree, in this instance it was a simple act of courtesy. ”
“I believe my daughter-in-law also requested the opportunity to speak with you earlier this afternoon and you ignored her.” Lord Gage’s voice was clipped and brusque but controlled.
Our conversation would be inaudible to most beneath the strains of the orchestra floating down from the balcony at the opposite end of the room and the raised voices of the guests at the edges of the room watching the dancers at the center, but he was clearly still conscious of their presence.
“I’m tired o’ cooperatin’,” he snarled. “ ’Tis clear ye think a Birnam killed Miss Whitlock, and I’ll no’ help ye build yer case.”
I couldn’t help but notice that he’d not protested their innocence but merely avowed he wouldn’t help us prove their guilt, but I didn’t let this sway me from my intent.
“I have a question that has nothing to do with that,” I pronounced impatiently.
“I need to know when you approached Lord Milngavie to offer him your daughter Matilda’s hand. ”
Birnam glowered ferociously. “I ken ye wish tae help yer brother, but that is none o’ yer concern.”
“Oh, but it is…”
“I’ll no’ change my mind,” he interrupted, grasping both sides of his dark evening coat as if about to give a speech. “Yer brother is no’ the husband my Matilda needs.”
I gritted my teeth, both in anger at his talking over me and at his dismissal of my brother simply because he had no title.
“Answer the question, Birnam,” my husband warned, straightening himself threateningly.
“I’ll no’ be intimidated,” he growled. “This is no’ yer affair.”
“Oh, but it is!” I snapped, stepping closer to his barrel-chested frame. “And if you actually cared one jot for your other daughter, Portia, you will answer me.”
Birnam glanced from my face to Gage’s and his father’s before finally relenting.
“The evenin’ he arrived. Shortly before I spoke tae yer brother.
I suppose that’s what ye want tae ken,” he snarled belligerently.
“Weel, I never promised him a thing. He canna claim otherwise.” With this he stomped off, not realizing he’d left me stunned for a different reason.
“He lied,” I muttered to myself.
“Who? Birnam?” Lord Gage asked in confusion.
I turned to face them. “No. Milngavie. He told me that Birnam approached him about marrying Matilda on Wednesday, after the archery debacle and before their argument over port following dinner. But Birnam is saying they spoke Monday, not long after Lord Milngavie arrived.” I shook my head. “Why would Milngavie lie?”
The sinking sensation which had begun earlier deepened, for I was afraid I knew the answer.
“Maybe he wished to spare your and your brother’s feelings,” Gage suggested, though I could see in his face that he was no more convinced of that than I was.
“Maybe,” I murmured, turning to search the crowd gathered behind us in the great hall.
Philip was conversing with Lord Melbourne beneath the bust of some ancient Roman while nearby Alfie was making Lorna and Charlotte laugh.
Trevor and Matilda, and Lady Bearsden and Lord Strathblane were whirling about the room arm in arm—one couple more graceful than the other.
I couldn’t see Milngavie, but I knew he was there.
And I suddenly felt an urgency to find him.