All of which would have made me overjoyed, but for the secret I was keeping from him. I felt the weight of it settle in my gut like a lump of coal—black and fetid and combustible.
Just like dozens of times before, I ordered myself to tell him. I summoned the words to the back of my mouth, but then I couldn’t force them out. Instead they sat there, crowded in my throat, choking me.
If only I hadn’t promised Lord Henry I would let him tell Gage. If only I’d ignored that promise the moment Lord Henry had departed with his brother. Then I wouldn’t be stuck in this impossible situation.
From the moment I’d discovered that Lord Henry was Gage’s half brother, I’d known my husband would be tremendously hurt by it. At the time Lord Gage would have slept with the Duchess of Bowmont, conceiving Henry, he would have been wed to Gage’s mother. And Emma Gage had been in love with her husband, even though she only saw him for about a fortnight each year, as he was off captaining a ship in the Royal Navy during the wars with Napoleonic France. Perhaps because of that.
Gage had adored his mother, stoutly defending and protecting her from a very young age, even from her own family. When he learned that his father had betrayed her in such a manner, he would be devastated, and the reconciliation that had begun between father and son would be utterly blighted.
All of this had been running through my mind when I initially hesitated to tell Gage the truth he rightly deserved to hear, and so I had sought to soften the blow, waiting for the right moment to tell him. Except there was no right moment. It had been foolish of me to think there ever would be. Gage’s fury and disillusionment over the way matters had ended during our last inquiry had given way to new frustration at the discovery of the publication of The King of Grassmarket. And the longer I waited to tell him, the harder it became to do so.
Now two months had passed, and I still hadn’t told him, and the realization not only that doing so would hurt him but that my keeping it from him for so long would also inflict another wound and possibly damage the trust he placed in me, held me immobile. The truth was, I didn’t want to tell him. To cause him pain. To face the repercussions. But I also didn’t want to face his anger.
I knew Gage would never intentionally harm me. I knew it to the depths of my soul. But I was not yet far enough removed from the years of abuse I’d received at the hands of my first husband, and those memories lingered below the surface, affecting me in ways I didn’t always seem to be able to predict or control. I mistrusted anger, even in Gage, and then hated myself for feeling that fear at all.
Something of my agony must have communicated to Gage, for his brow furrowed in concern. “Don’t worry, Kiera. My father isn’t blaming you this time.”
“Well, that will be a novelty,” I replied with a weak laugh.
Unable to continue to meet his searching gaze, my eyes dipped to the ribbon trim of my bodice, which I plucked nervously.
“Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” I replied, forcing my hand back down to my side. But I could tell Gage wasn’t convinced. “I’m just . . .” I cleared my throat, searching for an explanation. “Your father . . .” I was interrupted by a rap on the door, and I leapt on the fortuitousness of the timing, for I still had no idea how I was going to finish that sentence. “Come in!” I called, relieved when Bree and Anderley stepped through the door.
Ignoring the look Gage aimed my way, telling me he would bring up this discussion again later, I smiled brightly at my maid. She looked lovely in a willow green gown I had given her, which she had reworked to fit her more petite frame. However, her sparkling whisky brown eyes were noticeably dimmed, and I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was because of the play or the man standing behind her. When she cast a glance over her shoulder at Gage’s valet, setting the upswept curls of her strawberry blond hair bobbing, I suspected I had my answer.
Anderley was the dark foil to Gage’s golden good looks. With his height, coal black hair, and olive skin, he had never failed to receive attention from the maids of the homes we visited. I’d thought Bree to be immune to his charms, but some months past I’d been proven wrong, and the pair had embarked on a tentative courtship.
Truth be told, it had been far from smooth. Bree’s moods seemed to vacillate between euphoric and infuriated with remarkable speed for a person who had always seemed so even-tempered before. For the most part, I had chosen to keep my own counsel, for the few times I had attempted to ask her about their relationship had been met with firm rebuttals. Gage never spoke of it, so I suspected he’d done the same. But I couldn’t help but wonder how much Anderley was affected by their courtship’s highs and lows. If he was perturbed at all, I had yet to see it. Though, in all fairness, I would be the last person to whom he displayed such emotions.
“No ceremony,” I declared when both servants appeared prepared to stand and deliver their reports rather than sit in the giltwood armchairs. I urged them into the seats, determined that the sooner we discussed this the sooner I could retire, and the sooner Gage would be distracted from my uneasiness. “How was the play at the Grand?”
“First of all, the reports about the cholera appear to be true,” Anderley declared as he settled in his chair, adjusting his deep blue frock coat. The subtle look he exchanged with Gage made it clear this was a subject they’d discussed at length earlier. “The number of cases seem to be diminishing. At least, here in Edinburgh.”
“That’s true,” Bree remarked. “The mood o’ the audience was lighter than I expected, even before the play began. And I overheard several women talkin’ aboot how no new people had fallen ill in their tenement in o’er a fortnight. Ye could sense their relief.”
A relief I imagined we all shared. But Edinburgh had been one of the first places that cholera morbus had appeared in Scotland before spreading on to the north and the west. The disease was now rampaging through parts of Glasgow, and the numbers of sick were already far greater there.
In any case, no place seemed to be completely safe. Not even small villages, which had reported their fair share of disease. Cholera had reached the east end of London in late January, and the newspapers had reported Paris’s first flux of cases only a few short days ago.
“That sounds optimistic, but regardless, we’ll continue to remain vigilant,” Gage declared. An assertion none of us were going to argue with.
Anderley nodded, then inhaled a deep breath as his eyes locked with Bree’s in what I could only term a speaking look. “Then, I’m sorry to say the play was a rousing success.”
Bree’s shoulders hunched as if trying to retreat from the truth. “Aye. I’m no’ sure I’ve ever seen the like. At least half the crowd had already been to see it before. Some o’ ’em even started singin’ along wi’ the actors.”
“I heard one chap tell his friends he’d seen it half a dozen times, and he’d caught a handful of the plays and gaffs at other venues.”