Uncle Andrew stood stiffly in his formal coat and blue and black tartan kilt with his arms behind his back, studying me across the short distance that separated us. I could tell he was wrestling with himself, much as my brother-in-law, Philip, had wrestled with his conscience before he asked me to assist Sebastian Gage during our first investigation together four and a half months prior. Uncle Andrew likely rebelled at the notion of exposing me to such an unsavory thing as murder, and yet he knew I possessed the skills he needed to help him understand the crime. Had I been a man, he would not have hesitated. But I was a female, and what’s more, his niece. He was supposed to protect me from such things, not encourage me to speculate on them.
He grimaced and turned away. “I know I shouldn’t be asking you such a thing, but . . .” he sighed, almost angrily “. . . it seems I have no choice.” Gathering his courage, he looked me squarely in the eye. “Kiera, would you be willing to assist us? Perhaps it’s not necessary,” he hurried on to say before I could answer. “But I’m not so experienced with murder, or anatomy and those things . . .” He waved his hand vaguely in the air. “And I would rather be sure. I know that once the body has been moved . . .”
“Yes, Uncle,” I replied before he stammered on. “I will do what I can.”
However, Trevor was not as resigned to the necessity of my lending them assistance. “Isn’t there another surgeon you could ask? What of your local physician?”
“I’m afraid not,” Uncle Andrew replied. “And Dr. Kennedy is visiting family in Ayrshire.”
My brother frowned.
“Believe me, Trevor, if I thought there was any man near enough and capable enough to lend us their assistance in this matter, I would not have asked your sister.” His eyes hardened in censure. “I didn’t approve when Cromarty asked her to assist in that murder investigation at Gairloch, or when she got dragged into that mess with the Dalmays. But . . .” he turned his head to the side, and I could see the tendons standing out in stark relief “. . . I begin to understand the predicaments those gentlemen were in.” The expression he fastened on me was tinged with reluctant admiration. “Kiera is nothing if not discreet. And she did receive instruction from one of the foremost anatomists in England, unwanted as that was.”
Trevor turned to study me, his brow heavy and his eyes clouded with uncertainty. I thought I could guess at some of his distress. After all, I was his baby sister, and he had been looking after me all my life. That he believed he had failed me once, in regards to protecting me from Sir Anthony’s nefarious intentions, was bad enough. And he had no intention of letting me come to harm again. At least, not while I was living under his roof.
He had heard about my involvement with those previous investigations, and likely felt just as much disapproval as our uncle, though he’d not told me so. The fact that I had come to him angry and broken following my last investigation did not help matters. I had been poor company these past seven weeks, but that had more to do with my grief over the death of my friend Will than the investigation itself, disturbing as that had been. I wondered if he understood that. Or did he blame my melancholy on my continued involvement with corpses and murder?
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, searching my face. “You do not have to help, no matter what he says.”
“I know,” I replied, holding his gaze steadily with mine. “But this is something I want to do. Something I can do.” I moved a step closer and lowered my voice. “I need to feel useful. And I want to help find whoever killed Dodd. For Dodd. For Willie. If I just walk away . . .” I left the sentence unfinished, knowing he recognized the guilt I would feel.
He continued to regard me, and then just when I thought he would argue further, he reluctantly nodded. “All right. But I insist on accompanying you.”
I agreed and we turned toward our uncle.
“Of course. If you wish.”
Trevor scanned me from head to toe in my evening gown. “You’ll need your cloak, and gloves or a muff. What of your slippers?” he fussed. He suddenly sounded so much like our nursemaid growing up that I couldn’t help but smile.
“These shoes will be fine. But I would appreciate a pair of gloves,” I told my uncle. “Preferably an old pair. If they should be ruined . . .”
He nodded, understanding the implication. Blood was not easy to wash out. “I shall send a servant to fetch whatever you require.”
CHAPTER THREE
The drive to the abbey took less than ten minutes, down a road bordered by winter fields of trampled hay and barley. For several minutes before the road turned away from it, I could see the Hogmanay bonfire blazing in the distance, a beacon in the darkness with the hazy shadows of the dancing villagers whirling around it. I huddled in my corner of the seat and tried not to shiver. I knew the night breeze would slice even colder once we stepped out of the carriage.