Mirrie grimaced. “We have placated Gaunt’s men with strong mead and a ready supply of food, together with a promise to hunt down whoever killed their master.”
“And they believe you?”
“Aye. Tristan is planting the seed that it may have been an intruder.”
Isabella’s heart leaped. She spun around so her robe flared about her calves. “Could that be true?”
Mirrie avoided her eye. “’Tis unlikely an intruder would gain entry through the main gates. Though Tristan has sworn to interrogate the guards.” She made a hopeless gesture.
Isabella sank back against the desk, her hopes plummeting once again. Mirrie darted forward just in time to catch a heavy ledger as it toppled toward the floor.
“I’m sorry.” Isabella put her head in her hands. “I cannot do anything right.”
Mirrie straightened the ledger and the parchments beside it. “You are tired, Bella. Why not sit down and take some refreshment?”
“I have been trying to persuade her to do that since before noon,” Angus remarked, dryly. “But perchance you will have better luck, Mirrie.”
“I have no wish to eat or drink, and I cannot sit still.” Isabella leaned forward in an attempt to ease her rolling stomach. “I am so worried about Hamish.”
“He has had many hours to get away.” Mirrie rubbed at Isabella’s back, as if sensing intuitively what would help.
“But how could he do that?” Isabella’s voice was anguished. “To kill a man, in cold blood, inmyhome.”
Angus leaned back in the chair and regarded them both solemnly. “We do not know for certain that he did.”
Mirrie opened and closed her mouth. Isabella knew that Tristan firmly believed in Hamish’s guilt. Consequently, so did Mirrie.
And mayhap they were right.
“Do not give me false hope, Father,” she breathed.
“That is not my aim.” Angus poured himself a goblet of wine. “But there are questions we must ask ourselves. Firstly, what was Lord Gaunt doing outside the keep at that time?” Heshrugged. “Why was he fully dressed? And why did he wear a sword belt if he was not carrying a sword?”
Isabella blinked in confusion. “How do you know he was not carrying a sword?”
“There was no sword with the body.” Angus sipped his wine.
“Then Hamish must have moved it.” Mirrie clamped her lips together. “I mean to say, the killer must have moved it,” she corrected herself lamely.
The door opened a second time and this time it was Morwenna who appeared. At Mirrie’s sharp inhale, Isabella noted that her mother’s neatly braided hair had come loose and her silken gown was streaked with blood.
She gripped the edge of the desk tighter. Would the nightmare of this day never end?
“My love, what has happened?” Angus strode over and took Morwenna’s hands.
“I am not injured,” she spoke up quickly. “The blood is not mine.”
“Then whose?” Angus lowered his bushy brows as he helped his wife to a chair.
Morwenna sank down and put her face in her hands, as if exhausted. “’Tis a long story, husband, and perchance one for your ears alone.”
Mirrie did not miss a beat. “I will return to the great hall.” She dipped into a small curtsy and left.
Morwenna held up a hand when Isabella went to follow her. “On second thoughts, Bella, ’twould be better if you also heard this.”
Nonplussed, Isabella resumed her position by the desk. The weak winter sunlight streaming through the window was barely enough to light the room, and she could not properly read the expression of either of her parents. It was time for the maids tocome in and light the candles, but all servants had been asked to stay away from the solar ever since Angus ushered her in here.
It was Angus who finally spoke up. “Morwenna, you know I have never been a patient man.”
