Candace Camp (14 page)

“My darling Eleanor, I want only what is best for you. I am afraid of what may happen.”

“I am sure I am in no danger.”

“You cannot know that. It seems very likely to me that you were, or that you will be if this man did not find what he was searching for. What if he decides to make you give him whatever this thing is?”

“Then I will give it to him,” Eleanor answered. “I would not value it above my life. And if I were to need protection, I already have it. Zachary and Bartwell are right there in the house, and since the ‘robbery,’ we have kept watch each night.”

Dario spent a few more minutes futilely trying to get Eleanor to change her mind and allow him to protect her, but finally he lapsed into a sulky silence. Eleanor did not mind. She was frankly glad to have a chance to think in quiet.

But no matter how long and hard she thought, she could not come up with any explanation for anyone looking through her things. What could anyone think he would find there?

When she got home, after she had greeted everyone and talked to the children for a while, she went to her bedroom and proceeded to look through all her things, going methodically through each and every drawer, and even through the chest at the end of her bed and the clothes in her wardrobe. She took out every piece of jewelry and laid them out on her dresser, since the intruder had concentrated both times on her jewelry.

She could find nothing that would rouse a thief’s particular interest, especially since he had just looked through them, taking almost nothing. Except the locket. Why had he taken a brooch the first night and the second time the locket? Why not get them both?

Eleanor tried to remember if she had been wearing the locket that first night, in which case he would have been unable to find it. She was relatively certain that she had not. She had worn only jet earrings and the Italian brooch that Edmund had given her.

With a sigh, she returned all her jewelry to the jewelry box and stood for a moment, thinking, drumming her fingers upon the dresser. It occurred to her that the thief might have been looking for something that was among Edmund’s things. He could, perhaps, have mistakenly thought that whatever it was lay in her room.

She walked down the hall to Edmund’s room. She paused inside the door for a moment and looked around. Little of Edmund remained here. She had given away most of his clothes, and the things she had brought home were stored away in chests. One stood at the foot of the bed, and another was against the wall.

Eleanor had looked in here before, after the first theft. But that time she had merely looked to see if anything had been disturbed. She had not searched through everything to see if there was something here a thief might be after.

She pulled up a stool and sat down to go through the first chest. There was a small box containing a few cuff links and stickpins that Edmund had worn. He had not been a man given to much jewelry, and what few things he had were usually made of onyx or pearl, except for one bloodred ruby stickpin. The rest of the chest yielded nothing.

She went to the other chest and dug through it, as well. Finally, admitting defeat, she stood up and closed the lid. As she turned to leave, her eyes fell on the rosewood box that stood upon the dresser. She paused, feeling a pang of sorrow.

The box, about a foot and a half long and a foot wide, was Edmund’s traveling writing kit, and he had taken it with him on any journey he made, even if it was only for a few hours. It carried music sheets, already lined, and pencils, as well as an inkhorn and sharpened quills, which Edmund preferred to the new steel pens. With this portable writing desk, Edmund was able to jot down music wherever inspiration might strike him.

Eleanor reached out and ran a hand across the smooth top of the box. She opened the lid, looking down at the writing supplies inside. It was then that she remembered there was a secret compartment in the writing kit. Edmund had taken a childish pleasure in the secret drawer and had proudly shown Eleanor how it operated.

What if he had placed something of value in it?

Eleanor ran her fingers lightly over the wood, searching for the narrow lines that would indicate a compartment and trying to remember exactly what Edmund had shown her. She closed her eyes, thinking back.

It had been on one of the ends, a piece of inlaid wood that could be pushed aside if one did it exactly right. It took her a few tries at each end before she pressed down at the right spot at the same time that she pushed to the side, and a small square of wood slid aside to reveal a tiny keyhole.

Eleanor looked at it consideringly. She had no idea where the key was. There had been nothing like that in either of the chests she had just searched. She pondered the fact that it could have been on Edmund’s person and been swept away in the ocean or burned up with his body. There was also the very real possibility that, small as it was, it had been left behind, unnoticed in some drawer or other, in their house in Naples.

She sighed and slid the concealing piece of wood back into place. It would take tearing the writing box apart to find what was in the compartment—assuming anything was—and she did not want to do that. It had been quite dear to Edmund.

Besides, there seemed little real chance that there was something valuable concealed inside it. What would Edmund have put there? And why would anyone want it? It would be foolish to destroy the box on the off-chance that there was something of value inside it. She would wait, she decided, and see what transpired. Perhaps she might even be able to find the key somewhere.

Still…She picked up the box and carried it downstairs to her office, where she locked it away inside one of her cabinets. There was no point in taking unnecessary risks, after all.

That task accomplished, she went up to bed, still puzzled.

E
LEANOR SPENT
the next morning with Zachary, catching up on business matters, since she had been absent for two days. She had lunch with the children and looked over their recent schoolwork afterwards. She knew that she needed to bring in a tutor for Nathan. He had already outstripped Kerani’s skills in most of his subjects, and Eleanor and Zachary had been taking up the slack. Before long, Claire would be past Kerani’s help, as well.

Kerani, of course, had been raised to be a woman of leisure in India, not a governess. It was only because she was so eager to earn her way in Eleanor’s household after they had rescued her that Eleanor had given her the task of looking after the children. At first, of course, they had been young enough that a teacher was not required, and Kerani had studied hard to learn both English and a better grasp of numbers than she’d had before. She had been able to teach them the basics, and there had been the added benefit of her teaching both her charges to speak Hindi, Kerani’s native tongue. It was not, perhaps, the most useful skill, but there was always a chance it might come in handy in the children’s future.

However, it was clear that Eleanor now needed to hire a tutor for the children. The problem, of course, was how to do so without hurting Kerani’s feelings or making her decide that she no longer had a place in the household. She could still look after the children when they were not in class, but even that position would grow less and less necessary as the years passed.

It would all work out, Eleanor thought, if only she could persuade Zachary to make a push with Kerani. But there were times when Eleanor despaired of ever getting the conservative Zachary to do so.

She was idly thinking about the problem later that afternoon when one of the footmen announced that a visitor had arrived to see her. Eleanor glanced at the card the man held out to her on a salver, and her eyes widened in surprise. Lord Neale.

Whatever was he doing here?

“Send him in,” she told the servant, standing up, her heart pounding and her mouth suddenly dry. She straightened her skirts, then hurried to the small mirror on the wall for a last-minute look. She was not sure what she was feeling. A veritable storm of emotions was welling up inside her—excitement, embarrassment, uncertainty. But one thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to look her best when she faced him.

Just yesterday, Eleanor had thought that she would never see him again. And that, she had told herself, was for the best. The man was a boor. He had been rude and insulting to her the other night—and, truth be told, on every other occasion when she had seen him. He disliked her. She disliked him. Their lives would doubtless be much more pleasant if they never had to see one another.

In fact, it would probably have been much better if she had simply refused to see him. He should be made to realize that he could not just walk in and be received, given what he had done. But it was, of course, too late to follow that course.

Still, she could hide from him how much turmoil his arrival had caused in her. He did not need to know that eagerness warred with indignation inside her. So she carefully schooled her expression into one of polite indifference and sat down again in her chair, folding her hands demurely in her lap.

Anthony strode into the room in his usual way, his steps rapid, his face alert, as though he were charging into battle. Eleanor looked up at him, her face faintly questioning, even a trifle annoyed.

“My lady.”

“Lord Neale.” She inclined her head but did not hold out her hand to him. She gestured toward a chair a few feet away and kept her voice cool as she said, “Pray sit down.”

He did so, though he perched on the edge of it as though he might jump back up at any second. He looked, Eleanor thought, distinctly uncomfortable, and that fact allowed her to relax a little. At least he was not confident of his reception.

“I confess, I am somewhat surprised to see you here today,” she began after a long moment of silence.

“I rode up yesterday afternoon after you left,” he explained tersely. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Indeed?” Eleanor raised her eyebrows. “I would have thought we said everything necessary yesterday.”

“I did not.” He popped up out of his seat and began to pace. “I discovered some things after you left.”

Eleanor frowned, puzzled both by his words and his demeanor. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What things? Something about Edmund? The money?”

He shook his head impatiently. “No. No. Nothing to do with that.” He faced her squarely, looking a little as though he were facing a court about to sentence him. “The fact is…I came to apologize.”

Nothing he could have said would have surprised Eleanor more. She just barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping open. “I beg your pardon?”

“I am offering my apologies,” he said in a brusque way that did not sound terribly apologetic. He paused, then gritted his teeth and went on. “I must apologize for the way I have behaved to you from the moment I met you. I realize that I misjudged you. I leapt to conclusions. False conclusions. You were right. I should have thought more of Edmund’s happiness and welfare. I made judgments about you based only on supposition.”

“I must say, I am somewhat surprised.”

Anthony’s statement, honest and bald and obviously difficult for him to force out, spoke to Eleanor in a way that a smooth, flowery, compliment-strewn apology never could. She believed him. He had discovered that he had been wrong, and he regretted it.

“I am sure you
are
surprised,” Anthony told her. “No doubt you think I am a hardheaded, misguided fool.”

“Well, yes,” Eleanor admitted, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “But I must confess that I misjudged you, as well. I assumed that you were interested only in Edmund’s money.”

He cast her a rueful look. “I guess that makes us a rather suspicious pair, doesn’t it?”

“Perhaps we have both had reason to be suspicious,” Eleanor said, unbending a little bit more. “I have spent a good many years fending off fortune-hunting men.”

“Yes, well, I have had a bit of experience with adventuresses, as well,” he agreed. “But it doesn’t excuse my behavior to you, especially the other night. I was rude and…and…”

“Boorish?” Eleanor offered.

“Yes.” He came closer to her, looking down intently into her eyes. “I acted like a cad. I can only hope that you believe me when I tell you that I am not usually so.”

“Perhaps it is something I bring out in you. I find that you seem to bring out the worst in me.”

“You were a guest in my house. It was bad enough that I failed to protect you from an intruder. But then to…to force my attentions upon you…”

Eleanor did not point out that he had not had to use any force. She had been quite eager to accept his attentions. Indeed, it was that fact that had humiliated and angered her the most. She certainly was not about to remind him of the matter.

“I think the less said about it, the better,” she replied. “I accept your apology.”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Good. Thank you.”

Anthony stood for another moment, silence stretching awkwardly. Then he said, “I have come upon another matter, as well.”

Eleanor eyed him warily. Had the apology been only an excuse after all?

“I am here to offer you my protection.”

Eleanor stared. Was he daring to ask her to be his mistress? “I beg your pardon?” The ice was back in her voice.