Pirate's Golden Promise (43 page)

“Cort, I didn't wear gloves when I visited Adam. In fact, Mary told me last week that she swore she had put both gloves in the chest, but only one remained. We never could find it.”

He glanced up. “You're sure of that?”

“Yes. And I swear I didn't kill Adam. I did strike the side of his head when he made advances to me, but he was all right when I left his room. I am innocent.”

The worried lines left his face, and he reached for her and drew her onto his lap. “I know you couldn't kill anyone, Wynter. But as patroon, it's my duty to seek out the truth. I don't want the English authorities to get wind of this, or they'll try you for murder. They aren't as sympathetic to prisoners as the Dutch. You must tell me everything you remember.”

Fear reached into her breast and felt like a twisted tree limb inside her. She was frightened, but she recounted the entire story for Cort.

When she finished, he said, “Did anyone see you leave?”

“No. Oh yes, there was a serving woman. I nearly bumped into her when I left Adam's room. She was the only person.”

His golden head eagerly nodded, and they stood up. “We're going to pay a visit to this woman and set things right.”

The old woman, whose name was Gilda, did indeed remember Wynter. She told her story to Cort, Wynter, and the burgomaster, recounting how Wynter had nearly bumped into her in the hallway. No sooner had Wynter disappeared down the stairs than Adam threw open the door. He had an ugly red welt on the side of his head and asked her for a washcloth and water to reduce the swelling. This was the last time she saw Adam Somerset alive, but she insisted that he was in good health except for the minor injury.

Evidently someone else had killed Adam. This was the opinion of the burgomaster upon also questioning Thomas. The man told him the time he left the inn with Wynter, and it was near the time that Gilda had seen Wynter in the hallway.

The murderer had attempted to make it appear that Wynter had killed Adam. Cort was determined to learn the truth. But for now, Wynter was safe and there would be no charges against her. For her testimony, Cort sent Gilda a large turkey and a new fur coat. Thomas received a large bottle of whiskey to warm him during the coming winter months.

Katrina arrived at Lindenwyck two weeks later. She hadn't intended to return until news of Wynter's arrest reached New York. However, she had heard nothing and surmised that something had gone awry with her plan. Before going to the house, she purposely looked for Fredrik, intent upon discovering the truth.

She found Fredrik with the dogs. The animals barked upon seeing her. Katrina suppressed a shiver. She'd never cared for the dogs, but Fredrik's ability to control them with a word of command excited her.

“Quiet!” he shouted to the dogs straining on their leashes. Immediately the animals quieted. Fredrik rushed forward and took Katrina's outstretched hands.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” he said and kissed each gloved palm. “I have missed you so!”

“Ah, Fredrik. How glad I am to see you again. I, too, have missed you. And our moments alone. Will you come to me tonight?”

Desire and love glowed in his eyes. A satisfied smile curved his mouth. “Ja, I will do anything you want, be anybody you want me to be.”

Katrina sighed. Such an easy young man. Fredrik presented no challenge, but he was a good lover and had learned quite well how to please her under her expert tutelage. She smiled at him. “Tell me what has been happening at Lindenwyck in my absence. Cort and his wife don't keep me informed. Lena hasn't written yet, neither has Mikel. I am quite peeved with the lot of them.”

“Nothing, Katrina.”

“Are you certain?”

“Ja.”

Fredrik's simplemindedness was enough to drive Katrina mad. Hadn't he heard anything about Adam's death? What about Wynter?

“No scandals, no deaths in my absence?”

Fredrik thought a moment and then lifted his brawny shoulders in a gesture of surprise. “Ja, I remember now. Lord Somerset, the husband to Vrouw Van Linden's sister, was murdered.”

“Really? And what happened?”

“Nothing. The murderer wasn't found.”

“Goodness, Fredrik!” Katrina grumbled in impatience. “Wasn't anyone suspected of the crime?”

“Vrouw Van Linden, but the burgomaster didn't arrest her. A serving woman, old Gilda in the village, saw her leave the man's room. But Somerset was fine. It was decided that someone else killed the man after Vrouw Van Linden's departure.”

Katrina's face fell. Dammit, she swore silently. Wynter, Cort's English rose, was still free, while she, Katrina, lived a life of luxurious exile. She would willingly trade all the wealth for Cort's love. Money meant nothing, as she had found the last few months, without love.

Fredrik enfolded her in his arms, certain that no one saw them. He kissed her soundly on the lips. “I shall come to you at midnight.”

Katrina pushed away and shook her head. “I have a headache. Perhaps another night, Fredrik.” Without further word of explanation, she left Fredrik alone with his dogs.

But from the shadows of the forest, the tortured and hate-filled face of a man watched. If Katrina had known the hate in the man's eyes was for her, she'd have left Lindenwyck for New York in all haste.

Needless to say, Cort and Wynter were less than glad to see Katrina. Lena said very little to her, and Mikel kissed his mother dutifully on the cheek.

“You haven't come to take me with you?” he asked her before Katrina was seated in the sitting room.

“Heavens, no. But in the spring, you might like to visit me in New York for a few weeks.”

Mikel breathed a relieved sigh. “Maybe in springtime,” he said and rushed upstairs to play with Lyntje. Lena followed. “My son is
quite pleased
to see me and in good health. What lies do you tell him about me, Cort?”

Cort poured himself a glass of brandy and smiled. “None at all, Katrina. Mikel is old enough to make up his own mind and to know who loves him.”

Katrina shook her head and gave a tiny laugh. “Come now, no one speaks ill of me here? Not even you, Wynter?”

“I never speak about you at all, Katrina, if I can help it.”

“Nothing has changed at Lindenwyck.”

“Lucy and Dirk have married,” Wynter interjected. “They're quite happy.”

“I had heard about her husband's death. Poor man, but then again, he didn't seem to be of the best character.”

“No,” Cort put in, “he was too easily swayed by the promise of riches.”

“Indeed,” Katrina replied.

Wynter noticed the cynical expression on Cort's face, the almost catlike quality of Katrina's. Did they have a secret together? Once again, she felt the outsider. There was a passionate history between Cort and Katrina, and she doubted she'd ever be able to forget that Mikel was their love child.

Unable to stand the penetrating and longing looks that Katrina threw Cort's way, Wynter stood up. “I must check on the baby,” she said and left them. But she didn't go to the nursery. Instead she went to her room.

On the dressing table, she found a single red rose. Picking it up, she smiled to herself and kissed the petals. She was foolish to be jealous of Katrina. Cort loved her. She found a vase and placed Cort's rose in it. Then she rang for Mary and began to dress for supper.

Downstairs, Cort wasn't smiling. He handed Katrina a glass of port, aware that she hadn't asked how Somerset had met his untimely demise. She prattled on about the lovely house she'd bought, the expensive furnishings, the clothes and jewels. But Cort didn't hear her words. He watched her face, carefully gauging her expression. He'd known Katrina a long time, long enough to know when she was hiding something. He knew she was hiding something now.

When she finished speaking, he cleared his throat. “Lord Adam Somerset's death was quite a tragic end.”

“Was it? Well, the man deserved no better than he got, I suppose. You're well aware I didn't care for him.”

“Such surprising honesty from you is a refreshing change. You freely admit you weren't Somerset's friend, but an enemy.”

“Now, Cort, please don't think I killed him. I couldn't kill anyone. I heard that Wynter was questioned. How terrible that must have been for you! How humiliating. But her glove was found in his bed, so you should have expected she'd be suspect.” She shook her fluffy head. “Now I would like to change for supper. I've missed the meals at Lindenwyck when everyone eats at the same table and throws dagger looks at everyone else. New York is an exciting town, but not as intriguing as this house and the people in it.” She stood up and pecked his cheek in a sisterly way. “I've even missed you, Cort.” Then she was gone, her lavender scent hanging in the air.

Cort poured another brandy for himself. He sat down but didn't drink it. Instead he swirled the liquid in the glass and gazed thoughtfully at the doorway. He knew now that Katrina had killed Adam. At first, only the burgomaster had known about the black glove, then he'd told Cort, who asked Wynter how her glove could have gotten in Adam's bed. No one else knew about the glove. Except for the killer who had placed it there. Well, now he knew who had murdered Adam. The problem was how to trap her.

Wynter woke that night to Lyntje's crying. She listened, expecting the child to grow quiet, but when the hysterical sounds continued, Wynter got up and went into the nursery. She found Mary there, holding the baby and rocking her in a vain attempt to put her back to sleep.

“Where's Gerta?” Wynter asked and took Lyntje from the sleepy Mary.

“I don't know, ma'am. The baby's cries wakened me. After a while I came in here, but Gerta is nowhere to be found.”

“Go back to bed,” Wynter told her and sat in the rocking chair. “I'll tend to my daughter.”

Mary bobbed a curtsy, grateful to go back to bed.

When Lyntje quieted, Wynter laid her in her crib and watched as the child drifted off to sleep. She was quite aggravated with Gerta. Where was the woman? She had been such a dependable person until the last few months. She seemed scatterbrained lately, her mind not on caring for Lyntje at all. Wynter didn't want to dismiss Gerta, because she knew how much Lyntje loved her. But if the woman was going to behave so irresponsibly, then she must be discharged.

After Wynter was certain that the child was asleep, she realized that she, herself, wasn't sleepy at all anymore. She went downstairs to the library in search of a book and was just about to light a candle when a noise outside the window caught her attention. Looking into the moonlit garden, she saw Gerta clinging to the shadowy figure of a man. Though they were a distance away, the still night brought Gerta's words to Wynter.

“Please don't do this anymore, I love you. We can go away. Ja, we can leave Lindenwyck.”

The man's voice was muffled, but Wynter could tell by Gerta's reaction that he wasn't thrilled with her request.

“But you must not sneak around like this. Someone will catch you. I could not bear to see you hurt again, and you will be.” Gerta's voice filled with tears. “I love you. You are my life.”

Wynter turned away, unable to bear hearing any more of Gerta's heart-wrenching plea. Who was the man Gerta loved? she wondered. She never gave a thought that Gerta might care for anyone since Rolfe died. Of course she knew that Gerta had had deep feelings for Rolfe, that perhaps they had been lovers, but Wynter suspected that this new love of Gerta's might endanger those at Lindenwyck. Why should the man sneak around the estate, and who was he?

Returning to the nursery, she waited for Gerta. When the woman finally appeared, tears streaked her face, and when she saw Wynter, she trembled.

“Gerta,” Wynter began as gently as possible, though a slight edge coated her tone. “I saw you and a man together in the garden. Whether or not you have a lover is not my concern. However, my child is. I told you once before that I don't want my baby neglected. Lyntje woke in hysterical tears. Because you weren't here, I found Mary in here trying to put her to sleep. This will not happen again. Do you understand me?”

Gerta nodded unhappily. “Ja, Vrouw Van Linden. I am sorry. I won't leave the little one alone at night.”

Wynter could tell that the woman was miserable, and she felt sorry for her. Whoever the man in the garden was, he had upset Gerta.

“By the way, Gerta, I heard you ask him to cease his sneaking or he might get hurt. Who is this man that he must sneak around Lindenwyck?”

Gerta's eyes widened in fear and dread. Her mouth fell open and she grew absolutely pale. “You won't tell the patroon, will you?”

“Not unless you don't tell me why this man must sneak around the estate?”

“He is married, vrouw.” Gerta's voice trembled. “His home is upriver, and we don't wish to be caught by anyone. I will tell him he cannot come here again.”

Wynter didn't think Gerta was the sort of woman a man would risk his homelife for. She was a colorless type, almost homely in appearance and very domestic. Not the type of woman a bored husband would seek out for an illicit affair. But Wynter took Gerta's word and, with a stern look in her eye and a nod of her head, left the nursery and went to bed.

Katrina's presence at Lindenwyck disturbed Wynter more than she cared to mention. Always, she pretended politeness, but whenever the family dined at table, Wynter felt a clenching in her stomach muscles, and even her facial muscles hurt from the tiny smile she wore. She hated Katrina, but Cort told her they should at least appear civil and extend courtesies to her. After all, he said, Katrina was Mikel's mother.

Wynter nearly exploded at this remark of Cort's. How well she knew who was Mikel's mother … and father. She would live with that fact until the day she died. Not that she resented Mikel. She didn't. She found the child very bright and loving. He had begun to call her Mother and he took great delight in Lyntje. Wynter couldn't have picked a better playmate for her child than Mikel. But to have Cort declare they must be kind to Katrina, only because Katrina was Mikel's mother, grated on Wynter's nerves.