They stared at one another, locked in furious confrontation, until recalled to their surroundings by a discreet cough.
“Excuse me, madam.” A liveried servant had approached and was standing a little distance away, clearing his throat. Eve tore her gaze away from Rowarth. “Mr. Sampson’s compliments and would you care to join him in the library?”
“Thank you,” Eve said, casting Rowarth one final glance before she followed him. “I should be delighted.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“I DON’T LIKE it,” Rowarth said to Miles Vickery. The two of them were stationed on a stone balcony directly above the open terrace windows that led from the library into the gardens. It gave them a perfect means of eavesdropping on the conversation inside the room without being so obvious as to be lurking suspiciously on the terrace. But Rowarth could also see the disadvantages. If Sampson closed the terrace doors then they would hear nothing and more importantly, if Eve needed help it would take them a long time to reach her. Nat Waterhouse, who was downstairs making sure that no one sprung them, was nearer, but he could not know what was happening inside the library.
At the moment Eve was alone and Rowarth was already feeling as strung out as a wire. His tension had ratcheted higher and higher since the confrontation with Eve in the carriage. He had despised the way in which Sampson had looked her over, his hands itching to plant the man a facer. He had almost done the same to Miles, who was a childhood friend. And Eve’s words to him in the hall had cut directly through all the bitterness and anger within him and had gone straight to his heart.
You come here and insult me with your false accusations and coerce me into behaving like a harlot…
Rowarth gritted his teeth. He was not proud of himself. There had been a time when he had been a better man than this. Eve had made him so. Now he wondered what would be worse—being obliged to listen to Eve seducing Warren Sampson, for the man was such an exhibitionist and the party so uninhibited that Sampson probably would not trouble to close the windows—or being unable to help her if Sampson turned threatening. Both thoughts were unendurable and it was he who had placed her in this situation, using her as bait, driven by his anger and need for revenge....
“Of course you don’t like it,” Miles Vickery said, breaking into his thoughts. “The woman you used to love is down there in danger of either
seduction or violence or worse.” Miles shook his head. “To be honest, old chap, I think you are touched in the attic to have gone so far with this scheme. When Hawkesbury first mooted the idea you should have told him to go hang. I could not believe that you did not.”
“Yes,” Rowarth said, belatedly recognizing the truth of Miles’s assertions. “I should have done.”
“I know you were bitter after Eve left you,” Miles continued. “I know you were afraid to show weakness like your father, but really, old chap…” He shook his head. “The two cases were very different, were they not? And Eve had been ill, which I am sure must have made matters more difficult—” He broke off, seeing Rowarth’s expression. “I know, I know. None of my business.”
Rowarth stared at him, wondering if he had misheard. The wind from the gardens came faintly to him, carrying the scent of pine and jasmine with it. It also breathed suspicions into his mind, faint but powerful, no longer possible to dismiss.
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
“None of my business—” Miles began.
“No,” Rowarth interrupted. “The other bit.”
“Eve had been ill,” Miles repeated, as though Rowarth was a rather slow schoolboy having trouble with his lessons. “I know it was not something that you ever mentioned, but I saw the doctor leaving—”
Rowarth grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. “What? When?”
“Steady on, old chap,” Miles wheezed. “I thought you were supposed to be cool under pressure?”
Rowarth released him. “When?” he repeated, very softly now.
Miles smoothed his jacket down. “Must we do this now, old fellow?” he beseeched. “Try to keep your mind on the job in hand. Sampson will be arriving at any moment.”
“Forget that,” Rowarth said. “This is more important. You were saying?”
Miles sighed. “I knew it was a mistake for Hawkesbury to recruit an amateur.” He caught sight of Rowarth’s expression. “Oh, very well. If you must know, I called on you at Welburn House a few days before Eve left you. There was an urgent matter I needed to discuss with you… Well, it is of no consequence now. I did not realize that you were out of town—the servants made no mention of it—so naturally when you were not at Welburn I assumed you were with Eve.” He sighed. “I was about to knock on the door of the house in Birdcage Walk when it opened and Dr. Culpepper came out.”
“The doctor?” Rowarth felt suddenly cold, the fear creeping down his spine.
“Yes, the doctor,” Miles said. “Must you repeat everything that I say?”
“Go on,” Rowarth said.
“As the maid was showing him out I heard him instruct her to look after her mistress,” Miles said. “So I assumed Eve was ill. That’s all.”
Rowarth took a deep breath. “Why did you never tell me this before?” he demanded.
“I’d forgotten about it until tonight,” Miles said simply.
The sharp click of the library door opening and closing again snapped them back to attention. There was the sound of voices.