Trial by Desire (Carhart 2)

But for her own sake, she could have happily shoved him into the mud of the stream bank for the solicitous tone in his voice. “You may notice that I failed to shatter under the strain.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to imply you were unequal to the task,” he said, practically tripping over himself to reassure her. “No doubt you dealt with the matter magnificently. I merely meant that you shouldn’t have needed to do so.”

Heaven forfend that she take time from her schedule of frivolity to think of matters of substance.

“Indeed,” she responded. “The matter took valuable days from my last trip to Bond Street. Why, that season, I had to go to the opera with ready-made gloves on opening night. You can imagine my shame.”

What she wanted to say was I’ve been doing more than that since I was sixteen.

“Are you angry about something?” he asked in bewilderment.

“Of course I’m angry. There was a shortage of peacock feathers that year, and because I was late to town, I had to settle for diamond pins instead.”

He frowned at her. “Did I say something wrong?”

It was a form of kindness he practiced. She’d felt one like it most of her life. No doubt her father had intended to keep her as every woman ought to be kept, safe and out of harm’s way. Women were supposed to plan parties, after all, not escapes. Ned wouldn’t understand that she wanted more than that. She imagined herself trying to tell him anyway.

I wanted more responsibility, and so I started stealing wives. Did you know Louisa is number seven?

No. That clearly wouldn’t work.

“I did say something,” he said, staring at her. “You are angry.”

“I’m furious just thinking about those diamonds,” Kate said with a sigh. “Remember, if you love a woman—buy her sapphires.”

Ned simply stared at her, as if she’d announced her intention to give birth to kittens.

“I will never,” he finally said slowly, “never, in my entire life, ever understand women.”

No, he wouldn’t. And Kate wasn’t sure whether she should thank the Lord for that, or burst into tears.

NED HAD NO MORE OPPORTUNITY to talk to his wife that evening, and in any event, he very much doubted she would say anything he comprehended.

After the evening meal, Kate had cheerfully asked if anyone wanted to play at hide-and-seek. She’d spoken with a bright smile, her hair glinting in the lamplight. If it had been a real house party, her suggestion might not have been taken amiss.

As it was, Harcroft had stared at her for a very long time before shaking his head and leaving the brightly lit dining room without a word. Jenny had made polite excuses for herself and her husband. And when they’d all left, Ned had caught that look on her face again—that curious combination of self-satisfaction and hurt, all mixed into one.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was already hiding. He wasn’t sure what role she’d assigned him in the game, but he felt uneasy. Nobody else seemed to notice, and Ned was left to his own devices.

There was more to all of this than appeared on the surface.

He had gone in search of Jenny, who had a keen eye for seeing hidden things. He’d stopped at the downstairs study. A little sullen light shone from beneath the door, which stood ajar.

Ned eased it open.

Harcroft turned as he entered. “Ah, Ned. Your wife told me I could sit in this room. I hope you’re not accustomed to making use of it.”

“No, no. I have a desk in an alcove in my upstairs chambers.”

Harcroft had laid a heavy sheet of paper on the wooden table. As Ned drew nearer, he realized it was a rough hand-drawn map of the area, roads and villages sketched in by the wavering marks of pencil. Wood shavings—and the aforementioned pencil—decorated the edge of the table.

A single spot of red ink in the center marked the point where gossip had placed the woman who looked like Louisa. Two straight-pins pierced the villages Ned had conducted Harcroft to earlier in the day.

“You’re being quite thorough,” Ned said. For some reason, those two pins, bristling out of the map like the spines of a hedgehog, made him feel uneasy.

“I dare not let anything slip by. Not so much as a single cottager, who might otherwise have useful knowledge.”

The man’s hair shone almost copper in the orange lamplight; he frowned and shifted, staring at those pins until Ned thought they might reduce to slag in the heat of his gaze.

Ned had known Harcroft for years. The ferocity of his expression was nothing new. Harcroft looked like a ruffled angel, with his gold hair and his tired slouch. He had always seemed perfect—so damned perfect. But for his confession on that long-ago night, Ned would have believed him to be truly without fault.

Harcroft had poured himself a finger’s breadth of sherry, but as usual, the liquid sat untouched in a tumbler by his map. He leaned back and sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair.

“I can help with your sojourns,” Ned said. “I spent enough time hereabouts in my youth that I know the environs quite well.” He reached for the pencil and sketched a little X between two hills. “There are five farmers’ cottages in this valley. Not truly a village, but the houses are built within shouting range of each other, the lands radiating out from that point. And here…”

Harcroft nodded as Ned talked. It was good to feel useful, to know that someone was willing to speak with him. Ned discussed the area within a day’s ride from Berkswift slowly, starting from the north and then filling in details in a clockwise sweep. It was only until they got to the southeast quadrant of the map that Ned paused to sharpen the pencil with a penknife.

“There’s very little out west,” he said. “It’s all sheep pasture now.” He tapped the map at the old Leary place, remembering Kate’s words that afternoon. “Mrs. Alcot, apparently, lives alone here.” He sketched in an obligatory squiggle. “The house she is staying in is rather out of the way.”

Now that he was looking at the rough map, he was reminded of precisely how out of the way the house was—a good thirty minutes on horseback. On foot? Kate’s trek must have taken considerably longer. Over an hour. Another two or three to come back, by the roundabout route she’d taken. She could have made it back to the point where he’d met her in the time allotted. If she’d walked very quickly, and spent no time visiting with Mrs. Alcot.

“Something doesn’t add up,” he said aloud.

“I know that feeling.” Harcroft rubbed his eyes. “I feel as if I’m missing something right in front of my nose, and if I could only draw back, I would see it.”

“There’s another cottage.” Ned moved his pencil a few inches north. “It sho

uld be abandoned—the shepherds use it in spring and summer. It’s right here, along the ridge. We passed it this morning. But it’s empty this time of year.”

“Perhaps I’ll go knock these two dots off, tomorrow morning,” Harcroft said, watching as Ned inscribed a second squiggle to represent the shepherd’s cottage.

Ned had scared Kate this afternoon. By the tempo of her breath and the pallor of her skin, she’d seemed terrified to see him at first. And it hadn’t just been his abrupt appearance. His questions had discomfited her enough that she’d thrown herself at him in that frightened parody of a kiss. And he hadn’t even done anything—just asked after Mrs. Alcot.

“Kate spoke with Mrs. Alcot this afternoon,” Ned said slowly. “She would have spoken up if the woman had seen anything.” He reached for a straight-pin, to puncture that dot on the map.

Harcroft reached forward and blocked his hand. “No. I think not.”

“Kate is friends with Lady Harcroft. I know she wants to help.”

“She’s a woman. She’ll be rather too kind in her questioning. I’ve seen your wife with mine for three years, Ned. If there’s a thought in her head beyond the latest fashions in head gear, I’ve yet to see evidence of it.”

That seemed too much an echo of Kate’s own words this afternoon. Ned felt another prickle of unease travel through him. He was definitely missing something.

“Well,” he said, “then I’ll do it myself tomorrow. I know Mrs. Alcot, and if what Kate said is true, she’ll be more likely to talk to me than a stranger. You go here.” Ned tapped east on the map. “Concentrate on the towns with significant populations—it’s the best use of your time, in any event. I’ll handle these two.”

That sense that something was eluding him intensified.

Harcroft shook his head. “Well. That decides that. I suppose I should turn in if I’m to have an early start tomorrow.” He stood and stretched.

Ned stared at the map a while longer. “I was just wondering one thing, Harcroft. Jenny and Gareth spent all their time today searching out news of any ruffians who might have absconded with your wife. But this afternoon, you asked after gossip about a woman and child alone. Do you think she left of her own free will?”