Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)

He was silent, rubbing his chin. He shook his head, as if clearing it of preconceptions. “I hadn’t realized I left you with so much responsibility. It seems a serious matter to have been placed upon your shoulders.” She wanted him to underestimate her. She wanted him to overlook her, for Louisa’s sake.

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.