Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)

“If we’re off in the next few hours, we’ll arrive home tonight.” There was that look in Jenny’s eyes, though, the way she dropped them so quickly, that suggested she had something else in mind. She remained seated, watching Ned as Harcroft walked out. She said nothing, long after his footsteps echoed down the hall.

And this was the true test. Ned could fool Harcroft. He could bamboozle Gareth. But Jenny had spent the years before her marriage watching for reactions, looking for the tiny, betraying clues that would suggest hidden motivations. Even if his heart had been in the deception, Jenny would have been difficult to lie to.

“We’ve not talked about Kate much,” she finally said. “I know she and I have not been the best of friends. But are things well between you?”

“Well enough.”

“If that’s an answer, I’ll eat my hat.” She tossed her unclad head, and Ned found himself grinning.

“You’re not wearing one.”

Her mouth curved up in brief appreciation, but she was not to be misdirected by levity. “What a mess this has been. I just want to know that someone here has a chance of happiness in the next week, Ned. It might as well be you. It’s your turn, after all.” She turned a hand over in her lap and inspected her nails.

“Really?” Ned asked. “That’s all you wanted to say?”

“Of course. I care for your welfare. You know that.”

“What I meant was that you did not use to be so obvious when you were trying to persuade me to divulge my secrets.”

She glanced up sharply, then smiled. “You have grown up, I see. Very well. Are you going to tell me why you are trying to rid yourself of Harcroft and my husband?”

Ned considered this briefly. “No.”

She smiled. “Are you going to share any of your suspicions?” She spoke lightly, as if his suspicions were inconsequential fears that could be divulged in a sentence or two. If he told her everything, she would help him. She would insist on it—she and her husband both. And as much as Ned cared for them, he didn’t want their help. He didn’t want them meddling, interfering in his relationship with his wife.

And he still wanted to prove himself.

Besides, Jenny wanted to go home.

“Suspicions?” Ned parroted.

She cocked her head. Ned forced himself to remain calm under that examination. He took regular breaths, relaxed his shoulders.

“My suspicions,” Ned said, “are mine. And the instant I have information beyond what I possess in the moment, I’ll share with you. You can be sure of that.”

True; everything he knew now, every certain scrap of knowledge, was his. It would take some vast new piece of knowledge to get him to betray what he knew.

“You know,” Jenny said too casually, “before you arrived in this room, Harcroft said he suspected Kate was maligning him. That she might have precipitated his wife’s flight.”

Any answer—or no answer—would betray too much. Ned rubbed his chin, as if he could scrub off the weight of her attention. He couldn’t, though; she watched him, as clear-eyed as before. Finally, he met her gaze head-on. “And does that arouse your suspicions as to Kate or Harcroft?”

“You also didn’t use to answer my little prompts with questions. I should have liked to ask you the same thing, as it turns out. And as it turns out…I don’t know. Neither. Both. Maybe. Harcroft is a moody fellow. I can’t quite put my finger on him.”

Saying Harcroft was moody seemed a bit like saying that an unexpected winter storm was a mild inconvenience.

“He’ll never admit it, as he’s one of those men, but this ordeal has left him completely overwrought. If he were a woman, everyone would say he was on the verge of hysterics. I don’t know what else to say, but I am sure that he loves Louisa. He wept when he told us she was missing. He wept, Ned. Imagine what that must mean to a man stuffed as full of pride as he. There have been times I could have happily slapped him—he constantly drops these unthinking little insults to his wife. But he wept.”

“And you?”

“I have not known Louisa—or her husband—well enough to weep. If this information from Chelsea comes to nothing…we must simply wait and hope that Louisa has not come to any harm.” She cocked her head and looked at him. “Or must we?”

Jenny had always been able to ferret out his secrets. But now…

Ned simply looked at her and shook his head. “Trust me.”

Jenny sighed. “Ned, I know you want to help. But this is too important for you to handle on your own.”

He felt a familiar clutch in his stomach. He might have been fourteen years old again, overhearing his grandfather disparage him. To have Jenny, of all people, do it…

“What?” His voice dropped. “Are you saying I can only be trusted with responsibility over unimportant matters?”

“That’s not it. It’s just that this is a very complicated situation. Repaying this debt we owe means a great deal to both Gareth and me. And—”

“Yes. That’s precisely what you’re saying. You can’t claim to trust me in words, and then not actually trust me. What you’re saying now is akin to, ‘Thank you, Ned, for blundering into a situation you can’t handle. Now step aside and let the adults take care of it.’”