Highlander Undone

by Connie Brockway

  “You did?” she asked, stung by this second betrayal. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I suspected, just as you did.”

  She shook her head. “I did not.”

  “You are a perceptive woman, Addie. That Jack Cameron is in no manner an artist could not be more apparent. And really, Addie, where else could a man get scars such as Cameron bears? Palette knives?” His gentle mockery brokered no answering smile because she had none to give. But he was right. It all seemed so obvious now.

  “You chose to delude yourself. Who was I to question that?” And then he added, more quietly, “You have fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

  She looked away.

  “Haven’t you?”

  She gave up. “Can you believe anyone could be so self-destructive?”

  “Addie,” Ted said. “You didn’t deserve what Charles did to you.”

  “Didn’t I?” She looked up at him. Her eyes were clouded with self-doubt. “Doesn’t anyone who loves foolishly deserve what happens to them? If I’d been smarter, or less willful, less romantic, I would have seen what Charles was. I would have known. I should have known. Everyone told me. God, Ted, even his own parents told me. And now, I’ve done it again.”

  “No, Addie.”

  “You said so yourself. I refused to see what was right before my eyes.”

  “It’s different with Jack.”

  “How can I know that?” she asked poignantly.

  “Your heart—”

  “My heart is a fool.”

  “Addie, one mistake—”

  “Two.”

  “Jack Cameron is not like Charles. I’d stake my life on it.”

  “But would I bet mine?” she asked, and buried her face against Ted’s shirt and wept.

  What I want to know is why they picked that particular house,” Jack said to the grizzled old veteran sitting across from him. His satisfaction at finally having found someone willing to talk about last night’s aborted robbery was bittersweet. It was impossible to say how much the man knew and how much he was making up in order to get a free drink.

  He’d been chasing down even his most tentative army connections, calling in conscience dues from every man he could think might be persuaded he owed him something. He’d hunted amongst the dockside taverns and the low-rent serving houses, asking questions, loosening suspicious tongues with cheap drink. Finally, finding his way here, to this man.

  “Thirsty sorta mornin’, ain’t it, Cap? Could do with a spot more to drink.”

  Jack shoved the bottle across the stained and greasy plank table. The soldier grabbed the bottle and emptied it into his cup. “Thanks kindly, sir. Now, why it were that house I don’t rightly know, Cap.” He furrowed his brow. “But if you’ve set your sight on finding Hal and Joey, you can ferget it. They’re gone. Disappeared like they never was. Probably jumped a steamer if they got wind of yer askin’ questions.”

  He didn’t want Hal and Joey. He wanted whoever had sent Hal and Joey. “Why did they choose that house?”

  “I wouldn’t even be talkin’ wid ya like this if you weren’t captain to me old mate, Jim Gill. He says hows youse always took care o’ the lads. That counts fer somethin’. So, I’ll give ya this.” The old soldier leaned forward, his rheumy eyes sliding back and forth. “It were set up by some other bloke, a bit of hire work, and it weren’t jewels they were sent for.”

  “What was it then?”

  The man flopped back in his seat, fiddling with the empty bottle until Jack motioned the bartender to bring them another.

  “Don’t know exactly. But Joey was pleased as a whore on leave day. Said some bloke was paying him twenty quid for a spot of starring the glaze and lifting some papers, maybe a photograph? Weren’t payin’ him much heed when he was jabberin’.” The old soldier dried his lips with the back of his sleeve. “Youse wouldn’t be carrying a bit of the powder?”

  “No. Who was the bloke?”

  The man, clearly disappointed there’d be no cocaine to chase his whiskey with, shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t never say. Some toff.”

  “How would this toff find them in the first place?”

  “I tells you, I don’t know,” the man said querulously. “Hal just says something about it not being the first time he’d taken orders from this bloke. I do recall thinkin’ it was funny, the way he said it like that. Orders. Just like he was back in the army.”

  Jack tossed a crown to the filthy tabletop before leaving. He’d wager everything that he knew who had given those orders. But then, he already had.

  Paul Sherville waited fifteen minutes after the butler announced Jack Cameron before going to meet him. He wanted Cameron impatient, angry. An impatient, angry man was much more likely to reveal his strengths and weaknesses.

  The ex-corporal whose interesting talents he’d made such good use of in the Sudan had botched this job. Then he’d had the temerity to come whining to him about his pierced shoulder, asking for money. Sherville bounced his heavy knobbed walking stick in his hand. Hal wouldn’t be bothering him again. He and Joey were well out to sea by now, with no return in sight.

  He paused outside the library to study Jack from the shadows. He was mildly surprised by the man’s appearance. He’d expected to find Cameron tricked out in his adopted satin and frills. Instead, he wore an ordinary coat and trousers, only the absence of a neckpiece and the crumpled collar noteworthy. That and his face.

  Gone was the supercilious expression. His face looked haunted and strained, lines bracketing his mouth and deeply scoring his lean cheeks. He looked . . . dangerous. Apparently he’d abandoned his guise.

  For a second, Sherville wondered if perhaps he should just refuse to see Cameron. No. He’d outsmarted half the commanders in the Middle East. No mere captain could prove a worthy adversary.

  “My, Jackie,” he said, sauntering into the room. “What’s happened to your velvet breeches? Did you wear out the knees?”

  He’d thought to provoke Cameron and was nonplussed when he turned casually. Sherville took an involuntary step back from the devilish lights gleaming in Cameron’s cursed cold eyes.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Cameron suggested softly.

  “Why, whatever do you mean?” Sherville asked, striving to regain his aplomb.

  “I know you were the officer who aided the slavers in North Africa.”

  “Have you gone mad? What are you talking about?” Sherville asked, pleased at the outrage in his voice.

  “I suspect you somehow manipulated troop movements to account for the twenty-four-hour delay in Gordon’s rescue. Perhaps you were in contact with the Mahdi. You must have realized Gordon had found you out.”

  Cameron didn’t have any proof. If he had, he’d be at Whitehall now, telling his masters. He was bluffing.

  Sherville clapped politely. “Have you given up the—now just what was it you were supposed to have been? Oh, yes. A woodworker. Have you given up the chisel for the pen, Cameron? Because I vow, this is quite a fascinating piece of fiction you’ve manufactured.”

  “I’m not in the mood for games.”

  “Really? Then maybe you’ll tell me exactly what you are doing here, smelling like a dung heap and making offensive accusations? Quite uncivilized, old chap. We aren’t in the cesspools of Africa or Afghanistan anymore.” He waited eagerly to see how Cameron took the news that his ridiculous charade had been discovered.

  Cameron did not blink. “I’ve come to tell you that you’re going to pay for your crimes, Sherville,” he said. “And I’m going to make it happen.”

  And now, for the first time, Sherville felt a real chill of apprehension. He turned away to mask his fear. Nothing, in a career and life that exulted in danger, had ever looked so lethal to him as Cameron’s cold smile.

  “Get out,” he said. He was trying to provoke him into making some admission.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll have you put out.” He could hear the sh
rillness in his own voice but was powerless to prevent it.

  “Please. Try.” Again, that flickering, dangerous smile. “I have one more thing to say. One more issue we must discuss. If I find out you hired those men to break into Addie’s house last night, I will come back, and I promise, you will not enjoy the visit.”

  He masked his fear by sneering. “Addie, is it?”

  He didn’t see Cameron move. One instant he was smirking at the man, the next he was dangling by a viselike grip on his lapel, inches from Cameron’s hot, gleaming eyes.

  “Yes. Addie. And whether or not you had those men in her house last night, know this: If you ever, ever threaten her again, directly or indirectly, I’ll tear your spine out.”

  Cameron shoved him away. Sherville stumbled and fell into the chair behind him. By the time he looked up, Cameron was gone.

  He was afraid and with good reason. But he had to be careful. Cameron would be watching closely, anticipating a hasty, panicked next move on his part. He would be disappointed.

  As of yet, Cameron might have no proof.

  And by God, he had to make sure he never did.

  “The man you are looking for is Sherville,” Jack announced as soon as he’d been ushered into the morning room where Colonel Halvers was enjoying his first cup of tea. “He hired two thugs to enter the Hoodless townhouse to steal some papers or photographs that I believe incriminated him.”

  “Hoodless was blackmailing Sherville?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good God.” Halvers set his cup down and leaned forward excitedly. “And you know where these men are?”

  “No.” The frustration he felt at having been unable to locate Hal and Joey burned him again. “I found a man who overheard the thieves boasting in a dockside tavern prior to the robbery attempt. Unfortunately I haven’t been able to find them . . . yet.”

  “But this man heard them mention Sherville by name?”

  Unhappily, Jack gave a single negative shake of his head.

  Halvers’s mouth tightened in disappointment. “Then you don’t know whether they were successful.”

  “No. But I don’t believe they were. We came upon them in the act and they fled.”

  “Is Mrs. Hoodless all right?”

  “She is physically unharmed.”

  Halvers studied Jack in silence a moment before speaking. “Do you have access to Hoodless’s personal belongings?”

  “No.”

  “Can you get access?”

  “No,” Jack spat out the word, his admiration for Halvers dimming.

  Halvers made an impatient movement with his hand. “Then, if you refuse to help us in this matter, I fail to see what you are doing here.”

  “I want protection for Mrs. Hoodless,” Jack said tersely. “If the thieves did not secure whatever they were looking for, Mrs. Hoodless may still be in danger.”

  “Be reasonable, Cameron. I can’t have an armed escort accompany Mrs. Hoodless on the merits of a random robbery—No. You’ll let me finish.

  “You have nothing on which to base your speculations about the supposedly nefarious purpose of this robbery but the word of a drunk. He couldn’t even tell you the name of the man he said hired them. You assume it is Paul Sherville. You may be right but, damn it, you have no proof, only speculation. That alone is not enough to convince the War Office to protect your widow.”

  “She isn’t mine.”

  “A poor choice of words,” Halvers said.

  “Colonel, I spoke to Sherville. I would lay my life he is your traitor.”

  “Damn it, Cameron! You have put him on his guard!”

  “No, sir. I have pushed him past his guard. And that is why you must protect Addie Hoodless. He will be nearly frantic to get the evidence he is certain is in the Hoodless house.”

  Halvers pursed his lips and stared thoughtfully. Jack waited. Finally, Halvers looked up.

  “I’ll have a man watch her house, but only for a while. And let me say this, if you are correct and this supposed evidence is still at large, I suggest you see if you can search for it before Sherville does. For her safety.”

  “I would rather ask her to do so herself.”

  “Ask a woman to hunt for evidence that her husband was at best a blackmailer and at worst a traitor? Essentially ask her to not only secure her own position as a social pariah for the unforeseen future but also her family? This beloved and upcoming society painter? What do you think the chances are of her complying?”

  “Excellent,” Jack clipped out without hesitation. Yes, it would hurt her. It would torment her to know that she had contributed to the Hoodlesses’ disgrace, her brother’s downfall, but she would choose justice.

  “I wish I were as sanguine. But I’m not. Even if she does agree to search for it, how hard do you think she will look? How thorough do you think she will be? Or even can be, knowing what is at stake?”

  “The devil take you!” The words erupted from Jack’s throat.

  “Quite likely.”

  “You seem to have manipulated me into being your sneak thief very adroitly, Halvers.”

  “I have merely taken advantage of the situation as it presents itself. In my position, you would do the same.”

  “Do you sleep well, Colonel?” Jack asked bitterly.

  “About as well as you, I expect.”

  Take pity on the man. He’s been begging to see you for days,” Ted said.

  “No,” Addie said.

  “If nothing else, you owe it to yourself to hear him out.”

  “I owe it to myself to get on with my life. Nothing Jack Cameron—Captain Cameron—has to say matters to me.”

  “‘Get on with’ your life?” Ted asked. “Is that what you call this? Sitting in this damn room?”

  “I like this damn room.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a fine room, as long as it doesn’t become a prison.

  “Listen to me, Addie. I don’t like what Cameron did. But you need to hear his reasons for what he did precisely because you do need to get on with your life—whether with or without Jack Cameron. As it is, you’ll forever be dodging him, worrying about a chance encounter.”

  “I just need time. A few more weeks.”

  “Dear sister,” Ted said gently, “don’t you see that you’re repeating your history? This is exactly what you did after you married Hoodless. You hid away from society and friends and family. It seems to be your standard self-imposed sentence for assuming people aren’t what they appear to be: life in limbo.”

  He was right. She had hidden away from the hurt, gone to ground. And she didn’t want to do it again, because much of the past few months, she had felt whole again. She’d approved of herself.

  She already missed that.

  “Lord, Addie,” Ted was saying. “You should see the man. He looks terrible.”

  “Good!” She could not help saying it. “Good! But I still won’t see him.”

  “Addie, let me say one more thing and after that I promise I won’t pester you again.”

  She nodded mutely.

  “You never allowed Hoodless to destroy you. You retreated from the battle but you didn’t let him win. Don’t let him win now.”

  “This hasn’t anything to do with Charles,” she cried softly.

  “It has everything to do with Charles. Don’t let him achieve in death what he could never do when he was alive.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Make you give up on yourself—on the life you could have—on the love you could have.”

  “Jack doesn’t love me.” It didn’t matter that Jack had said he did. He’d said a lot of things. Most of them lies. Indeed, right after he had told her how much he loved her, she’d discovered his betrayal.

  “Then see him. Make sure,” Ted insisted.

  The thought of seeing Jack again, however painful, was like a siren call. Perhaps she did need to see him. She needed to see what about him had made her so blind, had made her repeat the old habit
of self-destructiveness.

  “All right,” she said. “But not here. I’ll see him at the Merritts’.”

  She must hold her head up. She must not let him see how he had hurt her. She must be composed; she must be serene. Taking a deep breath, Addie handed the footman her gloves and coat.

  “May I say it is a real pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Hoodless,” a dignified voice spoke from above. Addie looked up to see Wheatcroft coming down the stairs. He made a dismissive motion to the footman as he said, “I will show Mrs. Hoodless the way. Lord and Lady Merritt are in the morning room.”

  “Together?” she asked in surprise as they walked down the Merritts’ marble-tiled main hallway.

  “Yes, ma’am. Together. I shall inform Captain Cameron of your arrival. He has retired upstairs.”

  “Oh?” She tried to sound nonchalant. “He is unwell?”

  “No, Madame. He is not ill. But as the lunch hour passed, he became convinced you had forgotten your kind acceptance of his invitation and . . . well.”

  “I see.” She was late. He’d assumed she wasn’t coming.

  “In the meantime, Lord and Lady Merritt will be pleased for your company.” He bowed as he pushed the door to the morning room open and retreated, murmuring, “I shall inform the captain of your arrival.”

  “Thank you, Wheatcroft.”

  In the morning room, she was confounded by the sight of Lord and Lady Merritt huddled together on a small mint-green divan, their hands entwined. In the light of their long estrangement, the sight of them together was so unexpected that Addie stopped short. Both the Merritts were dressed soberly—Lady Merritt’s dark gray gown and Lord Merritt’s somber suit coat more befitting a funeral than a morning at home.

  “Lord Merritt?” she asked when neither seemed to notice her entrance. Lord Merritt blinked up at her. She remembered him as a blustering, vigorous man with a booming voice. He was still muscular looking, his shaggy white head sitting squarely on his bulky shoulders. But the aggressive self-confidence had disappeared from his florid features. He looked confused, aggrieved, like a small boy who’d had his favorite slingshot taken away.