by Candace Camp
Eve glanced at him, a little surprised by his perspicacity. She would not have considered Colonel Willingham a particularly intuitive or sensitive man. He had been kind to her but in a rather uncomfortable, masculine way. She realized now, somewhat abashed, that he must have more depth to him than his strict military manner showed.
She thought of the letter she had received the day before and the worries that had plagued her since, thoughts that she was afraid to share with anyone else. But Colonel Willingham had known Bruce; he was aware of the kind of man her husband had been. He would know better than anyone that Bruce could not be guilty of the things he had been accused of in the letter. He would be able to consider the matter judiciously and help her decide what to do.
Impulsively she said, “Yes, I have received letters . . . about Bruce.”
“About the major?” His eyebrows went up. “What do you mean? From friends of his?”
“No. Quite the opposite. If you will wait here just a moment, I will get them for you to read.”
“Of course.” He looked puzzled but nodded in agreement.
Eve flew up to her room and retrieved the letters from their hiding spot, then hurried back to the garden. The colonel was pacing back and forth among the bare rosebushes, and he turned at the sound of her approach.
“Let us go farther along the walk, where we can sit and you can read the letters.” She gestured ahead of them, and they strolled along until they came to the long arbor, where they sat down on a secluded bench and Eve handed him the three letters she had received.
He read through them carefully, in order, and when he had finished he folded them and sat for a moment, staring off to the side. “Poor Bruce,” he murmured at last, and heaved a sigh. Turning, he offered her a sad smile. “Poor Eve. I had hoped you would never find out.”
Eve felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. “Wh-what? What are you saying? You think it is true?”
“Your husband was a good man,” he told her earnestly. “I am sure he would never have set out to do anything dishonest. But he was not wise with his money.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
“He had gambling debts. I had heard rumors that they were very high. And some said, well, that he had taken to some shady activities to get the money to pay them. Even robbery.”
Eve stared at him, unable to speak. She could not believe what she was hearing. “Do you know this for a fact? Or was it only rumors? Did he admit to you that he had stolen that watch?”
“Bruce did not tell me that. He would have been too ashamed, I’m sure. But I have heard the stories from people I trust. I am sure you must have noticed the change in him before his death.”
Eve thought back, trying to remember. It did seem that Bruce had been quieter, even sad, the last day or two before he died. But she was not sure if she actually remembered that or if she was simply responding to the colonel’s suggestion.
“You think he killed himself?” she asked in a choked voice.
“I do not know. I think those of us who loved him must remember him as he was. You must not think of those last days or what Bruce might have done. If he stole, he was not himself.”
Eve stared down at her hands, knotted in her lap. She could not bring herself to look at the colonel. She was, she realized, furious at the colonel for not trusting Bruce, for believing that he could have violated his honor by stealing. It was illogical, she knew. Obviously there must have been many rumors, and they must have been very convincing for the colonel to accept them.
“Perhaps this watch was something he stole,” Willingham suggested.
“But it says ‘For my beloved wife.’” Eve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I . . . thought he was going to give it to me on my birthday.”
“Dear Eve.” The colonel leaned forward, taking her hand comfortingly between his. “Do not grieve. I hate to see you unhappy. Let me help you. I will take this watch and get rid of it for you—toss it in the river.”
“No!” Eve cringed at the thought. “I cannot. I cannot believe that he stole it.”
“But it could have been engraved for some other wife,” Willingham pointed out gently. “Did it say your name?”
Eve shook her head. “No, but—”
“I don’t know how Bruce would have had the money to buy you so expensive a present, especially given his straitened circumstances,” the colonel went on. “Please, my dear, do not fret yourself. Would you not feel better if I took the object away? That seems to be what this person wants.”
“But I don’t want to give him what he wants!” Eve’s temper flared. “What kind of person would threaten me this way? He wants to blacken Bruce’s name and ruin my life. I cannot buckle under surely. It would be an insult to my husband’s memory.”
“But you cannot want this to come out,” the colonel said, and Eve thought she heard the slightest crackle of irritation in his voice. “What if he tells the earl? Or spreads this rumor through the ton? It could ruin you. I do not want to see that happen.”
“Neither do I,” Eve agreed. “Perhaps you are right. It would be more practical to do as he says. But he would still have that threat to hold over me. There is no way I can stop anyone from spreading gossip. And how is he to know that I’ve gotten rid of the watch? Why would he want me to anyway? It makes no sense. He does not even ask me to give up the watch in the last letter.”
“That is true.” He was silent for a moment. “It is your decision, of course. Perhaps you ought to think about it a bit more. I am, of course, ready to help you in whatever way I can. Just send me word, and I shall do everything I can to help you.”
“Thank you, Colonel.” Eve gave him a weak smile. “I think that I shall stay here for a while, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. You need to get your thoughts in order. I shall see myself out.” Willingham bowed over her hand again and walked away.
Eve closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wooden latticework frame of the arbor. She suspected that the colonel was a bit miffed with her for not taking his advice. No doubt it was the sensible thing to do.
But she could not bring herself to believe what the letter said about Bruce. He could not have been a thief. He could not have been so dead to honor. And he would not have killed himself, leaving her alone to face possible scandal. Bruce had been a far better man than that, and it hurt, she realized, that his commanding officer believed him to be a thief and perhaps a suicide.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She ached for the pain that Bruce would feel if he knew that his good name was being trampled. She could not turn against him, too.
“What, crying, my dearest?” Fitz’s voice sounded softly above her head, and his hand brushed her cheek, wiping away the trail of her tears.
“Oh!” Eve’s eyes flew open, and she sat up, hastily dabbing at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I did not know anyone was about.”
“Only me. Don’t worry.” He sat down on the wooden bench beside Eve and looked into her face, frowning a little. “Why are you out here crying? Camellia has not taken a turn for the worse, has she?”
“No, oh no, nothing like that. Indeed I think Lily is right and she is improving.”
“Lily and Neville? I may have come up with a way to help in that regard.”
“Really?” Eve looked at him with interest. “How? What are you going to do?”
He shrugged. “I will tell you if it works. But right now the important thing is what is troubling you. Has someone hurt you?” His brows snapped together darkly. “If that idiot Gordon has said something to offend you, I’ll have his hide.”
“No.” Eve chuckled and reached out to lay a pacifying hand on Fitz’s arm. “Do not take poor Mr. Harrington to task. He is much chastened today and has not given me the least insult, I assure you. Indeed, he even offered to read to Monsieur Leveque this afternoon. Though,” she added judiciously, “I am not sure that went as well as one would hope, as
I heard Monsieur Leveque shouting, ‘Imbecile!’”
Fitz grinned at her words. “Gordy must have been in Leveque’s room, then.” He sobered and reached out to take her hand in his. “Tell me, if it is not my foolish cousin, what is it that has brought this unhappiness to you?”
Eve hesitated. She had told herself that she would not reveal the letters to Fitz. There had been, as she remembered, many reasons she had thought it would be a bad idea. But looking at Fitz now, she could not remember any of them. Of all the people in the world, she realized, she trusted Fitz the most.
“I got a letter the other day,” she said finally, and the hard knot in her chest eased even as she said the words. She went on to explain the letters she had received, reaching into her pocket to pull out the three sheets and hand them to Fitz.
He read them through one by one, and as he read his expression grew darker. Eve braced herself for his denunciation of Bruce. Instead, when he finished, he crumpled the last letter in his hand, saying, “I’d like to get my hands on the neck of whatever scoundrel sent these!”
Eve relaxed, a faint smile touching her face. “I’m not sure that would be the best idea.”
“Who the devil would try to upset you this way?” he went on. “Sabrina is spiteful, and it’s clear she’s jealous of your beauty, but I cannot imagine even her playing such a vicious trick. What purpose would it serve?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea who it could be. I don’t understand what he wants. He has not asked for money—not that I have any to give him. He didn’t even ask for the watch, which is the most expensive thing I own. He suggested I destroy it.”
“It makes little sense,” he agreed, shaking his head as he ran his eyes over the last letter again.
“I keep wondering if it could be true. If Bruce really could have done such a thing. He was foolish with his money; there were times when it drove me mad. But his honor meant more to him than life itself, I think. Could he have stolen? Could he have taken his own life?” Eve turned to look at him, aware suddenly of how much his answer meant to her.
“I never met your husband, so I don’t know anything about him except that he had the great good sense to marry you.” Fitz smiled and raised her hand to his lips. “But you loved him.”
Eve nodded. “Yes, I did.”
“I do not believe that you would love a weak or immoral man. So no, I don’t think Bruce did these things.”
“Oh, Fitz!” Eve felt as if the sun had suddenly risen inside her. She threw herself into his arms and kissed him.
His arms tightened automatically around her, and for a few minutes they were lost to the world. When at last their lips parted Eve settled herself against his chest, warm and contented.
“I am so glad you said that,” she told him. “So very, very glad.”
She could hear the low rumble of his laughter against her ear as it rose from his chest. “So am I, now. Did I pass a test?”
“No.” Eve smiled. “It wasn’t a test. But the instant you said it I realized how much I wanted you to believe as I did. To see that Bruce was not a thief or a scoundrel. Even his colonel believed the rumors.”
“His colonel? Willingham? What does he have to do with it?”
“He paid us a visit. He guessed something was wrong, so I showed him the letters. That’s why I had them in my pocket. He told me there had been rumors that Bruce had been stealing things to pay his gambling debts. Even rumors that he had killed himself, as that letter said.”
Fitz snorted. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t like that man.” He tightened his embrace and pressed his lips against her hair. “Darling girl, I fear we are not being prudent.”
“I know.” Eve sighed. It had been so pleasant, so warm and comforting—and yes, just a little bit arousing—to cuddle with Fitz this way. She wished that she could kiss him again, that she could lie in his arms and listen to the steady thud of his heart beneath her head.
She could feel the heat stirring in her loins, the prickling and anticipation. That one night had not been enough, not nearly enough. It had not been even a week since they had made love, but it seemed like forever. Eve squeezed her legs together against the small throbbing ache that had started there and thought about the possibility of tiptoeing down the hall tonight. If she went to Fitz’s room, she suspected he would not send her away. Did she have the nerve?
She forced herself to pull away and sit once again on the bench beside him. She brushed at her skirts and hair, doing her best to control her unruly thoughts as well.
Fitz turned to her, and there was a warmth in his eyes that told Eve that he had no more wanted to end their embrace than she had. “I have the devil of a time keeping my hands off you. I can hardly follow the conversation at the dinner table for thinking about you.”
“Everyone is retiring earlier these days. Perhaps . . .”
He reached out and took her hand, twining his fingers through hers. “You tempt me.” He was silent for a moment, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. “But no, I swore not to put you in danger. That blasted Gordon would be sure to take it into his head to go downstairs for a brandy at exactly the worst moment. And he is annoyed enough with me to do me harm if the opportunity presents itself.”
With a sigh he set her hand away from his and stood up. “The thing to do, I think, is to concern ourselves with your other problem.”
“The letters.” Eve nodded, suppressing her disappointment. “You are right. I have thought and thought about it, but I remain confused.”
“Did Major Hawthorne have enemies?”
“I presume he did. When one commands soldiers, there are always those who disagree with you or resent you. Men he might have disciplined. Maybe other officers who were jealous of him or who felt they were unfairly passed over. But in general he was well liked, and though I have tried to think of someone who might have a grudge against him, I have been unable to come up with a name. Of course, if someone had threatened him, he probably would not have told me. He wouldn’t have wanted to worry me.”
Fitz nodded. “What about his death? I know this is painful for you, but was it possible that it wasn’t an accident?”
“That he killed himself?” Eve asked.
“I was thinking more of whether someone might have done him harm.”
“Oh.” Eve’s eyes widened. She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I do not think so. He was with some friends. They said he lost his stirrup over a high fence and came out of the saddle. He fell, and his neck was broken. They checked the equipment, and there was nothing wrong. I don’t see how someone could have staged that.”
“So all we know is that he died accidentally, that he gave you this watch, and that someone is accusing him of having stolen it—for what purpose we don’t know.”
Eve nodded, then paused. “Actually he did not give me the watch. I found it afterward. I had never seen it before, but it was obviously a woman’s watch. So I opened it, and I saw the inscription, ‘For my beloved wife.’ My birthday was only a few days after he died, and I assumed it was a birthday present for me.” She frowned. “I don’t really know that it was meant for me. But what else could it have been?”
“I don’t know. No doubt it was a present for you. But what if the major didn’t buy it? What if someone lost it to him in a card game and now he wants it back? Or he sold it to the major and regretted it later.”
“I suppose that could be.” Eve frowned. “But he could have come to me and explained, offered to buy it back from me.”
“Unless he hadn’t the money to do so.” He grimaced and dropped back onto the bench beside her. “But if he was so desperate to have it, why wouldn’t he have tried to steal it right there and then? There are bound to have been a number of people in and out of your house at that time.”
“Oh yes, so many people called on me and offered help. Someone could have slipped away and searched for it, I suppose. And some of the men were even in the bedroom at times, gettin
g his uniform and such. But it wasn’t where it was easily seen, you know.”
“So perhaps they did try to find it but couldn’t.”
“Then I moved back to my father’s house. But whoever it is could have written letters like these to me earlier. Why did he wait until now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“And if he wants to recover the watch, why didn’t he say so in the last letter? Why did he tell me to get rid of it, even to destroy it? It’s almost as if he doesn’t care whether he gets the watch, so long as I don’t have it. That is why I first thought of Sabrina—because it seemed so spiteful.”
“I think there’s something more here than just spite. What if it’s not that this person wants the watch back, but he just doesn’t want it seen? You’ll be going to London for the Season with Lily and Camellia. Maybe he figured no one would ever see the watch if you were at your father’s house in the country, but in London someone might recognize it.”
“So if this person wasn’t supposed to have sold it or gambled it away, he would be found out if someone saw me wearing it.”
Fitz nodded. “Or maybe it really was stolen, and the real owner might see it.”
Eve looked at Fitz in dismay. “But I thought you didn’t believe that Bruce—”
“No, I didn’t mean that Major Hawthorne stole it. What if someone sold him a stolen watch? Or used stolen jewelry as collateral for a gambling debt?”
“But I would be the one wearing it. Why would this other person be in any danger?”
“He may not know that the major did not tell you how he obtained the watch. For all he knows you may know exactly who sold it to him or gave it to him. But he hopes to frighten you and intimidate you. And perhaps to deflect suspicion from himself. If there are already rumors floating around that Major Hawthorne was a thief, then who will believe you if you tell them that he bought the thing from someone else?”
Eve nodded. “It makes an awful kind of sense. No doubt he started the rumors after Bruce’s death. That’s why Colonel Willingham thought the letter was true—though I cannot quite forgive him for believing that of Bruce. But how does this man know that I am about to return to London?”