‘Yes. Why? Are you going out somewhere?’
Rian waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. ‘Actually, I was planning on spending the night with a rather sexy woman I know.’
Kitty couldn’t summon the smile she knew he was expecting. She stood, one knee cracking like a pistol shot, and sat on a chair. ‘I need to talk to you, Rian.’
He saw that she was serious, and suddenly he was, too. ‘Do you mind if I wash first, or is it urgent?’
She waved him on, and watched as he washed his face, neck, hands and forearms, then fetched him a fresh shirt as he towelled himself off. As he fastened his buttons, Kitty told him, bluntly, what Maureen had said.
Then he sighed. ‘And you want to know if it’s true?’
‘Yes, Rian, I do.’ It felt bad all of a sudden—frightening—and it was because the jealousy had come rushing back.
He rolled one sleeve up to his elbow, then the other. ‘Actually, it is true.’
Kitty’s heart gave a single, nauseating lurch. But the expression on Rian’s face was soft, and she knew he couldn’t be about to hurt her. So she held her breath and waited for him to offer her the explanation that would make things right again.
‘I did go to see her twice. The first time was after the moonlight dance. I went to her house and we spoke in her room. I told her to leave me alone and to stay away from you and from Amber. I insulted her, and she swore I’d pay for it.’ Rian rubbed his hand over his face, and Kitty could see on it regret for his misguided efforts. ‘When Amber and Bao were abducted, I thought she was behind it. So I went to see her again. But I didn’t go inside this time; I stood on the verandah and shouted at her. So, yes, I have been to see her, but not for the reason the O’Hara woman was implying.’
A sense of wellbeing and relief surged in Kitty like a spring tide. ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’
Rian thought about it. ‘I didn’t want you to know. You wouldn’t have wanted me to even try to discuss the matter with her, would you?’
‘No,’ Kitty agreed. ‘I would have preferred you to just keep out of her way.’
‘Well, I thought I had to make myself clearer than that. So I did, and I do believe she got the message. And the second time, well, I was drunk.’
‘I heard you go out that night. I’ve been wondering where you went.’
Rian’s eyebrows went up. ‘Did you? Then why didn’t you say something?’
‘Because I thought that if it was important, you would eventually tell me.’
Recalling what a loud-mouthed nuisance he’d made of himself on Lily Pearce’s doorstep, Rian scowled. ‘Well, as it turned out, it wasn’t. I made a mistake. It wasn’t Lily Pearce at all.’
Kitty let out a long, slightly shuddery breath. ‘Do you know where I thought you’d gone, that night?’
Rian shook his head.
‘I’ve been thinking for weeks that it was you who burned down Searle and Tuttle’s hut. That you might have killed them, then set the hut alight to hide the evidence.’
‘Ah, Kitty, mo ghrá.’ Rian crossed to Kitty’s chair, enfolding her in his arms and pressing her face against his belly. ‘My poor love. That’s a terrible thing to be carrying around with you all this time. Why the hell didn’t you just ask?’
She shook her head but said nothing, content just to listen to the sound of his strong heart beating, and a gurgling rumble as his innards demanded their evening meal. He stroked her hair and rocked her. After a minute, she sat back.
‘In a way, I don’t think I would have minded if it had been you. They certainly deserved it. It wouldn’t have changed anything between us.’
Rian cupped her cheek with a hand and looked down at her, at the complete lack of regret in her dark eyes for what had happened to the two men who had dared to hurt Amber. ‘I understand. You killed for her, and it made me love you even more.’
‘That was different: I had to.’
‘Well, clearly whoever killed Searle and Tuttle thought they did, too. If I knew the man I’d shake his hand, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, I would. Now. But when I thought it was you I was worried the police would get involved. I was worried…’ She blew out her cheeks on a big, weary sigh. ‘Oh God, Rian, I don’t know, it’s all just becoming so fraught here with the hotel burning down and the meetings, and then Amber and Bao and now the soldiers coming and everything. I was frightened that if you had been involved in their deaths, you could have been found out. I mean, there are people everywhere and someone could have seen. And something really awful is going to happen soon, I know it is.’
Rian reached for the brandy bottle and two glasses. ‘Is it? How do you know?’
‘Well, can’t you…sense it?’
Pouring them each a small nip, Rian said, ‘I can’t deny there’s something in the wind. I think everyone’s aware of that. Is it worrying you?’
‘Yes, of course it’s worrying me!’ Kitty replied a little more tersely than she’d intended. ‘There are soldiers everywhere! What if there’s some sort of clash? I saw enough fighting in the Bay of Islands, thank you very much.’
‘They wouldn’t dare,’ Rian said, knocking back his brandy in one go. ‘There are too many diggers. They’d have to get in hundreds more troops.’ His gaze met Kitty’s and he frowned. ‘Wouldn’t you think?’
Kitty stood in the doorway of the shop, waiting for her eyes to become accustomed to the gloom inside, when an unpleasantly familiar voice behind her drawled, ‘Shouldn’t you be at home darning your husband’s socks, Mrs Farrell?’
Kitty knew she should ignore her, but she turned anyway, feeling the muscles in her jaw tighten as she did so. Bloody woman.
Lily Pearce stood a short distance away, smirking up at her. She looked supremely self-satisfied, and Kitty wondered if she had heard what people were saying about Rian and his visits to her whorehouse. If she had, no doubt she was delighted. In which case, Kitty knew she should walk away immediately, but she stepped across the verandah and down onto the street. ‘I’m not sure that it’s any business of yours what I do, Miss Pearce.’
‘Rian told me you’re quite the homebody,’ Lily said conversationally, twirling her parasol and watching Kitty closely for a reaction. ‘During one of his visits to my house, this was.’
Kitty tightened her grip on her shopping basket. ‘Miss Pearce,’ she said loudly, mindful that several people nearby were now happily listening, ‘this is a charade. We both know that my husband has never visited you for the purposes of engaging your…professional services. And please do not refer to him by his Christian name.’
Lily laughed gaily. ‘Oh, dearie me. I don’t know what he’s told you—nothing, I expect, since most men don’t discuss such matters with their wives—but he most certainly did visit me for the purposes of engaging my professional services.’ She tapped her painted lips with an index finger and her gaze shifted skyward as if trying to remember something. ‘Mmm, what was it he said? Oh yes, that’s right. He said he was tired of scrag-ends in his bed every night and had a hankering for choice tenderloin.’
There was a gasp from the small but growing knot of spectators. Kitty felt her breath catch in her throat, even though she knew damned well Rian would never have said any such thing. She made an almighty effort to rein in her rapidly inflating anger and said, with icy dignity, ‘Are you sure he didn’t say that the other way around, Lily? You are a lot older than I am, after all.’
Lily’s assurance slipped momentarily, but she rallied quickly. ‘The fact is, your husband came to my house, Kitty Farrell, and spent time with me! ’ She shook a triumphant finger at Kitty. ‘And you can’t deny it. How do you feel about that!’
‘Very little,’ Kitty lied through gritted teeth. ‘We’ve sailed around the world many times, my husband and I, and seen women whose beauty and exoticism defies description. If he was ever going to be tempted, I can safely say that it wouldn’t be by someone the likes of you.’
A low oooh emanated from th
e onlookers.
The blow clearly found its mark, and Lily retaliated with a sneer that didn’t quite conceal her discomfiture. ‘Ah, yes, I’d forgotten about your little sailing ship.’ She left a long, calculated pause. ‘Your daughter must be very busy, with all those sailors on board.’
A single second of silence ensued, at the end of which Kitty swung back her hand that gripped the shopping basket and aimed it at Lily’s head. Lily dodged, but the basket caught her tiny hat and knocked it off, taking with it her wig of dark red ringlets. Beneath it, her rather sparse and patchy hair was an ordinary brown colour, pulled into a bun at the back of her head.
Lily screeched, torn between retrieving her wig, which was lying like a small, furry animal in the dusty street, and fighting back. Anger and humiliation won out and she lunged at Kitty. Still incensed with rage at Lily’s vile insinuations, Kitty dropped her basket and struck out with a closed fist, remembering to keep her thumb on the outside as Mick had once shown her. She missed altogether and the force of her punch put her off-balance, and she stepped forward into a stinging slap from Lily’s right hand.
Around them the number of onlookers increased almost instantly, attracted by the fascinatingly awful spectacle of women fighting, especially as one appeared to be a respectable lady. The scandal!
Dimly aware of the crowd forming a circle around her and Lily, Kitty blinked at the vicious slap, mentally shoved aside her mortification at such a demonstration of common vulgarity—fighting in the street, for God’s sake!—and concentrated on the task at hand. She knew Lily would not permit her to walk away from this now; she, Kitty, had thrown the first punch and had humiliated Lily horribly. There would be no civilised apology; it had gone too far for that now.
So, knowing that she was covering herself in a shame she would never live down, she ducked another well-aimed slap from Lily and struck out again, grunting with satisfaction as she knocked the other woman completely off her feet.
Not far down the street, Rian leaned on a shop counter contemplating the piece of jewellery he’d had made. The jeweller, a Russian Jew named Mr Rabinovich, had been delighted to accept the commission—as a master craftsman he’d grown bored over the past year polishing vulgar gold nuggets to be worn on watch chains or making nugget pins to fasten pretentious cravats.
The finished article was lovely. Made from Ballarat gold, naturally—in the new twelve-carat—the brooch was fashioned in the shape of a spray of three forget-me-not flowers. The petals were made from Persian turquoise cabochons, with small but brilliantly sparkling diamonds at their centres. The leaves were of green enamel. Rian didn’t know much about jewellery, but he’d chosen the forget-me-not motif in the hope that Kitty would recognise the sentiment behind it. He knew he was woefully inadequate when it came to putting into words how he felt; and how he felt was guilty, for spending all their money on the claim, even though it was paying out now, and for dragging her all the way out here. She had shown a remarkable degree of tolerance for this latest in a succession of—and even he had to admit this—sometimes ill-considered schemes, and he wanted to do something that demonstrated his appreciation of her patience and her faith in him. And his love for her. He had commissioned the piece a month ago, but the gift was probably even more timely now.
‘It’s very pretty, isn’t it?’ he said appreciatively. He was no connoisseur, but even he could see that the jeweller had done a very fine job.
Mr Rabinovich allowed himself a small smile of self-satisfaction. ‘I think so.’ He tilted the brooch so that the diamonds caught the sun streaming through the shop window. ‘It was a very satisfying piece to make. However, I had to go to Melbourne to visit a colleague for the glass powder for the enamel. I did not have the perfect colour here.’
Rian flapped his hand dismissively. ‘I trust you’ve added the expense to the fee. And were you able to attend to the other matter?’
Reaching under the counter, Mr Rabinovich retrieved a slender, muslin-wrapped package, and carefully opened it to reveal a single sprig of freshly cut ivy. ‘I did not pick it myself, you understand. It transpires that the only source of ivy in this town is in somebody’s lovingly tended garden, so I paid an urchin to steal it.’ He rewrapped the ivy, placed the brooch in a red velvet case, wrote the final figure for the work on a scrap of paper and handed all three to Rian. ‘I hope your wife enjoys her new jewel, Captain. It has much style and elegance, as I’m sure she does herself.’
Rian paid the bill, slid the case and the ivy into his jacket pocket and said proudly, ‘Yes, she has considerable style, my wife. Good day to you, Mr Rabinovich.’
Outside, Rian mounted Finn and set out along the street, heading back towards Malakoff’s Lead. A short distance on he noticed a crowd of about fifty people, and as he approached he saw that in the centre of it two women were rolling on the ground, kicking and slapping the hell out of each other. God almighty, he thought with distaste as he steered Finn around the ruckus.
But something suddenly made him stop. Christ! That hair—it was the exact shade of raven black he woke next to every morning. Leaping off Finn, he thrust the reins at a spectator and elbowed his way into the circle.
It was Kitty, all right. He reached down, grabbed her elbow and hauled her to her feet. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing!’
‘What does it look like!’ she hissed hysterically. Her hair had come out of its customary chignon and was tangled and dishevelled, one sleeve of her dress had torn under the armpit, and there was a large smear of dirt across her cheek.
Rian glanced at Lily, sitting on the ground glaring at them. ‘That bloody shrew of a wife of yours started it!’ Lily accused in a pathetic whine, pointing a finger at Kitty.
‘For God’s sake,’ Rian said, and angrily led Kitty away. But a second later he was almost knocked over as Sergeant Coombes barged through the crowd, his nightstick in his hand.
‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.
‘That woman assaulted me!’ Lily shrieked, having suddenly rediscovered her voice, and pointing again at Kitty. ‘I want her locked up!’
‘Ah, you probably deserved it, Lily,’ Coombes replied wearily. He put away his stick and hauled Lily up off the ground.
‘My wig, my wig!’
Coombes retrieved Lily’s wig. It had been severely trampled on, and would require a fair bit of ministering to restore it to its former glory.
Rian, watching the interaction between the two of them, suspected a familiarity born of more than just a casual acquaintance. He gripped Kitty’s arm more tightly, propelling her out of the crowd. ‘Come on, I don’t want to tangle with Coombes.’
But Kitty jerked her elbow out of Rian’s grip. ‘Don’t push me around like a wayward child!’
‘Why not? You were behaving like one. For God’s sake, woman, what were you thinking?’ Rian snatched the reins off the goggle-eyed man with whom he’d left Finn. ‘What are you staring at?’
Correctly assessing Rian’s filthy mood, the man shook his head mutely and stepped smartly away into the dispersing crowd.
‘She was absolutely beastly about Amber, Rian! She said the most awful things!’ Kitty protested, the memory sending her blood pressure soaring again. ‘Bloody witch!’
‘Calm down, calm down,’ Rian said to both Kitty and the horse, as Finn, one rolling eye on Kitty, skittered away.
‘But what was I supposed to do, Rian? Just walk away?’
‘Kitty, I said calm down! ’
Kitty stood still, glaring at Rian, and breathed deliberately in and out through her mouth until she felt her heartbeat begin to slow. Rian watched her, noting the tension drain from her jaw, neck and shoulders as she gradually gained control of herself. He felt his own anger begin to slide away. He couldn’t blame her, really. Lily had obviously said something pretty nasty to make Kitty lash out at her. His wife, Rian knew from personal experience, had quite a temper, but she was only ever moved to violence after extreme provocation.
They started to walk.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked after some minutes. Kitty’s hands had stopped shaking and her breathing seemed to be returning to normal.
She nodded, then gave a watery sniff. ‘I’ve lost my shopping basket.’
‘I’ll buy you a new one. Do you still have your purse?’
Kitty patted the pocket concealed in her skirts, and nodded.
‘Well, that’s something, then,’ Rian said gently. Looping Finn’s reins over his arm, he dug around in his own pockets until he located a slightly grubby kerchief. ‘Stop for a minute, will you?’ Moistening a corner with spit, he gently wiped the smear of dirt from Kitty’s cheek then swept her hair back over her shoulders. ‘There, now you don’t look like you’ve just got out of bed.’
‘I don’t go to bed with dirt all over my face!’ Kitty protested. They looked at each other, then burst into smothered giggles. ‘Oh God, Rian, I’ll never live it down! What are people going to think?’
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. ‘They’ll think whatever they’re going to think, love, and there’s not a thing you can do about it. So forget about it. Come on, I’ll take you home, shall I?’
‘No, I’m working in the bakery this morning. I’m only supposed to be out buying a pound of salt.’
‘Well, I’ll escort you to the shop, then.’
Together they walked along the street until they reached the bakery, their boots clattering on the floorboards as they entered.
Pierre and Leena looked up, their jaws dropping when they saw the state of Kitty.
‘Ma! What happened?’ Amber cried as she lifted the hatch in the counter and darted through.
‘Your mother became involved in a bout of fisticuffs,’ Rian said matter-of-factly, exchanging a look with Pierre.
‘Fist-icuffs? Who with? Ma, are you all right?’ Amber demanded, picking a twig out of Kitty’s hair.
‘I’m fine, sweetheart, don’t fuss. I’m sorry, Pierre, I didn’t get the salt.’
‘Lily Pearce provoked her,’ Rian explained.
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