Quickly she jumped from the bed and hurried to the washbasin, where she scrubbed her skin until it was pink and glowing. Working as fast as her fingers would allow, she brushed the tangles from her hair and tied it back with a ribbon. Her toilette completed with haste, she hurriedly slipped on a blue muslin dress and stepped into her shoes.
He didn’t knock when he returned, and somehow it pleased her to turn around and find him watching her tie the ribbons of a white cap under her chin.
“You look angelic, my sweet.” He stood close behind her, his arms wrapping her waist, his cheek brushing hers. She could see his face in the mirror as the corners of his mouth lifted into a teasing smile. “If I did not know how hotly the fire burns inside you, I would—”
She cut his words short. “Are you trying to make me ashamed?”
He spun her around and gripped her shoulders tightly. “No. There is no shame in loving, Amanda. No shame in sharing what we have shared. You must not think it.”
“I don’t,” she whispered softly, tilting her head back and making her parted rosy lips too tempting for him to resist.
His tongue traced the soft fullness of them, explored the soft recesses of her mouth. Amanda moaned lightly. It seemed her body vibrated with new life when he touched her. She loved the feel of him. If only it could last. If only there would be no more hard words between them.
“Please, Ryne, please,” she whispered silently. “Let it last.”
Ryne pulled away from her. “Ahh, sweet bedeviling Amanda.” His voice trembled. “If I do not leave now, I will not go this day.”
She laughed breathlessly. “Then let us go. I could not bear to know I had kept you from your horses.”
Ryne’s countenance turned suddenly serious. “There is one thing more I want to say before I go.” He brushed his fingertips softly against her cheek. “I think we should marry.”
“Marry?” Her lashes flew up. “But, Ryne—”
He silenced her with a raised hand.
“Say nothing now. Think on it. There could be a child, you know.”
“Ryne—”
Again he silenced her. “No,” he whispered. “I have to ride to Richmond for a few days. We’ll talk when I return. Come along, now. You promised to walk out with me.”
He kissed her again before he rode away. She could feel his heart hammering against his chest as his warm, moist lips crushed her mouth. She hoped he knew her answer, that he could see it illuminated in her eyes.
“Good-bye, love,” she whispered.
His eyes blazed down into hers.
“Soon,” he said.
***
She watched him gallop away until he and the horse were only a speck in the distance. Already the sun was hot, even for July. Amanda took the shaded path from the stable to the house, stopping along the way to pick a bouquet of flowers.
She smiled lightly. For once she was sure she had risen earlier than Emma and Trudy. Dear old Gussie would be astonished to see her downstairs at this early hour.
She was arranging her flowers in a bowl on the dining table when Emma came in.
“Why, Amanda.” A look of astonishment touched Emma’s full face. “You are up early. Did you have a bad night?”
“I had a wonderful night,” Amanda answered, her voice bright and sunny.
“Of course,” Emma went on. “You are excited about attending the theater tonight.” Her smile faded. “I only wish Trudy’s and my visit to Williamsburg was on such pleasant business.” Emma sniffed. “Well, no use crying over spilled cream. And Mr. Baldwin is good enough to let us stay at his house so we don’t have to pay for an inn.”
“Dear Emma.” Amanda patted the older woman’s shoulder consolingly. How awful it must have been for her to lose both her husband and her home. In the weeks Amanda had been at Wicklow she had come to know how important one’s home, whether simple or grand, could be. Why, if she were to lose Wicklow, she would be devastated.
“Oh, fuss. Listen to me, complaining when I have my darling niece and you who treat me as your own aunt. The devil take me for my grumbling,” she said as she nervously smoothed the folds of the crisp white handkerchief crisscrossed over her bodice. “Have you had your tea?”
Trudy came down a few minutes later and the three of them shared a simple but delicious breakfast which Gussie served. They talked of the trip to the city, for it had been arranged that they would ride in together. Amanda thought Trudy would be excited about the chance of meeting some other young people, but it seemed the girl had relapsed into the shy, unresponsive mood she had had on first arriving at Wicklow. She hardly glanced at either Amanda or Emma throughout the meal.
“She’s nervous, that one,” Emma said. “Has a young man she’s sweet on and won’t say who.”
“That’s not true, Aunt Emma,” Trudy said quickly. But the way her cheeks reddened, Amanda thought it must be so.
“Perhaps you’ll have a chance to see him.” Amanda smiled at her.
“There’s no one I want to see,” Trudy insisted, her cheeks reddening more.
Amanda left them and went to her room. She had forgotten altogether that she was to go to the theater with Gardner. She laughed to herself. That was what Ryne had done to her thoughts. If it were possible, perhaps she would send her regrets and wait at Wicklow for Ryne’s return. But she hated to disappoint Gardner. He had been too kind and she had promised. Besides, she would certainly be back at Wicklow before Ryan returned.
Amanda packed a dress of sea-green silk for the theater. If her social life were to remain so active, she would have to get busy with her needle. But the green would be wonderful with the emerald earrings. And the blue dress she wore would do for the dusty carriage ride into the city. She packed another for the following day and started into the small sitting room that adjoined her bedroom. As she opened the door, she was deciding what jewelry she would take. The pearls, of course, and the silver chain of Aunt Elise’s—no, it belonged to her now—would be pretty with the blue.
The sitting room, rose-colored like the bedroom, would be pleasant in the winter with a fire going in the grate. She hardly used the room now. The bedroom was much cooler and she had taken little time for reading or resting since she had arrived. But it did contain the small compartment hidden in the mantel and there she had locked up the few pieces of jewelry she had kept, thinking it safer than beneath the gowns in a chest.
She had reason to doubt her wisdom the moment she entered the room, as all the fears and apprehensions she had thought vanished forever came crowding back like a heavy black fog. She had that strange vexing feeling again, as if ice had touched her skin. She had felt the same the day she found the ship’s log in the attic room. She knew, too, though there was no explanation of it, that she was being given a warning to take great care not to trust all those around her.
Amanda glanced cautiously around the room. Someone had lit a candle recently and spilled the wax on the little table by the sofa. The room contained a large writing table as well, and it was that which caught her attention next. Only a few days ago she had polished that table and cleaned the room, so she knew it had been left in good order. But now the drawers of the writing table had been pulled out and left partially open. It came to her instantly that someone had searched the room.
She dashed to the mantel and felt beneath the ornate carving. A sinking anguish came as she pulled the little compartment open. The brooch, the pearl earrings, and the silver chain were gone.
Amanda’s knees weakened and her throat closed up. Oh, no, not Ryne. She wouldn’t think it. She couldn’t. Not after what had happened. Not after what he said. But she could not stop the thoughts that kept reminding her there had been no trouble at Wicklow when he was gone.
***
Amanda rode silently for miles. At last Emma could stand it no more and reached across the seat to pat her hand.
“Now, now. Don’t fret. They’ll turn up. What with all the cleaning and moving we’ve done this we
ek, you might have moved them yourself and forgot.”
“I didn’t. I’m sure of it,” Amanda said sadly, more than the loss of the jewelry troubling her, though the weightier matters she kept to herself.
“I wouldn’t want you to think that Trudy or I—”
“Oh no, Emma, I don’t. And I’m sure Gussie didn’t move them. Either someone has slipped into the house or . . .”
“Or?” Emma’s brows lifted.
“I don’t know,” Amanda answered, feeling a sinking in her stomach. She couldn’t tell Emma she suspected Ryne of taking the jewelry or that he had spent the night in her room.
Emma made a clucking sound. “I think you are making a fuss for nothing. You’ll find the lot of it in your bedroom somewhere.”
Amanda gave a half-smile. “I hope you are right.”
At lunch, Gardner also tried to convince her that the jewelry had only been misplaced and not stolen. But even as he insisted she would find it, she noticed the hidden look of concern in his eyes and was deeply moved that he should care so much.
“I do worry about you, Amanda.” He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Only women out there so far from anyone, and Ryne, I am sure, is never there to offer any protection.”
Amanda dropped her head slightly so that he would not see her blush.
“No. He is not often there,” she said.
Shortly afterward Gardner returned to the distillery and Amanda walked to the jeweler’s to get her earrings. At least she still had the fifty pounds from Mr. Craig and the emeralds. The journey took a little longer than she anticipated because she saw and spoke briefly with several persons she had met at Gardner’s the week before. By the time she arrived at the Golden Ball, she was feeling much better. Wasn’t it possible, as Emma said, that in all the rearranging she had moved the missing jewelry and forgotten?
Mr. Craig, the jeweler, arrived at the shop just as Amanda did. He greeted her by name and they went in together. Amanda took out the little purse that contained the receipt and was surprised to find it empty. Perhaps she had picked up the wrong bag, she thought as she smiled sweetly at the jeweler she had traded with the week before.
“I’m afraid I have lost the receipt, Mr. Craig,” she said. “But surely you have not had anyone else leave emerald earrings for repair.” At least she still had the emeralds, and they were the only pieces of any great value.
Craig laughed. “There are few here who would have any as fine as those. Miss Fairfax. Wait a moment, would you. Let me get Thomas. He did the repair. I have been out of the shop all week.”
Amanda glanced at a gold comb made in a shell pattern and at the beautiful wares of a silversmith while she waited for Mr. Craig. What was taking the man so long?
After a few more minutes the curtain at the back of the shop was pushed aside and Mr. Craig came out, followed by his assistant. She noticed right away the look of strain on his face and the paleness of his assistant as Mr. Craig mumbled to him.
“There is a problem, Miss Fairfax,” Craig stammered.
“What problem?”
“A young lady called for the emeralds no more than an hour ago.”
“But that is preposterous. Why would you release them to anyone but me?”
“Forgive me. Miss Fairfax.” Wringing his hands, Thomas spoke up. “Mr. Craig wasn’t here and I thought the young lady was you. She looked almost the same.”
“But still,” Amanda protested, “you should have made certain.”
“But, Miss Fairfax, see this.” Thomas slid a piece of paper in front of her. “She had the receipt.”
Chapter 11
Amanda looked into those mild blue eyes and thought they were extremely soft and gentle. She had to trust him.
“Someone is tormenting me, Gardner. I do not think it coincidence that first the jewelry at Wicklow disappeared and now the emeralds have been stolen.” She leaned toward him. “Do not forget the chess set. And last week I was deliberately locked in a room the entire night.”
“You did not tell me of that.”
“I knew you thought I was only imagining these things. But now you must believe me. There is a connection among these things. I’m frightened.”
Gardner’s face clouded with uneasiness. “Amanda, I think you should leave Wicklow and stay here with me for a few weeks. It will give you time to think things out, and here nothing can happen to disturb you.” He took her trembling hand in his. “I hesitate to advise it, but perhaps you would do well to follow Cecil Baldwin’s advice and sell.”
“No,” she responded sharply, drawing her hand away. “I won’t. I’ll return to Wicklow tomorrow as planned.”
He stared at her for a moment and then decided there was no point pursuing the topic at present.
“Then try to forget all this for a little while. The Whitneys are dining here with us and then we are joining a party for the theater. Try to enjoy the evening.”
Amanda drew a deep breath and forced herself to grow calm. Gardner was right, as usual. There was nothing more she could do today. The thefts had been reported and an investigation was being made.
The other things that had happened at Wicklow she really did not care to bring to the attention of the authorities. They were no more likely to believe her than Gardner or Cecil Baldwin had been at first, and with all she had to contend with, she did not wish to be termed hysterical as well.
“Yes, I will. And if you would excuse me, Gardner, I would like to take a nap before the Whitneys arrive.”
She heard him leave just before she drifted off to sleep. The distillery kept him extremely busy. Really she didn’t know how he managed it all so successfully, the distillery, the estate he farmed, and an active social calendar. But this fine house and the elegant furnishings bespoke the high measure of his success.
About an hour later she heard him return. Feeling refreshed, she arose and dressed for dinner. She thought the green gown plain without the emerald earrings, but the little gold studs, the only jewelry she had left, would have to do. Well, no matter, Gardner would tell her she looked delightful just as she was. With that thought in mind she went lightly down the stairs to tell him she was ready to receive the guests.
“Have you got it?”
Amanda paused on the stairs. It was the same deep voice she had heard from Gardner’s study before.
“All of it, as promised. And a few coins more so that you will not regret the wait.”
She heard a clinking as if a bag of coins had been dumped onto a tabletop.
“You are not a trusting fellow, my man.”
A gruff laugh sounded. “Not when there is a sum so high as this at stake.”
The coins clinked one by one back into the bag. Amanda turned to go to her room. She had listened longer than she should have, but there was something more.
She shivered lightly. Suddenly she wanted to be very sure Gardner did not find her on the stairs.
***
“Your dress is exquisite, my dear,” said Agatha Whitney, wife of Gardner’s friend Joseph Whitney, a merchant. “But what a shame about the earrings. Gardner has told us of your misfortune. I do hope the culprit will be caught. To think that here in Williamsburg such a thing could happen,” she declared.
“Here as anywhere, my dear,” Joseph Whitney addressed his wife. “A particularly clever crime, though.” He looked at Amanda. “Have you any idea when the receipt was stolen?”
Amanda pursed her lips thoughtfully. She did have an idea. She had thought it through carefully and concluded that the receipt might have been taken at the same time the jewelry was removed from Wicklow. Unless it could be proven otherwise, there was no one she could suspect but Ryne. But so far she had not revealed that suspicion even to Gardner.
“I cannot be sure,” she answered. “But it most certainly must have occurred at Wicklow. The receipt was in a purse which was on my dressing table. It might have been removed at any time during the past week.”
“Then
the question is,” said Joseph Whitney, “who might have known about it?”
“Enough,” Gardner said abruptly. “I have promised Amanda a pleasant evening. Let us turn the conversation to more palatable subjects.”
Amanda found it difficult to fall into the cheerful mood of the gathering, but made a special effort to do so. She chatted with Agatha Whitney, but when the time came to leave for the theater she was glad to go, for during the performance she would have time to search her mind for all the reasons it could not have been Ryne. She needed desperately to find them.
“It will not be a performance such as you are accustomed to,” Agatha Whitney whispered as they took their seats. “Nothing to rival the London theater. We have to make do with this old hall. The acoustics are not the best and the lighting poor. Nevertheless it is the best Williamsburg has to offer, and enjoyable.”
The theater brought an outpouring of memories, both happy and sad. In the few moments before the performance was to begin, Amanda busied herself looking around at the crowd, the women in their colorful gowns.
Almost every seat was filled, and still people were trickling in from the entrance. Hushed whispers filled the air as the actors appeared on the stage. But it was not the start of the production that drew Amanda’s attention. She felt a tight knot form in her stomach as her eyes became riveted on a couple who had just come in, a handsome pair, he with hair black as jets and she in an elaborately coiffed powdered wig.
What more proof did she need? Ryne had lied to her. He had not ridden to Richmond. He was here and being noticeably attentive and charming to his companion. And the woman in the lemon-striped dress was smiling in delight. And why not? He was so suave that any woman would be charmed.
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