“Please, do not turn into a watering pot, either. I think it is clear that Lady Eleanor is not interested in rubbing shoulders with the ton.”
“You think she meant what she said?” Honoria asked with a shrill little laugh. “Really, Anthony, men are so easily misled by a well-turned ankle and a pretty face.”
“It has nothing to do with that. The fact is that as soon as she married Edmund, she could have gotten into the ton.”
“Not among those who count,” Honoria protested with a haughty sniff.
Her brother quirked a quizzical eyebrow. “Come, Honoria, you are not silly, however much you may like to appear so. The Scarbrough name would have gotten her far enough. But she did not go to parties. She did not even stay in London.”
“Of course not. She wanted to get him away from me. She wanted to keep him from everyone he knew and loved.”
“She took him there for his health. All the rest is nonsense that you have made up.”
“She has worked her spell on you, as well!” Honoria exclaimed. “She has turned you against me.”
She burst into tears. Anthony let out a sigh and cast a helpless look toward his niece. Samantha went to her mother and put her arm around her shoulders.
“Mama, I am sure that Uncle Anthony has not turned against you,” Samantha told her soothingly.
“Of course not,” Anthony snapped. “All I am saying is that I think you and I misjudged the woman. I don’t think she will mishandle Samantha’s money. Look at how well she did with Edmund’s funds. She added to them. Clearly she did not take anything from him.”
Sir Malcolm let out a bark of laughter, and Anthony and Honoria turned toward him, startled. He looked at them, then said, “Do you mean to say that you thought she was after Edmund’s fortune?”
“Of course,” Honoria replied indignantly. “A nobody from America maneuvers Edmund into marrying her—what else would she be after?”
“I have no idea about that,” Sir Malcolm answered dryly. “But I doubt that it was for money.” He sent Anthony a disbelieving look. “Really, Neale, did you not check into the woman’s background when she married Edmund?”
Anthony stiffened. “I did not.”
He did not add that he had been so certain that a woman of her beauty had married Edmund only for his money that he had not even made a move to investigate her. Indeed, he realized as he thought about it, he had been reluctant to learn anything more about her, a fact that had not struck him as odd until just this moment.
“Well, I haven’t your gentlemanly reticence,” Sir Malcolm told him with some sarcasm. “I did not relish the thought of losing any portion of my inheritance to an adventuress, so I set my solicitor on it. As it happens, she is an heiress. Her father made a fortune in the States, and when he died, she inherited it all. And increased it a good bit over the years, I might add. She is worth a great deal more than Edmund ever was. As much as you, I imagine.”
He had completely misjudged her.
Anthony’s mind reeled at the thought. It was no wonder that Eleanor hated him. She must have found him to be the very epitome of a British snob, judging her without knowing her at all. Thinking back on it, he could not but wonder at the way he had approached her. Why had he not asked her about herself? Why had he asked no one else about her? He had relied on his sister’s judgment, which was something he never did. He had been hasty, and blind to the truth. None of that was like him—or so he would have said before this.
“Uncle Anthony?” Samantha’s concerned voice cut through his dazed thoughts. “Are you feeling ill?”
“What? Oh. No. That is, I am just thinking.” He looked over at his sister, whose tears had dried and who was also looking at him in a puzzled fashion. “I must take my leave. Honoria. Sir Malcolm. There is—I have pressing business back at the Hall.”
With an abrupt nod, he turned and strode out of the house, calling for his horse. There was no pressing business, of course. The truth was that he simply wanted to be alone. He had to think.
Anthony mounted his horse and turned him toward home, his mind galloping along at a much faster pace. If he was honest—and he usually was, even to a ruthless degree—he knew that it had been Eleanor’s beauty that had sent him stumbling down the wrong path. He had assumed she was after Edmund’s money because when he first saw her, his heart had dropped to his feet. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he had wanted her fiercely.
And that beauty, he had told himself, meant that she was an adventuress, a woman like Viveca, who had taken his father’s heart and turned his mind against Anthony…who had tried to seduce Anthony into betraying his father. He couldn’t believe that this woman, whose beauty took his breath away, could truly love the quiet, gentle Edmund.
Or perhaps he simply had not wanted to believe that Eleanor was in love with Edmund.
The thought brought him up short. He had to wonder if what he had told himself for the past year was true. Had he simply been close minded? Had he actually been jealous? Or had it been something even deeper, more basic?
No, he would not follow that thought.
What he should be thinking of, he told himself, was not the past, but the problems at hand. The first problem, of course, was that Eleanor now hated him—and rightfully so. He doubted that she would even receive him. The second problem was that someone had broken into her room twice, looking for something. Assuming that she was an adventuress, Anthony had also assumed that these break-ins had had something to do with her undoubtedly nefarious past. He had also taken for granted that she knew who the culprit was and what he was after, that she just had not wanted to reveal the answers to him because they painted her in a bad light. She would eventually give the person what he wanted, and the matter would end.
But if she was not an adventuress but a woman of wealth, then in all probability her past had not involved anything nefarious at all. The thefts must be for some other reason altogether, which made them all the more alarming. She was probably telling the truth, that she had no idea what the intruder wanted…unless it was the simple locket containing Edmund’s portrait, which seemed absurd.
This line of reasoning led him to the inescapable presumption that the intruder would return to Eleanor’s house. And having been thwarted twice already, it seemed likely that he might take a more aggressive course of action. The next time, he might attack Eleanor herself.
Anthony kicked his horse into a gallop, his course of action determined. He had to return to London.
“I AM WORRIED about you, Eleanor,” Dario said soon after they left Tedlow Park.
Eleanor, her thoughts elsewhere, turned toward him distractedly. “What?”
“This man, this intruder—I do not like this.”
“Well, I did not care for it, either, I assure you.”
“What could he have been after? A locket? It seems not valuable enough to break into a house to get. No?”
“No, it doesn’t. You are right. It would have little value to anyone but me,” Eleanor agreed.
“And to break into a house two times to get it?”
“We don’t know that this was the same person,” she pointed out.
Dario cast her a dubious look. She shrugged.
“All right, I admit it. It seems very unlikely that the two events are not connected. But it makes no sense.”
“You have no idea what he wants?”
“None whatsoever.” Eleanor shook her head in puzzlement. “I mean, I have some valuable jewelry, but I don’t keep it in my room. It is in the safe. And I would think any thief worth his salt would realize that.”
“It is very puzzling.” He paused, then went on. “I want you to come back to Italy with me.”
“What?” Eleanor stared at him in surprise.
“These dangerous things have happened. It is not safe for you here. You should come back home.”
“But Italy is not my home,” Eleanor pointed out gently.
“It could be,”
he replied earnestly and reached out and took her hand. “Eleanor…”
Eleanor had the uneasy feeling that he was about to wax romantic. She pulled her hand away, saying firmly, “England is where I have to be. Edmund entrusted me with his sister’s future. Not just the money. He wanted me to keep it safe for her, but I feel that he wanted me to help her, to guide her, as well. I cannot do that from afar. I have to be here in England. Besides, what is to say that whoever is doing this would not follow me to Italy?”
“I could protect you there,” he answered. “You could live at my parents’ villa. We would set up guards.”
“No, Dario.” Eleanor smiled, but shook her head. “I cannot do that.”
“I feared you would say that. So…I must do what I can to protect you here.”
“Thank you. That is most kind of you. But I doubt that I am in any danger.”
“How can you say that? After what has happened?”
“I was not hurt either time,” Eleanor reminded him. “I was not even in the house the first time. And last night, he offered me no harm. He was across the room, rummaging through my things.”
“But you do not know what might have happened if you had not awakened and screamed. You were alone and vulnerable. And you are a very attractive woman.”
“Dario…what are you saying? That he might have attacked me?”
“There was nothing to prevent it.”
“Except me,” Eleanor pointed out tartly.
Dario smiled in an indulgent way that spiked Eleanor’s rising irritation. “My dear, I am sure you do not realize what could befall a beautiful woman like you.” Seemingly oblivious of Eleanor’s narrowed gaze, he went on. “And I cannot help but wonder—does it not seem a great coincidence that this person should enter your room on the very night that you are at Lord Neale’s house?”
Eleanor stiffened. “Are you accusing Lord Neale of being the intruder in my room? That is absurd. He was in his room. He had obviously been in bed.”
“You did not see where the intruder went,” Dario reminded her in a reasonable tone. “He disappeared completely. We could find no trace of him. Think how quickly he could have escaped if he had only to run down a door or two. A few seconds to whip off his shirt and shoes—or perhaps he had not even worn shoes. Bare feet make much less sound. Then, when you scream, Lord Neale comes rushing out of his room, looking startled and claiming to have just awakened.”
“The exact same tale would apply to you, as well.”
Dario nodded understandingly. “This is true. But, you see, I have the advantage over you in that I know that I was not the one who did it.”
“Well, I cannot believe it was Anthony, either. He would have no reason.” But Eleanor could not help remembering her thoughts after the first break-in, that Anthony might have orchestrated the whole thing to frighten her into leaving the country and giving up control of the trust. “No, it’s absurd.”
She shook her head. When she had suspected him before, she had not known that he was a man with great wealth of his own. He had no need to control Samantha’s trust. Besides, he was too straightforward a man to devise such a roundabout plan. He was much more likely to confront her and demand that she leave.
“No more unlikely than the thought that someone might have followed us from London in order to look through your things. Without either of us or the coachman noticing.”
“Sir Malcolm and Lady Honoria also knew that I was there.”
“But why would they have done it?”
“Exactly the same question I would ask if it were Anthony. Or anyone else. I have no idea what the man is after.”
“Eleanor, please…let me come stay at your house, where I can protect you.”
“Dario, what would people say?” Eleanor responded, keeping her voice light. “An unmarried man under my roof? It would damage my reputation, and I know you would not want that.”
“My darling Eleanor, I want only what is best for you. I am afraid of what may happen.”
“I am sure I am in no danger.”
“You cannot know that. It seems very likely to me that you were, or that you will be if this man did not find what he was searching for. What if he decides to make you give him whatever this thing is?”
“Then I will give it to him,” Eleanor answered. “I would not value it above my life. And if I were to need protection, I already have it. Zachary and Bartwell are right there in the house, and since the ‘robbery,’ we have kept watch each night.”
Dario spent a few more minutes futilely trying to get Eleanor to change her mind and allow him to protect her, but finally he lapsed into a sulky silence. Eleanor did not mind. She was frankly glad to have a chance to think in quiet.
But no matter how long and hard she thought, she could not come up with any explanation for anyone looking through her things. What could anyone think he would find there?
When she got home, after she had greeted everyone and talked to the children for a while, she went to her bedroom and proceeded to look through all her things, going methodically through each and every drawer, and even through the chest at the end of her bed and the clothes in her wardrobe. She took out every piece of jewelry and laid them out on her dresser, since the intruder had concentrated both times on her jewelry.
She could find nothing that would rouse a thief’s particular interest, especially since he had just looked through them, taking almost nothing. Except the locket. Why had he taken a brooch the first night and the second time the locket? Why not get them both?
Eleanor tried to remember if she had been wearing the locket that first night, in which case he would have been unable to find it. She was relatively certain that she had not. She had worn only jet earrings and the Italian brooch that Edmund had given her.
With a sigh, she returned all her jewelry to the jewelry box and stood for a moment, thinking, drumming her fingers upon the dresser. It occurred to her that the thief might have been looking for something that was among Edmund’s things. He could, perhaps, have mistakenly thought that whatever it was lay in her room.
She walked down the hall to Edmund’s room. She paused inside the door for a moment and looked around. Little of Edmund remained here. She had given away most of his clothes, and the things she had brought home were stored away in chests. One stood at the foot of the bed, and another was against the wall.
Eleanor had looked in here before, after the first theft. But that time she had merely looked to see if anything had been disturbed. She had not searched through everything to see if there was something here a thief might be after.
She pulled up a stool and sat down to go through the first chest. There was a small box containing a few cuff links and stickpins that Edmund had worn. He had not been a man given to much jewelry, and what few things he had were usually made of onyx or pearl, except for one bloodred ruby stickpin. The rest of the chest yielded nothing.
She went to the other chest and dug through it, as well. Finally, admitting defeat, she stood up and closed the lid. As she turned to leave, her eyes fell on the rosewood box that stood upon the dresser. She paused, feeling a pang of sorrow.
The box, about a foot and a half long and a foot wide, was Edmund’s traveling writing kit, and he had taken it with him on any journey he made, even if it was only for a few hours. It carried music sheets, already lined, and pencils, as well as an inkhorn and sharpened quills, which Edmund preferred to the new steel pens. With this portable writing desk, Edmund was able to jot down music wherever inspiration might strike him.
Eleanor reached out and ran a hand across the smooth top of the box. She opened the lid, looking down at the writing supplies inside. It was then that she remembered there was a secret compartment in the writing kit. Edmund had taken a childish pleasure in the secret drawer and had proudly shown Eleanor how it operated.
What if he had placed something of value in it?
Eleanor ran her fingers lightly over the wood, searching for the narrow lines
that would indicate a compartment and trying to remember exactly what Edmund had shown her. She closed her eyes, thinking back.
It had been on one of the ends, a piece of inlaid wood that could be pushed aside if one did it exactly right. It took her a few tries at each end before she pressed down at the right spot at the same time that she pushed to the side, and a small square of wood slid aside to reveal a tiny keyhole.
Eleanor looked at it consideringly. She had no idea where the key was. There had been nothing like that in either of the chests she had just searched. She pondered the fact that it could have been on Edmund’s person and been swept away in the ocean or burned up with his body. There was also the very real possibility that, small as it was, it had been left behind, unnoticed in some drawer or other, in their house in Naples.
She sighed and slid the concealing piece of wood back into place. It would take tearing the writing box apart to find what was in the compartment—assuming anything was—and she did not want to do that. It had been quite dear to Edmund.
Besides, there seemed little real chance that there was something valuable concealed inside it. What would Edmund have put there? And why would anyone want it? It would be foolish to destroy the box on the off-chance that there was something of value inside it. She would wait, she decided, and see what transpired. Perhaps she might even be able to find the key somewhere.
Still…She picked up the box and carried it downstairs to her office, where she locked it away inside one of her cabinets. There was no point in taking unnecessary risks, after all.
That task accomplished, she went up to bed, still puzzled.
ELEANOR SPENT the next morning with Zachary, catching up on business matters, since she had been absent for two days. She had lunch with the children and looked over their recent schoolwork afterwards. She knew that she needed to bring in a tutor for Nathan. He had already outstripped Kerani’s skills in most of his subjects, and Eleanor and Zachary had been taking up the slack. Before long, Claire would be past Kerani’s help, as well.
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