Читать книгу Tempted - Laurel Ames - Страница 11

Evan’s inspiration to include Angel on this next shopping expedition was a wise one, since she chivied Judith into more extravagant fixings for finery than would have occurred to Evan. He drove the gig home himself. Such intense discussions of hemlines and laces would have distracted even such a staunch mind as Judith’s from her driving.

They heard Lord Mountjoy shouting in the library from the courtyard and ceased their merry laughter. Evan shooed the girls upstairs with their packages and wondered whether he should intervene on Terry’s behalf. Having listened to many such lectures, Evan was not cowed, except to shrug in sympathy at the monologue that issued from the library. His father might have been speaking to him, for some of the lines were the same. And yet the words were all he remembered, his father’s disembodied voice nagging at him. He looked around the hall. Unless it had changed vastly, he did not remember it any more than he did the library or dining room, or even his bedroom. But he knew he could walk into the dower house and go through it blindfolded. What freakish tricks the mind played.

The library door burst open. “I thought I heard you come in.”

Evan jumped at his father’s intrusion.

“Get in here. I need you.”

Evan moved reluctantly into the room, but Terry was nowhere in evidence. There was instead, lounging in one of the chairs, a surly young lad of no more than fifteen years, who bore a resemblance to Angel in one of her pouts.

“I want you to take him in charge. You made it through school. If he has a prayer in the world, it is you.”

“Me? Take him in charge? But who is he?”

“Helen’s son, Ralph. He is incorrigible. Well?”

“Sorry to be struck stupid, but I did not know of his existence until this moment.”

“And I did not know of yours until today,” Ralph said resentfully.

“So we are even then?”

“Not by a long shot. I suppose I won’t even get the barrens now,” Ralph countered.

“The barrens?” Evan asked.

“Don’t you remember anything?” his father demanded. “The moorlands. Not good for much except pasturing sheep, but they would yield a living if properly managed.”

Ralph looked up, a spark of malice in his eyes. “Is that where Terry is to be exiled now?”

“That is none of your affair, you young cur.”

“Do you like farming?” Evan asked blankly.

“No, I should sell it and go back to London.”

“Back to London?”

“He was sent down from school a month ago, but he copped the letter out of the post and has been philandering in London.”

“Pretty exciting this time of year, all littered with the ton?” Evan asked.

“And expensive.”

“He ran out of money and into debt,” Lord Mountjoy said, as though Ralph could not hear him.

“How many subjects did you fail?” Evan asked casually.

“All of them,” Ralph said proudly.

“A great temptation, the life at Oxford or Cambridge, as I recall. Better than half my class got sent down, for one

reason or another, by the middle of each term. Their fathers got them back in, of course, for as long as it seemed worthwhile.”

“It’s a total waste,” Ralph said.

“Not to the fathers, who have got rid of a troublesome lad for months at a time.”

Evan had not been aware of his father leaving the room, but when he bothered to look around, he noticed his absence.

“Were you sent there to get rid of you?” Ralph asked.

“Oh, yes.”

“Toying with the maids, or was it the bottle?”

“I killed my elder brother.”

Ralph gasped. “You never!”

“Ask anyone. Tell me, of all these subjects you failed, does any of them have an appeal for you?”

“No.”

“You’re telling me you are interested in absolutely nothing?”

“I like poetry.”

“Poetry? That’s a tough one. Never could quite get it myself.”

“I only like it because it’s quick to read.”

“Quick to read, long to understand. Suppose we make a deal. You teach me poetry and I’ll tell you what I know about geometry.”

“What use is that to me?”

“Can’t fire a gun, even a little one, without geometry.”

“I’m a fair shot.”

“But could you fire a twelve pounder and have the vaguest notion where the ball would fall, what elevation to use to hit your target?”

“With practice.”

“Not good enough. You can’t be all day finding the enemy’s range or you would be blown to bits while you are about it. Take it from me, geometry can be useful for a variety of things. Of course, we shall have to tackle algebra first. You will need to know how to solve a formula. Tell you what. You pick out a book of poetry for me to study and I will hunt up my textbooks. They must be at Gram’s house. We’ll start after lunch tomorrow.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“Well, I think if you understand poetry, the least you can do is help me out. It isn’t easy courting your sister when I am only an ignorant soldier.”

“You and Angel?”

“No, Judith, but keep that quiet if you would. I’m not entirely sure she will have me.”

“She’d be a fool not to.”

“What, a murderer? It’s only by the greatest exertion that I will ever prove myself worthy of her.”

Evan left young Ralph staring at his back. The boy was not much different than the regular run of recruits. One had only to find a common ground, appeal to that and establish a rapport. About lying to the boy and manipulating him, Evan had no qualms. One did what one had to in time of war.

But this was not war…or was it? Perhaps he had not exaggerated his fears of gaining Judith’s hand, if Lady Mountjoy had any say. What better way to win that good lady over than by helping her recalcitrant son?

Was there another reason? Perhaps he did see a bit of himself in Ralph. His own rebellion had not been as blatant and he’d had more cause…Of course, he did not know what Ralph’s upbringing had been like. Perhaps it had been worse than his own. He did know his father had a talent for mishandling striplings.

There was also Judith. Perhaps she was attached to this brooding nephew of hers. Any way he looked at it, helping Ralph had to be a winning proposition, but only if he succeeded. He went to get the key to search for his old textbooks in the attic of the dower house.

He was right about remembering the place. Except for the covers over Gram’s furniture, it looked the same, and it was heavy with memories of her. She had been like a mother to him. Why this was, he could not quite remember. He thought his own mother must have been rather sickly. He found his trunk of books in his bedroom. It was a room he remembered well. “Why didn’t I come back in time?” he asked the empty air, then went back to the main house.

“Well?”

Evan jumped, despite his prone position on the bed. That one word shouted at a man comfortably ensconced in the Times made him cringe. “Am I the only one you shout at?”

“You don’t attend me half the time,” his father said from the doorway. “How else am I to get your attention? Are you going to take the boy in charge?”

“On one condition.”

“What is that?”

“That you do not interfere or question what I am doing.”

“Interfere?”

“I had a commander who always trusted me. I might not do things the way he expected, but I always got results. That was enough for him. I should think you could trust me that far.”

“I have no choice. Nothing I say makes the slightest impression on Ralph.”

“Well, as long as he regards you as our common nemesis, I may be able to gain his confidence. So have a care you shout at us both in equal measure. I would not want him to think I am conspiring with the enemy.”

“Nemesis indeed! Do you think I don’t have the boy’s best interests at heart?”

“No, I believe you do.” Evan’s eyes had strayed back to the paper when a sudden thought struck him. “Only tell me truthfully, was I ever that callow?”

“You were worse, and sanctimonious into the bargain.”

Evan shuddered a little. “I am justly punished then. How could you stand me?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I was forgetting.”

“And don’t think you can steal the paper away to your room every day when others might wish to read it.”

“Sorry, Father.”

Lord Mountjoy harrumphed and left. On the way down the stairs he tried to count the number of times Evan or Terry had said that to him, not paying the slightest attention to what they had done, so that he had to issue the same command again the next day. He would never understand these young bloods—never.

Evan rode with Judith again in the morning, and she showed him her favorite paths. Some of these were not entirely suitable for riding, in that they had to duck limbs and brambles and even get off and walk in places. They fetched up in the garden of the dower house to cool the horses. “Father says I can take up living here,” Evan remarked, glancing up at the dusty windows.

“Oh, I am glad. I do not like to see it shut up like this.”

“I was thinking of that, too. It’s a big house. It will take some work to set it to rights.”

“Let me help. I would love to do it.”

“It strikes me you already do enough for others, perhaps more than you should.”

“I owe them something, Helen and Lord Mountjoy. They needn’t have brought me here.”

“But to be ordered about by your sister when you might very well be managing a house of your own…”

“I am content. I do not know what would have become of us if not for Lord Mountjoy.”

“How did they meet, anyway?”

“Sister advertised herself as a housekeeper, but she insisted Angel and I would have to come with her.”

“Surely she did not offer you as servants?”

“No, and I believe that is what intrigued Lord Mountjoy. Her very helplessness in the face of financial disaster had a certain appeal to him.”

“How can you speak about it so objectively? It was your future, too, your disaster.”

“I had an offer of marriage.” Judith blushed and studied her gloved hands. “At least I thought it was an offer of marriage.” She was feeling more courageous today, perhaps because of the horse.

“A good offer?”

“Don’t look at me so. You have no idea what it is like. I did it to help my family, and when he…when it didn’t work out, it seemed wiser to cling together if Lord Mountjoy would allow it.” She finished with a blush, embarrassed once again that she had not confided in him.

Evan had a notion there was more to the story than this, but only the present concerned him now. “Well, he always was a managing fellow.”

“I feel almost sorry for him, having all of us thrust upon him. Especially me, which was uncalled for, and Ralph. What was the row about yesterday?”

“Ah, I am to whip Ralph into shape for school. He, in turn, will teach me poetry.”

“What?” she asked, halting Molly and turning to stare at him suspiciously.

“You were probably unaware I have such aspirations.”

She laughed in his face. “You have not, and you know it.”

“Ah, but Ralph does not know it, so take no notice if we wander about discussing odd bits of verse. Who knows but what I may gain a little polish, after all—at least do not laugh in this disarming way. It is infectious.”

He put his free arm around her back and silenced her with a kiss. She countered with a blow that fairly made Evan’s head ring. It also startled Taurus into a rear, which nearly dragged Evan off his feet.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, one hand thrown up over her mouth, the other still clutching Molly’s reins.

“So am I,” Evan said, giving his head a shake and calming his horse.

“I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you caught me off guard.”

“I should hate to think what you are capable of when prepared for a kiss,” he said, feeling his cheek.

“You must not! You must never do that again.”

“And you must think me a beast. But war has a way of giving one a certain impatience with life.”

“Things done impatiently are usually done unwisely,” she said almost to herself.

“That has the ring of your sister about it.”

“I’m sure she has had reason to say it often enough.”

“I must agree with it, even knowing it comes from her. Can you forgive me?”

“If you promise never to do that again.”

“I promise I will never force myself on you again. But you do see what I mean about needing polish?” he asked with a grin.

“Why are you helping Ralph?” she demanded. “And do not continue with this nonsensical story about wanting to learn poetry.”

“Perhaps I am doing it to get in your sister’s good graces.”

“Even if that would work, why would you care what she thinks of you?”

“I should like her to be more at ease, for the babe’s sake if for no other reason.”

“What would you care about her baby, another half brother?” she taunted callously.

“The way you say that, so coldly…it gives me a chill. Do you imagine I went about putting infants to the sword? When you have been engaged in such a ghastly business as war, any baby, no matter whose, is a ray of hope, a promise that something will continue.”

She stopped ahead of him, saying nothing. He dropped the reins and walked around in front of her to discover tears on her cheeks. “What is it? I know, my rude talk. I am hopeless.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said, thinking how sweet it would be to have a baby and be allowed to keep it. “I have tried to imagine what it was like for you.” Her voice was rich with the wetness of the tears. “I would rather have been there…”

“In Spain?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“But it is fairly pleasant here.”

“I am talking foolishly. Please don’t regard it.” She brushed the tears away with her gloved hands. “Are the horses cool?”

“Yes.”

Judith let Evan lead the horses to the stable and retreated to her room to change. She had missed another chance to tell him, but it wasn’t the sort of thing one blurted out to a near stranger. The quandary was that the more she knew him, the better she liked him and the more difficult it was to tell him she had been ruined. Except for the rides she must not be alone with Evan again; it was as simple as that. If they became no closer, there would never be a need to reveal her guilty secret.

As promised, directly after lunch, Evan and Ralph tackled algebra for two hours. They were consigned to the breakfast parlor for this exercise, since Helen and Angel went to sew in the morning room, and Judith and Lord Mountjoy conducted business in the library during this part of the day. The post had been fetched by then, and there were always letters to be answered, after which Lord Mountjoy would retire to peruse the Times and perhaps catch a nap. Evan was well aware of the schedule and, intentionally or not, was always plotting how he could get to the newspaper before his father. No chance of it today. The post, which was deposited on the hall table, had been taken up by Judith on their return, and she had gone directly to the library to sort it in preparation for the afternoon work. Evan had not as yet discovered where she secreted the paper, but he would.

By dint of presenting each lesson as a useful means of solving a practical problem, Evan managed to hold Ralph’s interest. But nothing could alleviate for Evan the dullness of Chaucer. He had not thought Ralph would take him seriously enough to present British poetry from a historical perspective.

Within a day Ralph proved to be a welcome addition to the household in several ways. Not only did he now share the bite of Lord Mountjoy’s tongue, he brought a wealth of gossip from London to enthrall Angel and delight Judith in spite of her pursed lips. He also made a fourth for whist, which was the only game Lord Mountjoy countenanced of an evening. That is not to say the play was peaceful. Terry was hounded for his dullness, though Evan guessed this was from a surfeit of drink. Evan himself was constantly chastised for not attending, and Ralph for being cocky when he won.

Evan sensed there was trouble brewing with Terry but could not conceive how to stop it. It came to a head the next morning when Evan caught his brother returning from a night’s carousing, mounted on Evan’s Andalusian colt.

“He’s come to no harm,” Terry claimed.

“He might well have. You had no right to take him without asking. Surely you knew I meant to ride him myself this morning.”

“Why ask you, then? You would have refused. You never gave me anything. Now you have taken everything.” Terry’s broad gesture swept full circle to indicate Meremont.

“I never meant you any harm. I scarcely know you.”

“Is that my fault, cooped up here with Father while you were off in Spain, covering yourself with glory?”

“It was mud.”

“What?”

“Mud was the only thing I was ever covered with in Spain!” Evan shouted.

“You…” Terry lunged, but failed to connect with a blow, flailing away, rather, as his brother tried to hold him up. Finally Evan pushed him, and Terry, enraged at falling in the muck, grabbed a pitchfork and ran full tilt at him. Evan sidestepped and tripped him up.

“Give me that before you hurt someone,” he commanded as he wrested the pitchfork away from him.

By this time one of the stable boys had run to the house for help.

“I hate you!” Terry shouted. “You were supposed to be dead. You were supposed to die in Spain. Why did you come back? You ruined everything.”

Evan got him in a headlock, but Terry struggled desperately against his grip with the violence of the berserk as his air was slowly cut off. “Do you mean to kill me, too?” he gasped.

Evan let go his hold and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to kill Gregory. I felt very much toward him as you feel toward me now. He had everything, even Father’s love. And I had nothing. I did not mean to ruin everything for you.”

Terry’s resentful look was mixed with puzzlement and defeat. “It doesn’t matter. Father is probably right. I would only waste it all anyway.” He stared at a steaming pile of muck.

“What the devil is going on here?” demanded Lord Mountjoy as he burst through the doorway and pulled up short at sight of his filthy sons.

“Nothing, Father,” Evan said in that automatic singsong of his.

“Nothing! But what—? You don’t intend to tell me, do you?” He looked pointedly from one son to the other. “I thought not. Everything has to be a conspiracy against me. Well, I should be used to it by now. I don’t know why I worry…” Lord Mountjoy stomped out of the stable and toward the house, talking to himself.

Evan chuckled first. “Does he often do that?”

Terry snickered. “More and more of late.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Evan went to him and put his arm about his shoulder, causing Terry to wince a little. “I hurt you, didn’t I? I’m sorry. Just tell me when you want to borrow the colt. You’re more important to me than him.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I do. You’re my brother.”

“No, I meant the part about borrowing your horse.”

“Yes, I mean it. Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed. You will look rank at breakfast if you don’t get an hour or two of sleep.”

“I am a mess.”

“You should have seen me at your age.”

Judith encountered the unlikely pair on the stairs and gave them a wide berth. “I shall be a bit late,” Evan warned.

“Take your time,” she said with amusement, wrinkling her nose at the stench they were carrying in with them.

“A madhouse!” Lord Mountjoy shouted, coming out of the library. “I live in a madhouse! Oh, Judith, where is yesterday’s paper? I’ve searched the entire library.”

“I put it under the blotter on your desk so no one else could get at it.”

“Bless you, my dear. You’re the only one, the only one who cares about me at all.” The force of this was somewhat lost on Judith, since it was bellowed up the stairway for the benefit of his sons.

“What the devil is all the racket?” Ralph complained, coming out of his room with his robe askew.

“Racket, is it? Back to bed with you, you ungrateful whelp,” Lord Mountjoy shouted.

Ralph’s face disappeared, and Angel only peeked over the banister before disappearing again. Judith thought perhaps she should go check on Helen, but sat on the stairs instead, listening to both the ranting of Lord Mountjoy in the library and the rumblings from Terry’s room. Evan finally tramped down the stairs and lifted her to her feet.

“What’s the matter, Judith?”

“Our lives were sadly dull before you came to Meremont.”

“God grant we may enjoy some dullness when I am safely ensconced in Gram’s house.”

Lady Mountjoy, far from being asleep upstairs, whirled out of the breakfast parlor. “You! I thought I told you no more riding alone with this—this soldier. It is highly improper for you to go unescorted in his company.”

“But—”

“She is right, Judith,” Evan agreed.

“What?” demanded Judith and Helen in unison.

“I have been giving it some thought, and as we are not related by blood, I think we do need a chaperon to protect your reputation, especially since I am a soldier. So nip upstairs and get Angel into her riding habit. Run along. Taurus will be rested enough to ride by then.”

“But—but will she come?” Judith asked uncertainly as she groped her way up the stairs, not at all sure of Evan’s sincerity in wanting Angel to join them.

“She has been wanting to learn to ride. Of course she will come.”

“You think you have got around me with this trick, but I won’t countenance your attentions to either of my sisters,” Helen said.

“Even a soldier could hardly seduce both of them at once.”

“Watch your mouth, young man, or I will do as I said.”

Lady Mountjoy exited just as her husband came into the hall. “What is going on out here? I cannot even read in peace.”

“Nothing, Father,” Evan said innocently.

“Nothing, is it again? If I hear that from you one more time I’ll strangle you with your own stock. What are you doing standing in the hall?”

“Just waiting to take the girls riding.”

“The girls? Both of them?”

“That’s right.”

“I won’t have that Angel on one of my horses, do you hear me?” Lord Mountjoy pointed an accusing finger.

“She may ride my gelding.”

“We haven’t had a moment’s peace since you returned. It’s a madhouse, a madhouse!” He slammed the library door after himself.

Bose peeked around the door frame.

“The coast is clear for the moment,” Evan said with a vague smile.

“Have you any idea what that sounds like from below?”

“No, are we vastly entertaining?”

“Don’t give me that innocent look. What have you been up to?”

“Other than a brawl with my brother and a shouting match with Father and Helen, nothing. Make us something fortifying for breakfast, will you? I shall need it after Angel’s riding lesson.”

Bose went grumbling down the back stairs to the kitchen, Judith reappeared with an excited Angel and Evan stared only momentarily at the concoction on the child’s head.

True to form, Angel lost her hat at the slightest hint of a canter and clutched the saddle so desperately she made no pretense of reining her horse. That was a mercy, since she could not then jab the animal in the mouth. He and Judith had a tolerable time laughing at Angel.

Breakfast was strangely quiet after the commotion of the morning, each of them avoiding the prospect of another argument. Lord Mountjoy stared hard from one to the other of his strange family, almost daring them to break the peace. He did not do so himself except to adjure Ralph to mend his dress with some shirt points he could see over. To this end the algebra lesson was cut short and the poetry skipped altogether in favor of Ralph going shopping.

Evan found Judith in the garden beside the house, fitting Thomas with a new jacket. Thomas was talking quite volubly to her about his puppy, which he was leading by a piece of rope thick enough to tether a bull. Evan laughed at this arrangement and wrestled with the pup with one hand, as Thomas looked on proudly.

“Aunt Judith, are you sure you have taken all the pins out this time?” Thomas asked cautiously in his high, light voice.

“I thought I had. Why? Is one sticking you?”

“No, I just hoped you had made sure.”

“It’s a wonder you trust me at all, Thomas, as many times as you have been stuck,” she said, and smoothed the fabric along his arm with a loving touch.

“It doesn’t hurt. It’s only a bit of a surprise.”

“Like falling off a horse, then?” Evan asked. “You usually don’t get hurt, you’re just taken aback to be suddenly on the ground.”

“I have seen your horses,” Thomas said, round eyed. “They are tall but not as fat as Father’s.”

“They will be if they keep eating their heads off in his stable.”

“I shall have a pony next year, but I would rather have a horse.”

“A pony is more of a challenge,” Judith said bracingly. “I have more trouble getting Betty to do what I want than I have with a horse.”

“She’s right,” confirmed Evan. “Ponies are much smarter than horses. If you can manage a pony and get it to like taking you about, you will be able to ride anything in future.”

“Truly?” Thomas questioned, then flinched as he caught sight of his nurse approaching from the house. Judith saw her, too, and there came into her face such a look of resentment that Evan was shocked. Judith quickly removed the garment and helped Thomas back into his old coat, buttoning it up as she would if she were sending him someplace cold. She hugged him for a moment, as though she were not going to see him again for a long time. “All finished, Miranda,” she said in that tearful voice Evan was coming to know.

“You spoil him more than his mama,” Miranda said, taking the boy’s hand possessively and giving Judith an admonishing look. Evan supposed this frown was for letting him talk to the boy. The pup trailed after them, valiantly trying to hold his head up on the end of his heavy tether.

Judith’s face was a swirl of emotion—regret, longing, jealousy. “You could have a little boy like that,” Evan said.

She flashed him a look of horror.

“I mean when you are married and have a home of your own.”

“No!” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I can never have a son like Thomas.”

He would have pressed her, but he was afraid to make her cry. What did she mean? That she thought herself to be barren? If a doctor had told her this for certain perhaps that’s why she spurned his advances.

“Why does Miranda always drag him away when I am about? Does she think I will eat him?”

“I don’t know,” Judith said, carefully folding the coat as though the warmth of the child were still in it.

“I expect the other servants have filled her head with stories about me killing Gregory.”

“But you did not. Overturning the curricle was an accident.”

“Why then?”

“It must be because Thomas was so sickly when he was little.” The way Judith forced the explanation out, Evan knew she was lying to him. “If not for Miranda, we might have lost him. He is almost as much her baby as ours.” Evan nodded vaguely as she gathered up her sewing rather distractedly and fled toward the house.

Evan was nonplussed. Judith seemed such a sturdy, good-humored soul most of the time. It was only the mention of anything relating to marriage or children that disturbed her. It wasn’t going to be easy courting her then. He would have to go slower. Perhaps he could learn to pace himself to civilian life. He would certainly try for Judith’s sake. To this end he decided to go fishing.

Judith lay facedown in her pillow. It had been a long time since she had cried like that. It had a cleansing effect. The world was no brighter when she finished, but she felt emptier, which was somehow better than feeling as though she was going to burst.

“What is it, Judith?” Helen asked. “Is Evan bothering you again?”

“No,” she said, sitting up on the bed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s because I didn’t knock. I saw you run from him. I knew I would find you crying. He’s bringing it all back, isn’t he?”

“It isn’t Evan. It’s—it’s everything. Do we still need Nurse Miranda? Thomas is nearly six now.”

“We will need her when the baby comes. She may as well stay.”

“But she scarcely ever lets Thomas play.”

“She plays with him. I have seen her. She loves him very much.”

“I just think, as badly as we need money, we could do without her. I could take care of Thomas.”

“Now we all agreed that was not wise, didn’t we?”

“That was a mistake. I should never have given him up. Never!”

“But what were we to do?” Helen asked. “I was the one who was getting married. Are you jealous of me?”

“No, I’m not jealous. I just want my son back.”

“But you have him. We all live in the same house.”

“I don’t have him. He is your son now, but you don’t love him—not like I do.”

“Of course I love him. You tell me this is not Evan doing this to you, but I don’t believe you. You never regretted your decision before. It was the only way.”

“I know. It’s not fair.”

“Life is not fair. If the world made any sense, men would ride sidesaddle and women would run the government.”

Judith gave a reluctant laugh.

“When my baby comes,” Helen said, patting her stomach, “Nurse will be so busy with it, you will have Thomas all to yourself. Mark my words.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are right. You almost always are.”

Evan borrowed the gear he needed from Terry and worked his way down the stream from where it ran past the stable to near the bridge. It was a shallow stretch of water now, but from the breadth of its bed and the height of the banks, in flood time, he guessed, it could not be forded. It had quite a few inviting pools that he did not so much remember as instinctively find. He knew he used to fish here, for his grandmother had told him so, but there was nothing familiar about it.

He pondered this as he tried one pool after another. He supposed a stream would change a good deal in ten years, but why had everything else changed so much? Indeed, some of his memories were truly faulty. Perhaps it was him. Perhaps he had remembered wrong or the memories had become distorted with time. He also remembered things that were not there, trees and pieces of furniture. He supposed he could have invented these, but why would he, since he tried never to think of home? He had, he realized, spent a lot of effort wiping out all thoughts of the place.

He had only just baited his hook atop a big rock by one of these pools when a shot whistled past his head. He rolled off the rock backward, landing in the shallows and staring through his wet hair at a figure in white. Much as he wanted to right himself, his every instinct was to lie still on his back and hold his breath. After regarding him for a moment, the woman moved off into the woods, a dark object showing up against the white of her dress—a pistol.

Evan breathed and rolled over, watching as a drop of blood splashed onto the wet stones and washed away. He felt his head and located the cut near his hairline. He was about to bind that up when he discovered, to his dismay, that the fishhook had gotten lodged in the skin between his thumb and forefinger. He really felt like weeping, but instead he laughed. It was the sort of thing that had got him his half-mad reputation in Spain. He could laugh in the face of the worst disaster because he could not do anything else.

He collected his gear and stumbled toward the house. Ralph gave him a start when he appeared out of the small woods in his shirtsleeves. He waved a dark object at Evan, who almost crouched to duck until he realized it was only a book. He waved back, paused and racked his brain to try to remember if the figure in white could have been a man with his shirttail hanging out because of the heat. No, he could not be sure. With the blood and water in his eyes he could not even say for sure if the figure had been wearing white. It might as easily have been cream, buff or light gray.

“What happened to you?” Judith asked, making him flinch again and driving his heart against his ribs. “You’re soaked, and why do you look at me so oddly?”

Evan had by now ascertained that the dark object Judith held by her faded muslin dress was also a book and not a pistol. Why had such a thought even come into his head, and did everyone have to be walking about with books like this? His nerves had not been so badly knocked about when he had been in Spain.

“Fishing,” he gasped with relief.

“It looks like the fish won. You’ve got a hook in your palm.”

“I know.”

She took his hand and turned it over to examine the position of the hook. “It would probably be less painful to push it the rest of the way through and nip it apart rather than trying to extract it.”

“Can you do it?” he asked, fascinated by having her handle him rather than the other way round.

“I do have a brother. I can manage it if you don’t wince too much. Come to the stable. There are sure to be some cutters there.”

“What did happen to you?” she asked, to distract him as she deftly twisted the hook and exposed the barb on the other side of his hand. He did not flinch at all, just watched dispassionately.

“I fell off that big rock at the end of the path.”

“Hence the cut on your head. But why?”

“If you must know, someone took a shot at me,” he said with a reckless smile.

She looked suitably horrified. “I thought I heard shooting.” She bound up his hand, which was not bleeding at all, with her worn, lace handkerchief. It was a quite unnecessary operation, but Evan would never have said so. He did not mean to return the handkerchief, either.

“What are you two doing, or shouldn’t I ask?” Terry propped his shotgun against the wall.

“Someone fired at Evan near the stream,” Judith told him.

To Evan’s surprise, it was Terry who glanced at the shotgun, not Judith.

“It was a pistol shot,” Evan supplied. “I saw who did it, but only at a distance.”

“I heard the shot and went to investigate, but I didn’t see anyone by the time 1 got there. What did the person look like?”

“I was upside down in the creek with blood and water in my eyes. I have only the vaguest impression of someone in white.”

“And yet you made out that the shot came from a pistol?” Judith questioned.

“I could tell that from the sound as it whizzed by.”

“They don’t sound anything alike, Judith,” Terry advised. “Someone in white?”

“Is that significant?”

“No, why should it be?” Terry asked with a laugh.

Evan did not like the way Terry and Judith glanced at each other. They knew who it was and they were not going to tell him. He had never felt like one of the family, but had never felt such an outsider as at that moment.

Evan had been under fire for years, sometimes for days at a time, yet none of it had unnerved him as much as that one bullet, perhaps because it had been fired by a woman. And neither Judith nor Terry had said “he,” though the natural assumption would be that it was a man.

It had to be Lady Mountjoy. She must be unhinged to think she could get rid of him this way. He had already decided that she was unsettled by her pregnancy. And she had given him fair warning. He would just have to be careful…but for the rest of his life? He thought of carrying the tale to his father for only a moment before discarding that idea. How could he tell such a man that his wife was mad or close to it? He certainly could not tell Judith he suspected her sister, even if she suspected her as well.

By the time Evan delivered his battered body into the hands of the stunned Bose, he was in the mood to pick up and leave, and said as much.

“I knew it! I knew it couldn’t last! You’ve argued with him again, haven’t you?”

“No, as it happens. But someone shot at me near the stream. I might as well stay in the army, if—”

“Are you serious? They shot at you on purpose?”

“Yes. It wasn’t you, was it?” Evan asked playfully.

“Don’t tempt me. Did you get a look at him?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know it was on purpose?”

“You’re right. It was probably an accident,” he said to appease Bose. Being sniped at was such an ordinary thing to an engineer that, after the initial surprise, he was inclined to shrug it off, anyway.