River Of Fire (48 page)

His mouth curved without humor. "Pretending nothing happened will be impossible, but the rest is true. I'd like to see this investigation through to the end."

"For the sake of justice and your mortgages?" she said with heavy irony.

"Exactly." He hesitated. "And perhaps to help you and your father learn what happened. I owe you that. As soon as I came here, I realized that something was wrong. Your mother's death in ambiguous circumstances injured all who were close to her. The truth, no matter how painful, might come as a relief."

He sounded so blasted reasonable. So kind. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Part of her didn't want to see him go, but another, larger part was terrified at the thought of living under the same roof with the shadow of his treachery between them. It would be better if he left.

Yet if anyone could solve the mystery of her mother's death, it was Kenneth. Tonight he had demonstrated a kind of deductive skill that was alien to her. Surely she owed it to Helen's memory to let him finish his investigation.

As she weighed the choices, he said quietly, "I concealed my true reason for coming to this house, but that was my only deceit. Everything I told you about my past, everything that happened between us, was true.
Everything
."

She caught her breath as pain lanced through her. She wanted so much to believe him, but her emotions had been too badly mauled. Her gaze went to the carpet in front of the fireplace. A few hours earlier, she had known pure happiness. But he had sounded just as sincere and believable when he had talked with Bowden.

"You kept too many secrets, Captain," she said tightly. "You concealed your station in life, your artistic ability, your very reason for coming to this house. I've run out of trust."

The scar across his cheek whitened. "If you allow me to stay, I'll keep out of your way as much as possible."

"See that you do."

It was permission, and the signal for an armed truce. Kenneth nodded and silently left the studio.

When he was gone, she went to the sofa and curled up against the Persian silk carpet, wrapping her shawl around her like a cocoon. Too much had happened in this disastrous evening. Passion. Treachery. Assault. The possibility of murder. She was too drained even to go down to her bedroom.

Where did deceit end and truth begin?

Kenneth's talent was real. His military experience and sister were also real. His friends were real and loyal, and the quality of those friends reflected well on him.

But that didn't mean he wasn't a fortune hunter. It didn't mean that he had felt anything beyond lust when he bedded her. It didn't mean she could trust him.

Eyes starkly open, Rebecca watched the dying coals slowly crumble into ash.

Exhausted, Kenneth stripped off his clothing and went to bed as soon as he reached his room. The first edge of Rebecca's fury had been blunted, but the chasm between them was still catastrophically deep. Perhaps it could not be bridged.

She was such a contradiction. Her unconventional upbringing had given her a misleading air of sophistication. She had acted as if virginity were no more than a minor nuisance, and insisted that she had no interest in marriage.

Yet he suspected that at heart she was a romantic who yearned to believe in love and faithfulness. Otherwise she would not disapprove so much of her parents' infidelities. Nor would she have waited until the age of twenty-seven to trust a man with her body and at least a small part of her heart. She had been gradually opening up to him. He had hoped that by the time his financial affairs were sorted out, she would be willing to trust him with her hand as well. But tonight she had bolted back into her shell, possibly forever.

Ironically, the catastrophic evening had finally produced something significant to report to Lord Bowden. The missing heart band from the gimmal ring was a small thing, but it had crystallized vague suspicions into a firm belief that Helen Seaton had been murdered. He couldn't prove it yet. But now that he was convinced there had been foul play, his chances of finding her killer were greatly enhanced.

As Kenneth drifted into restless sleep, he pondered the irony of his situation. Without his secret mission to Seaton House, he never would have met Rebecca. Yet those same secrets might have doomed any chance of building a future with her.

Two days after the Strathmore ball, Rebecca received a note from Lady Bowden saying that her newfound aunt would be walking near the Serpentine in Hyde Park later that morning. She fingered the paper doubtfully. She had thought of Lady Bowden several times since their meeting. A day earlier, she would have welcomed this discreet invitation to further their acquaintance.

After hearing of Lord Bowden's desire to prove Sir Anthony a murderer, she was not so sure. It would be hard to keep that from Bowden's wife. Then again, perhaps this was a heaven-sent opportunity to learn more about her father's brother.

Pragmatism won, and two hours later Rebecca and her maid Betsy went to the park. Relatively few people were about at this unfashionable hour, so it took only a few minutes to locate her aunt's slight, elegant figure.

"Good day, Lady Bowden," Rebecca said as they approached each other. "It's good to see you again."

Her ladyship gave her maid a glance. The woman fell back out of earshot and walked with Betsy. Lady Bowden smiled. "I'm glad you could come on such short notice, Rebecca. We're leaving for the country tomorrow. Even though it is only a few miles from your father's summer home, I don't think it will be possible for us to meet there."

"Someone would surely notice," Rebecca agreed. She looked around her. "I'm glad to have an excuse to come out on such a fine day. I've been so busy I've scarcely noticed the weather."

The two women talked of inconsequential things as they strolled toward the narrow end of the lake, which was busy with splashing waterfowl. When they reached it. Lady Bowden opened her large reticule and brought out two chunks of bread.

After handing one to Rebecca, she broke a corner off her own bread and tossed it into the water. Ducks and geese darted forward from all directions, honking hopefully.

Rebecca smiled and threw out a piece of bread. "Why is it so soothing to feed waterfowl?"

"They're so much more direct than humans," her aunt replied. "By the way, my felicitations on your betrothal. I gather Lord Kimball is that splendid specimen who escorted you when we met?"

The Candover ball seemed a long time ago. "You mean the gentleman with whom I was caught misbehaving. To be honest, Aunt Margaret, the betrothal was a pretense to avoid scandal. We intended to break it quietly after a discreet interval."

Her aunt gave her a look of bright-eyed curiosity. "From the way you speak, you sound as if you're considering making it a real betrothal. After all, misbehaving with a man generally indicates a certain fondness for the fellow."

"The situation has changed. Perhaps I shouldn't say this, for I don't want to cause you pain. Still, in a way it concerns us both." Rebecca hurled a piece of bread as far as she could. A great mute swan swooped majestically into the water and stole the tidbit from a goose. "I recently learned that your husband hired Lord Kimball to enter our household as a secretary in order to seek evidence that my father killed my mother."

"Oh, my. I see why you were reluctant to speak." Lady Bowden's eyes widened with shock. "I presume you are concerned for your father and furious with your young man."

"He is
not
my young man. Especially not now."

"Men are imperfect creatures, aren't they? But they are the only opposite sex we have, so we must make the best of them." Her aunt sighed. "Strange how even after almost thirty years, my husband can't get Helen out of his mind."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Margaret," Rebecca said softly. "I know the knowledge must be hurtful."

"Only a bit. He does love me, you know, though I understand that better than he does himself." She tossed out several small pieces of bread, her face a little sad. "We've had a good marriage. Our two sons are a great joy to us both. But I think that because he loved Helen when he was young, she represents the lost dreams of his youth. He doesn't want to let them go."

"I can sympathize, but not if his regrets lead him to falsely accuse my father." Rebecca flipped a piece of bread over a fat Canada goose so that a small female mallard could snatch it. "Forgive me for asking, but… is there any chance that your husband's hatred would lead him to manufacture evidence to support his belief in my father's wickedness?"

"No chance at all. Marcus can be very fixed in his opinions, but he is rigorously honest." Her aunt gave her a slanting glance. "How did you learn of my husband's scheme?"

"I overheard him talking to Kenneth at the Strathmore ball."

Lady Bowden grimaced. "Perhaps I should have attended instead of crying off. Did you confront Lord Kimball?"

"Yes. If I'd had a weapon, I would have assaulted him."

"Did he brazen it out?"

"Not really. He said he regretted the duplicity." Her mouth hardened. "But that doesn't change the fact of his lies."

"Once he became embroiled in the situation, he could hardly come out and tell you the truth," Lady Bowden said reasonably. "He was truly caught on the horns of a dilemma."

"
A
dilemma of his own creation," Rebecca said bitterly.

A sudden flicker in the air over the lake was followed by a brief, tortured avian shriek as a pigeon exploded in a flurry of feather and bone. A falcon had knifed down and slaughtered its hapless prey, then carried it off. Rebecca caught her breath, shaken by the suddenness of the strike.

Lady Bowden's gaze followed the feathers drifting down to the water. "You're angry, and you have reason to be." She tossed out the last of her bread, then brushed the crumbs from her gloves. "But if you care for the young man, my dear, I suggest that you not rule out the possibility of forgiveness."

"Is it possible to restore trust once it is gone?" Rebecca asked painfully.

"Love can heal broken trust. Love can heal a great many things. If it weren't true, the human race would have died out long since." Lady Bowden took her niece's arm. "Shall we go have an ice? I've found that ices are very good for dark moods."

As Rebecca obediently went with her aunt, she wondered if she would ever have such tranquillity. Probably not. But she appreciated being around it.