Over two hours later, Emily found herself riding alongside Peter as they made their way toward Lord and Lady Fulberry’s home on the outskirts of Little Haverton.
Reaching up with one hand, she brushed a stray curl back off her forehead, her bonnet having long ago tumbled off to hang down her back by its strings, and contemplated her companion from the corner of her eye.
He was such an enigma to her, she mused. Long ago she’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t possibly have been the sort of man her young heart had once believed him to be. That he couldn’t honestly have cared for her and her family or anyone at Willow Park or he would never have left Oxfordshire—and her—the way that he had, without a word of explanation.
But observing him today, she’d been forced to concede that she just might have been mistaken in her assumptions. At least as far as the Willow Park residents were concerned. Talking and laughing with them at the lunch table, regaling them with tales of his life as a Bow Street runner, he’d seemed so happy, so content. To her consternation, he’d fit in as if he’d never left. And it was obvious the boys and girls adored him. To them, he was their hero. Just as he had once been hers.
Never before could Emily remember feeling so confused.
For the rest of their visit to the Park, she’d found herself unable to keep her eyes from this man who had caused such an upheaval in her life, both four years ago and in the last few days since his return. It was as if some strange magnetic pull beyond her control drew her gaze to him.
And more than one person had noticed her preoccupation with him. She’d seen Mrs. McLean send her several knowing looks, and Jenna had even pulled her aside before she and Peter had departed to comment on it.
“You keep staring at ’im like a cat at the cream,” her friend had pointed out with a sly grin as they’d watched him saying good-bye to everyone.
“What utter nonsense,” Emily had sniffed, deliberately turning her back on the sight of Peter as he’d shaken hands with Rachel McLean’s big, redheaded husband, Angus. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t. But you know, it might not be so terrible if you was to give ’im another chance.”
“Another chance to what? Break my heart? Leave me behind again without a second thought? I don’t think so.”
Jenna’s face had turned solemn. “Em, Peter’s a good man. If nothing else, seeing ’im with the children today should ’ave proven that. Everyone seems to love ’im. Even your brother and ’is wife like ’im. Shouldn’t that tell you something?”
It didn’t matter that her friend had only been repeating what she herself had been thinking. She wasn’t quite ready to accept that her judgment of him could have been so far off the mark. “I don’t know, Jenna. I don’t know what to think.”
“I ’ate to say it, but maybe you ought to just come right out and ask ’im why ’e left.” The younger girl had laid a sympathetic hand on Emily’s arm. “Until you do, it will always be there between you. And you never know. ’E might ’ave ’ad a very good reason for what ’e did. Doesn’t ’e at least deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
Jenna’s words echoed in her head now, and Emily scowled, her hands tightening on her reins. There had been more than ample opportunity over the years for Peter to explain his actions to her, but he had never gone out of his way to do so. Obviously it hadn’t been that important to him or he wouldn’t have spent his past visits to Oxfordshire avoiding her.
But you never sought him out, either, Emily, a little voice in the back of her mind hissed. You never bothered to ask him for his side of the story.
But did she really want to know the answer? Did she really want to find out that the reason behind his hasty departure from Little Haverton had nothing to do with a lack of caring on his part, and everything to do with her?
At one time, Peter had given her every reason to believe they would be spending the rest of their lives together. But somewhere along the way, things had come undone. Perhaps he had changed his mind and decided he didn’t want her after all. But if that had been the case, why hadn’t he come to her and told her the truth?
She didn’t know. The only thing she was certain of was that it was getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings he was still capable of stirring in her. And after that kiss last night…
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Peter’s warm, husky voice jolted Emily out of her reverie, and she gave a startled jump before taking a deep breath to steady her suddenly fluttering pulse. Certain her face must be an alarming shade of red, she turned to look at him, praying that he would think the sun was responsible for the color in her cheeks.
“I was just wondering about your conversation with Benji,” she said, attempting to keep her voice calm and even. It wasn’t a complete lie. She had been worrying about what had transpired between the two of them at the pond after she had left them. Peter hadn’t mentioned it and the boy had never reappeared. “He never did join us for lunch.”
“No. He made it clear he wasn’t interested in doing so.”
Glad to have something else to turn her mind to, she sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t understand it. Benji has always been so cheerful, so willing to spend time with the other children, especially the younger ones. Now, all of a sudden he can’t stay far enough away from them.” She bit her lip. “You don’t suppose it has something to do with the robberies, do you?”
“I don’t know. It could. I’m assuming Constable Jenkins has questioned him?”
“Once, along with a couple of the other older boys. But the odious man spent the whole time trying to intimidate one of them into confessing, so Tristan wouldn’t allow it again.” She would never forgive herself if what she was doing had led to Benji’s present moroseness. She could well see how being suspected of a crime he’d had nothing to do with could make the boy resentful. Especially when he’d struggled so hard to better himself.
Peter frowned. “Sooner or later, I may have to question them again, if only to make sure I’ve covered all the same ground the constable has. But I don’t believe for a minute that Benji had anything to do with it. Or any of the other children, for that matter. This thief is more than likely an adult. Someone who knows his marks personally and knows them well.”
Emily felt herself go cold at his words. “What makes you say that?”
“For one, he seems to be well aware of the routines of his victims. He knew what night Lord and Lady Tuttleston would be away from home and used that to his advantage. And from what Constable Jenkins has told me, Lord and Lady Fulberry always throw a rather large dinner party the week before they are scheduled to depart for London every Season. I think the thief deliberately chose that night to break in knowing that they, as well as their servants, would be occupied seeing to their guests.”
He was getting much too close, Emily thought with a flare of panic. Uncomfortably close. “But couldn’t anyone determine that just by asking a few subtle questions here and there, or by observing the victims for a while? I mean, isn’t it possible the culprit could be someone unknown to the victims?”
One of Peter’s tawny eyebrows shot upward and he studied her with interest as he replied. “Perhaps. But there is also the fact that the thief appears to know exactly where each of the victims kept their valuables and went straight to their location, something that wouldn’t be common knowledge. In the case of the Tuttlestons, he had something specific in mind. Lady Tuttleston’s necklace. And whoever it was knew she kept it in her jewelry box, not her husband’s safe.”
“A servant might have that kind of information,” Emily insisted, determined to offer up at least a measure of doubt as to his theory.
“True. And I haven’t ruled them out. But all of Lord and Lady Tuttleston’s servants have alibis for the time of the break-in. Of course, that doesn’t eliminate the possibility that they could be working with someone on the outside, someone they passed their information on to. And if I can compare that scrap of cloth I found to some of their clothing, I might luck out and find a match. Although I doubt the thief will wear the same clothing during the day as he does during his break-ins.”
“We still don’t even know whether that scrap has anything to do with the thief,” Emily argued. “It could have been blown there from somewhere else entirely.”
“But it seems unlikely. It was stuck rather firmly to the branch, which I doubt could have happened if it had just been blown there by a passing breeze. I am well aware, however, that I can’t rely solely on that to identify the culprit. You’re right. Its presence in the tree can be too easily explained away by other means. But it is a place to start.”
Peter’s visage was filled with such grim purpose that Emily couldn’t suppress a small shiver. “You seem so determined. Do you truly think you will be able to catch him?”
“Oh, I can assure you, I am determined. And there is no doubt in my mind that I will catch him.” She watched him as his eyes narrowed and he gazed off into the distance. “Because of this criminal, my family has been threatened. The only family I have ever known. Not only have the children of Willow Park been badgered and accused of his crimes, but your brother and his wife have been forced to worry about the future of the home at a time when they should be concerning themselves with nothing but the arrival of their babe.”
He paused, then looked back at her, his countenance rife with utter resolve. “I will not stand by and allow it to continue. I will track this miscreant down, and when I do he will be made to pay for the pain he has caused. I give you my word on that.”
His voice was filled with such anger and assurance that Emily had to look away. She would not—could not—allow herself to be swayed by guilt. She had to remember her family was at stake. But if she’d had any uncertainty over how Peter would react if he ever discovered her unholy alliance with Jack, she didn’t now.
He would hate her.
“Well,” she said as Lord and Lady Fulberry’s home came into view just up ahead, “here we are at our destination.” The towers of Fulberry Manor were a welcome sight, and needing to put some distance between herself and Peter, she urged Artemis ahead with a small nudge of her heel, calling back to him over her shoulder. “We’d better hurry. It’s getting late.”
She caught a brief glimpse of his puzzled expression, but she brushed it aside as she trotted ahead of him up the drive. Better that she leave him wondering at her strange behavior than stay in his company and give herself away.
Deep down, she had known that his return to Knighthaven would cause her nothing but further heartache and pain. But never could she have guessed when she had run into him that morning in the woods that the man she had once loved might wind up holding her very future in his hands.