John tucked the sheet around his sleeping son, then stepped over the dog and tiptoed out of the room. He started across the hall to his own bedroom and heard the murmur of voices. A man and a woman were arguing. Or at least it sounded like an argument. In case the woman was in distress, he followed the sound around the corner to the other wing of rooms. As he neared, the voices became clear enough to identify.
Driscoll and Addie. They were in the schoolroom.
He stopped before he turned into the final hallway. He’d listen a minute to make sure things were all right, then head to his bed. If she needed him, he wanted to be there.
“Why would she leave so suddenly?” Addie asked, her voice raised.
“You should have told me before you read the letters,” Driscoll said.
“I have to know the truth.”
Frowning, John sidled nearer while staying hidden around the corner.
“And we’ll find out the truth,” Driscoll said. “But we have to work together, Addie.”
“I want to find out what happened,” she said. “Who I am.”
Driscoll cleared his throat. “You should have told me the minute you found the letters.”
“You’ve been gone, Mr. Driscoll. Did you discover anything?”
“Unfortunately no, child. Tuttle died six months ago.”
“He still might have been the one behind it.” Desperation tinged her words.
“The money would have stopped.”
“Unless he made arrangements for it to carry on in the event of his death. I want to tell Mr. Eaton now. And John.”
John’s gut clenched at the way her tone went soft when she said his name. At least keeping the secret from him hadn’t been easy for her. Whatever it was.
“We have to be careful, Adeline. Someone has already attacked you. You’re making yourself a target if we announce why you’re here.”
“I think it would be worth it. I’m tired of the charade.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper.
“I advise patience.”
“My whole life has been turned upside down since you appeared on our doorstep, Mr. Driscoll. It’s easy enough for you to advise patience when you’re not the one whose future hangs in the balance.”
“I’m sorry, Addie.” Driscoll’s voice grew gentle. “I know this has been hard for you. Get some sleep. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
“Very well. I can see you are not going to budge. Good night, Mr. Driscoll.”
“Good night, my dear.”
Driscoll’s footsteps neared, and John slipped into an empty guest room until the noise of his passage faded down the hall. Driscoll had brought Addie here for a reason, but the import of it escaped John. The rock in his gut grew heavier. The discussion John had overheard made one thing clear. Addie wasn’t the innocent he thought. Just as much pretense ran through her veins as through all the other women he’d known. He’d been sure she was different. He’d been ready to pursue her. He’d even stepped away from a good match because of her. Addie’s directness had been all a front. How very clever of her.
When he stepped back into the hall, he nearly ran down Addie. He caught her before she stumbled back against the wall.
“You startled me,” she said. Her bare feet peeked out from under her green dressing gown, and her hair was down.
A visceral emotion hit John in the gut. His fingers itched to plunge into that thick mane of auburn hair, to examine the red tints in the firelight. He imagined lifting that heavy curtain to place a kiss on the warm skin of her neck. Resisting the liquid warmth of her eyes, he released her arm and thrust his hands in his pockets.
Neither spoke for a long moment. A blush colored her cheeks, and he eyed it. Figuring out how to blush on command must have taken some training and practice. It gave her an innocent air that had completely fooled him.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, clutching the neck of her dressing gown.
Would she tell him the truth if he asked why she was really here? He could tell her he’d overheard her conversation with Driscoll.
“No, nothing,” he said abruptly. “You’re up late. Can I help you with something?”
Her dimple flashed. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d get some warm milk.”
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“I get so turned around in this big place.”
More lies? Probably an excuse to explain her presence.
He led her down the hall until it teed to the right, then to the end of the next hallway. “Careful, the stairs are steep.”
He went down the steps ahead of her. Even in the kitchen stairway, the Eatons had spared no expense. Flocked wallpaper covered the walls, and the stairs and handrail were redwood. John and Addie emerged in the large kitchen. The wooden counters were clean and ready to be used in the morning.
He took a glass down from the cupboard and went to the ice chest. “Would you care to have it warmed?”
She held out her hand for the glass of milk. “You don’t need to wait on me. I don’t want to keep you from your bed.”
He handed it over and watched as she poured hot water from the kettle on the woodstove into a bowl, then set the glass of milk in it to warm. “I’m a little hungry. Would you care for some jam and bread?”
Her smile came. “I admit I’m a bit peckish myself. Let me get it. Sit down.”
He sat at the kitchen table and watched her cut thick slices of bread and spread them with jam and butter. The intimacy of the moment swamped his resolve not to look at her hair.
He had to remember she had a secret agenda.
The warmth John had shown for days was replaced by a chill demeanor that tightened his lips and hooded his eyes. As Addie layered on the toppings, she cast her mind back over the day and couldn’t think of anything she might have done to offend him.
She placed the food on a plate and slid it in front of him. She slipped into the seat across from him and propped her chin in her hand. “I fear I was too honest about my feelings, Lieutenant. I’ve frightened you with my boldness, perhaps?”
“Candor is never misplaced, Miss Sullivan. Falsehood, on the other hand, is something I despise.”
“Falsehood? Surely you know me well enough by now to know I say what I think.”
“The problem is not what you say but what you don’t say.”
She studied his cold, dark eyes when he finally raised them. “You know,” she whispered. “I wanted to tell you right from the start, but Mr. Driscoll forbade me to say anything.”
“I heard you talking to him a few moments ago.”
She thought about that conversation. Nothing had been said about her identity. All he knew was that she had some purpose for being here, but she couldn’t endure his coldness. “You don’t know all of the story, but I want to tell you.”
“Will it be the truth?”
“Have I ever lied to you, Lieutenant?”
“Right now, I’m not really certain. I thought you were the clearest pool of honesty I’d ever peered into. I admit I’m most disappointed in you.”
She winced. “I’m exactly what you see. The only thing I haven’t revealed is my purpose in coming here.”
“I thought it was to teach Edward. Or is that a lie as well?”
“The moment I heard about Edward, I wanted to meet him,” she said. “He’s very important to me, and I loved him from the first.”
His eyes softened only a fraction at the mention his son’s name. “So what other purpose brought you here?”
“I want to discover my heritage.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. How could coming here help you learn that?”
“I was born here. To Laura Eaton.” She waited until the light began to dawn in his eyes. “I believe I’m Julia Eaton.”
“That’s impossible! She drowned years ago.”
She pulled her locket out from under her dressing gown and opened it. “Then explain this.”
He leaned over and peered at the picture in the locket. His fingers grazed hers when he cradled the necklace in his hand. She shivered with the overpowering urge to touch his hair. If he didn’t move, she wouldn’t be able to resist. When he finally leaned back, she was able to breathe again.
“It’s Vera,” he said. “Where did you get it?”
“I think I must have been around five when my father gave it to me. When Mr. Driscoll showed up, my mother admitted it was around my neck when my father found me on the shore. I was about two.”
“Julia’s age when the shipwreck occurred.”
“Yes.” She willed him to believe her. “My mother showed me a metal box full of clippings my father had collected about the shipwreck. And someone paid my parents for my upkeep all these years. They were instructed not to turn me over to the authorities but to tell everyone I was their natural child. They were able to do that because my father had just taken the post at Battery Point a few days before the shipwreck. My mother hadn’t joined him yet but arrived a few days later.”
The coldness began to fade from his face. “You’re really Julia Eaton?” He rubbed his forehead. “Does Henry know?”
She rubbed the warm metal of her locket. “Not yet. Mr. Driscoll is searching for more conclusive evidence.”
“What role does Walter play in this?”
“A friend of his took a picture of me at the lighthouse, and he happened to see it. Something about my appearance made him think of my mother, so he came to see for himself. When he saw the locket, he knew for sure.”
“It might have washed ashore and had nothing to do with you. And your resemblance isn’t overt.”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “That’s why he’s searching for more proof. If he can find out who paid for my upkeep, he’ll go to Mr. Eaton then.”
“Why would someone want to keep you from your family?”
“That’s what we want to know.”
He reached over and took her hand. “The attacks on you and Walter might be related to this.”
The press of his fingers comforted her. “That’s what Mr. Driscoll fears. He’s hired an investigator, but the records of the attorney who paid the stipend were burned, and so far the attorney is not revealing his client.”
“Henry will want proof, though the locket will have an impact. Still, it’s not conclusive.”
“Perhaps I should tell Mr. Eaton anyway. If we all work together, we may discover the truth.”
“I’m not so sure,” he said. “Someone had a powerful reason to keep you away from him. What if that’s who attacked you and Walter?”
“If the truth comes out, that person won’t have any reason for another attack.”
“Or it might force him into a more desperate move.”
“Or her,” she said before she could stop the words.
“Her?”
“Mr. Driscoll suspects Mrs. Eaton.”
“I can’t see Clara involved in this.”
“Jealousy? She was in love with Mr. Eaton before he dropped her for her my mother.”
“I have heard that story,” he said slowly. He pushed his half-eaten bread away. “We should retire, Miss Sullivan. This will take mulling over.”
She rose when he did. When he avoided her gaze, she laid her hand on his arm. “Are you angry with me?”
“Maybe. When we drove past the property, you knew then all the plans I had for it would come to nothing, didn’t you?”
She willed him to see the truth in her eyes. “You can keep the land. Money isn’t the reason I came. Please don’t hate me for it. I couldn’t bear it.”
His warm fingers lifted her chin, and he stared into her face. “I fear I could never stay angry with you for long.” He brushed the back of his hand along her cheek, then stepped to the stairs.