Three

Kate felt as though she was floating. Then she became aware that strong arms were carrying her and that there was a babble of voices she wished fervently would go away because her head was aching so much.

“Fetch Mrs. Barrett,” a voice barked above her, and she opened her eyes to see familiar dark brown eyes frowning down at her.

“Why are you always frowning?” she muttered crossly.

A spark of humor mingled with relief in those dark eyes. Satisfied, she smiled and closed her own eyelids, only for them to fly open as she realized she was being carried in strong arms and surrounded by worried, protesting servants. Before she could object, she was placed gently down, and those strangely comforting arms were gone.

She tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in her head made her groan.

A firm hand pushed her back down. “Lie still, you little fool,” harsh tones admonished her.

“Katie! Oh, you poor dear, I knew you should have tried to get some rest instead of trying to deal with Father’s desk today.”

Beth’s anxious face peered down at her, and then with relief Kate closed her eyes as her stepsister took charge, ordering everyone from the room. Only when she heard Beth say fiercely, “And you, sir, if you have done anything to hurt my sister, you will regret it, I promise you!” did she remember.

“No! Mr. Stevens,” she called and winced. Her head was pounding, and she knew she was going to pay for all the sleepless nights and the stress of this last horrible day.

His face loomed over her again.

“Please, sir, I am sorry to be so stupid,” she managed earnestly, “but please do not leave. I will be well soon, and we must talk.”

For a moment he studied her face, and then some tension in him seemed to be released. “Be assured I am not going anywhere until we have indeed talked, Miss Farnley. This day has been too much for you, and I should have waited. I do sincerely apologize for adding to your suffering.”

Her hand went out and grasped the sleeve of his coat as he turned away. She glanced a little desperately at Beth’s anxious face and said rapidly, “And sir, you will please not mention that. . .that person to anyone else?”

He stared down at her as though trying to decide. Then he stared across at Beth, and his features hardened. He quickly looked away and stiffened as he saw something on the wall above Kate’s bed. He stared at it for a long moment, and her weary mind was eased as she remembered what was there.

Then his gaze dropped again to her. He looked bemused, a little puzzled, as he studied her. The sharp angles on his strong face softened as the hint of a smile touched his lips. For a moment longer his gaze swept over her now severely tousled hair and down to linger momentarily on her capable hand still touching him.

She snatched her fingers away as through they had been burnt. Heat started to mount up in her at the suddenly arrested look in his eyes. They stared at each other, each searching out the other, trying to find that hidden person, that hidden soul, she suddenly thought fancifully.

Still holding her gaze he slowly nodded. “Of course, I won’t say anything,” he said abruptly. His piercing eyes softened even further. “You rest now,” he said in a much gentler voice and then walked quickly from the room.

“Katie, what is going on? Who is that man?” Beth exclaimed. Then as Kate shut her eyes, she heard Beth add hurriedly, “No, no, do not answer, just rest. You are a dreadful color. When did you last eat properly? I noticed you had nothing at lunch.”

Before Kate could protest, Beth had sent her maid scurrying away to the kitchen for a tea tray.

“Beth, please do not let Mr. Stevens leave until I can speak to him,” Kate begged as soon as they were alone. “He may have some important information for us.”

“Yes, yes,” soothed Beth as she helped her sit up for a sip of water. “He seemed just as anxious to speak to you. Now, you just try and relax for awhile. What a year and more it has been for you. You were thoroughly exhausted after helping me nurse my dear mama all those weeks, and then coping with Father as well as arranging our wedding. Then being with me before and after William John was born, and now Father. . .”

Beth bit her lip and continued hurriedly. “It has been a dreadful time these past weeks. I do not know what I would have done without my dear William to support me, and you have had no one.”

To Kate’s immense relief, Beth abruptly stopped speaking and continued her silence while hovering over her until she had partaken of a hot cup of tea and forced a little food down. Then Beth insisted she get some rest.

Although her mind was whirling with a mixture of emotions and questions, Kate did at last slip into a deep sleep of utter exhaustion. When she awoke she knew by the pale light that filtered into the room despite the heavy window drapes that it was early morning.

She stared blindly at the window, going over in her mind all that had happened the previous day. The events of the funeral and dealing with the condolences of their guests afterward had seemed to pass in a blur. She had felt so exhausted just trying to control the myriad of emotions, the tears, the bewilderment, the anger.

A shudder of revulsion shook her as she remembered Percival’s attempt to kiss her. Then she smiled as she remembered that wonderful feeling of protection and safety that the tall, broad-shouldered stranger had given her.

And Adam Stevens knew John Martin.

Taking a deep breath, she got out of bed. Suddenly anxious that he might not have stayed through the night, she quickly dressed herself. When she had finished, she looked up at the texts above her bed. A faint smile tilted her lips as she remembered Mr. Stevens’s response to them, wondering what he had thought.

She bowed her head and uttered a brief, urgent prayer. Then she took a last hasty look in her mirror at her hair hanging in loose curls to her shoulders. Perhaps she should have rung for her maid after all. She shrugged. How she looked really did not matter.

She had a hand on the doorknob when she hesitated. Then she quickly unlocked the hidden drawer in which she kept her jewelry and private possessions away from prying eyes. Her hands trembled slightly as she withdrew the package she had removed from her father’s safe. She hesitated, wanting to examine the contents again, and yet so fearful. . .so fearful that her father would be able to hurt her even yet again.

Was it just a bare twenty-four hours since she had found them? As much as she had wanted to examine them closely, there had been no time for more than that cursory, stunned initial look at them. Old William, the butler, had knocked and hastily entered to tell her in faltering, upset tones so unlike him, that her cousin, Lord Farnley, had arrived early for the funeral.

Upset and shocked, she had immediately swept the contents back into the package and hastened to her room to avoid her cousin. Her maid had been waiting to fuss around her until she was dressed to her satisfaction. By then it had been time to leave for the church.

Afterward, once everyone had gone, she had intended to look in the safe for anything else, perhaps a letter of explanation from her father. Unfortunately, Percy had been home ahead of her.

“And it seems that perhaps you can help me find out what this all means, Adam Stevens,” she murmured as she thrust the package deep into a reticule she carried with her as she hurried from the room.

When she entered the large kitchen, Kate was disappointed that the housekeeper was already there starting her preparations for breakfast. She knew she had been foolish yesterday not eating and had hoped to grab a quick drink and something to eat before continuing her search of her father’s study.

Mrs. Cook smiled at her with some surprise and then gave her an anxious frown. “Should you be up so early, miss?” she said with a knowing smile.

With a pang Katie realized this dear woman, like all the staff at Fleetwood who had known her all her life, would no doubt be another one to lose her position in a few weeks’ time. Not only a position, but a home as well.

“Miss Beth thought you would be so exhausted you would want to stay quiet today,” the woman who was used to Kate’s early morning forays for food said reprovingly.

“I’ve almost slept the clock around, and I feel much better, Mrs. Cook, dear,” Kate said with forced cheerfulness. “But I am feeling a trifle hungry now since I missed supper last night.”

The round face beamed at her with relief. “Hungry you are, eh? Well, that can be easily fixed.”

The smile disappeared. With a trace of disapproval that a complete stranger had been given hospitality so soon after the funeral when other members of the family had delicately elected not to stay, she asked hesitantly, “Will that Mr. Stevens be here for lunch as well as breakfast, could you tell me, Miss Kate?”

Kate stared at her. “Mr. Stevens stayed the night?” she asked sharply. At the disapproving nod, relief swept through her. After a moment she said slowly, “I do not know how long he will be here, but I will let you know. However, I have little doubt Lord Percival will be back for lunch.”

Mrs. Cook stiffened, and Kate heard the apprehension in her voice as she sniffed and said, “I’m sure the new Lord Farnley will have no need to think the kitchen’s standards here are not good enough for him, I’m sure,” before hurrying off to produce the tastiest tray she could for Kate.

Kate sighed. It was very obvious that the staff knew they would not be in for an easy time with their new master.

It took longer than Kate had hoped before she could escape the kitchen and at last make her way to the study. As she entered the room, she looked down with a faint smile of satisfaction at the place where Percival had landed on the floor. It was always good for a bully to meet someone tougher and stronger than himself.

And Adam Stevens had certainly been that.

She went to open the French doors to let in some fresh air and help wipe out the memories. She shuddered as she dwelt on Percy’s determination to kiss her. It was by no means his first attempt to force his attentions on her, but this time there had been a strength of purpose, a gloating arrogance about the man that had frightened her. Suddenly she wished Adam Stevens had been around before to deal with the man.

Now, if it had been Adam who had tried to kiss her. . .

Shocked at the wanton thought, Kate shook her head, trying to banish the image of a firm, well-shaped mouth and piercing dark eyes that had searched her face so intently. She sat quickly in her father’s chair behind the desk, and then hesitated. She longed to finish reading the letters in her reticule, but she knew that before Percy returned she had to finish sorting out her father’s private papers. The first chance her cousin had, he would be poking and prying again.

He had already demonstrated there would be no waiting the month out, and she had to remove anything her father would not have liked him to see, especially if it had anything to do with the package he had locked away in his safe.

She pulled open the top drawer and gave an exclamation of anger. Its contents were in such disarray that she knew immediately Percival must have been searching through it very quickly indeed. A swift inspection of all the drawers showed them in similar state. He must have gone through them in considerable haste.

“What were you looking for, Percival?” she exclaimed angrily.

“I think perhaps I may know the answer to that.”

The soft voice behind her made her jump, and she swung around to see an elegantly clad Adam Stevens standing in the doorway watching her.

“Mr. Stevens, you startled me! I had not thought to see you so early.”

“The Reverend Barrett and his wife insisted I stay the night. I think they were afraid I would disappear before you had a chance to speak with me.”

Adam studied her face, relieved to see that the strained look of utter exhaustion had disappeared. There was still a faint shadow beneath those brilliant eyes, but her cheeks were now a healthy color. The color in them deepened, and he suddenly realized he was staring and looked swiftly back at the opened drawers with their rifled contents.

As he moved slowly into the room, she asked, “Why would you think you know what he was looking for, Mr. Stevens?” Her voice was steady, and as he studied her thoughtfully the color receded from her cheeks.

“Because I believe he may have been looking for what I also came to find.”

She looked puzzled for a moment. Then comprehension flashed across her face, and she drew a deep breath. “Would that be something to do with the John Martin you mentioned?”

“It is something that belongs to him,” he said tersely. “Tell me, Miss Farnley, what do you know about John Martin?”

“Tell me, Mr. Stevens, what do you know about him?” she shot back.

They stared at each other. Adam admired the stubborn tilt of her chin, but then he recognized the trace of fear and uncertainty in her wonderfully expressive eyes.

“I met him some weeks after he arrived in New South Wales, and now he is working for me,” he said slowly.

Astonishment washed away the uncertainty. “Working for you? But the last I heard about him he was a. . .” She bit her lip and turned slightly away from him to go and stare out through the open doors to the freedom of the open air and the blue sky.

“He still is a prisoner—or rather, a convict transported by the British justice system to the justice system of New South Wales,” he said bluntly. “He is one of my assigned convicts.”

She took obvious exception to the stinging censor in his voice and swung back to say fiercely, “He’s a convicted murderer! He killed a faithful old servant of ours who would not hurt a fly.”

He was silent. They stared at each other for a long moment, and it was her gaze that looked away first.

“If you believe that, then why did you react so strangely last night when I mentioned his name?”

She studied him intently. “Because I. . .only that morning I found something. . . Oh, how can I know if I can trust you?” she cried out.

There was desperation in her voice and her face. She suddenly looked so young and frightened that something deep inside Adam longed to comfort her, to reassure her that everything would be all right.

“Perhaps I should tell you something about myself,” he said slowly at last, thinking rapidly of those things in his past he dare not tell her if he wanted her to trust him.

“That is an excellent idea. You arrive here a complete stranger at a very sensitive family time and have been given the hospitality of my home and yet we know nothing about you, sir!”

There was asperity and a trace of sarcasm in her voice that made Adam raise his eyebrows. She flushed slightly, but merely lifted her chin and imperiously indicated a chair. “Please be seated, if you will, sir.”

He hesitated, considering her thoughtfully before sitting in a comfortable leather chair. He studied his hands, trying to work out how much to tell her.

At last he looked directly across the desk at her and said crisply, “My father and his older brother built up a clothing manufacturing business called Classic Styles in London. When my younger brother and I were still at school, both our parents were killed and our Uncle Samuel Stevens became our guardian. He had never married and was not used to nor did he like having two boys in his home, but he did make it his responsibility to train us both in the business to take over our father’s share.”

Adam paused. For years he had refused to dwell on the more unpleasant aspects of his upbringing. His uncle had been a tyrant and a bully. While Adam had stood up to the man, trying to protect his younger brother Andrew as much as he could, it had still been Andrew who had been the most affected. And certainly during the last years of Uncle Samuel’s life, Andrew had endured much while Adam had, in a sense, escaped.

Wry amusement touched him at the thought, but he suddenly found himself softening toward his brother. After all, Andrew had been so very, very young, so in love with the even younger Clarissa. Perhaps this was God’s way to help him forgive of Andrew what was really unforgivable.

Adam shook that grim thought off and said swiftly, “My uncle was never an easy man to live and work with, but my brother loved the business enough to stay. Then I had a. . .a major falling-out with them both roughly ten years ago, left the business, and have been in Australia ever since.”

He had almost flung the abrupt words at her. Kate was watching him closely, and he guessed she could not miss how stiffly he was holding himself as the memories flooded back. He hoped she had not seen his flicker of pain, swiftly controlled, when he mentioned Australia.

“My brother sent word of our uncle’s death, and I have returned to assist in the winding up of my late uncle’s affairs. I can give you our lawyer’s address if you wish to check up on me.”

He refrained from mentioning his utter amazement that his uncle had not after all cut him out of his will as he had vowed to but had instead given him an equal share with Andrew of the immense fortune he had accumulated.

Adam relaxed a little when Kate nodded her head slowly and said, “I own at least one nightgown made by Classic Styles and I believe a couple of dresses in the past.”

He had a sudden vision of the delicate nightwear garments his brother had proudly displayed when showing him through the huge showrooms. His hands clenched at the thought of her dressed in one, and he said shortly, “Well, yes, the business has expanded prosperously in recent years by going into more lines than when I was involved.”

He paused and added even more abruptly, “I am now at the other end of it all.” At her puzzled frown, he explained briefly, “I rear the sheep for the wool.”

She smiled at him a little shyly, and the unexpected sweetness of that smile washed through him. “I have heard about the large sheep farms in Australia and the settlers who have not long been given certain rights to the land they have moved their sheep onto.”

“Stations.”

She stared at him, and he added swiftly, “We only call smaller properties that grow vegetables, grain, or have a dairy, ‘farms.’ The sheep and cattle runs west of the mountain ranges have to be vast acreages because of the sparse vegetation and low rainfall and are called ‘stations.’ ”

Kate had always been very interested in learning about other countries and listened intently as Adam went on to tell her a little more. Stevens’ Downs was in the outback of New South Wales, several hundred miles west of Sydney.

When he paused, she asked softly, “Did you leave your wife on your. . .your station, Mr. Stevens, or did she accompany you back to England?” Immediately she wished she had not voiced the question as the light that had briefly lit his dark eyes disappeared.

“I have no family, Miss Farnley.” His voice was cold and distant as he added, “I am no longer close even to my brother and his wife and sons.”

As he paused, Kate suddenly knew by the fleeting pain in his eyes that something had happened in the past between the two brothers as well as with his uncle, some tragedy that had separated them those many thousands of miles.

She tensed as he said harshly, “John Martin has become much closer to me than Andrew, and I intend to do all that I can for him.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, each trying to read the other’s face. At long last it was Adam who said, “What do you know about John, Miss Farnley?”

She took a deep breath. “To my deep regret, very little about him as a person,” she said sadly. “I don’t think that I ever spoke to him myself. He arrived in this area looking for work and was employed on the estate primarily to help our gamekeeper, Jock Macallister, who was getting on in years.”

She raised her head proudly. “My father was loyal to loyal servants. He believed in letting them keep their pride in their work. Even though Jock was getting too old, John Martin was to be trained by him, but never to really replace him. Jock apparently even had John staying in his own home.” Her voice hardened. “Although he was treated like a member of the family, he bitterly betrayed them.”

“Despite a judge and jury who decided otherwise, John did not kill Jock Macallister, Miss Farnley.”

She stared at him. His quiet voice was filled with absolute certainty, his gaze steady.

“Then that makes only two people who believe in him,” she said just as quietly. Then she put a hand to her mouth and shut her eyes. If what she had read yesterday morning about John was true. . .

“Oh, I do hope you are right, sir!” she said.

“Two people?”

He had spoken so sharply that she raised her head quickly and stared at him.

“You said two people believe him innocent,” he said impatiently. “You, too, then believe so?”

Kate stared at him a moment longer and then slowly shook her head. How could she believe? “I. . .I wish I could say yes, but I cannot. When his trial was on, things were in great turmoil here with my stepmother close to death. I referred to my stepsister, Beth. She had struck up a friendship with the young foreigner.”

The man’s face hardened, and he looked swiftly away.

Kate suddenly made up her mind to trust him. After all, she did not know where else to start to try and make some sense of it all. She gestured toward the open drawers.

“I believe my cousin whom you. . .you met here yesterday knows much more than I do, Mr. Stevens. I believe he was looking for more information when he went through these drawers in such a hurry.”

“You think he was looking for something involving John?”

She looked back at him steadily, still wondering how much he knew and how much she should tell him about the contents of her reticule. “Yes,” she said briefly. “But before we go into that, I want to assure you that until yesterday morning when I. . .I explored my father’s safe, I really knew very little about John Martin.”

His steady regard did not change, and his expression told her nothing of what he was thinking. He’s certainly a master at keeping his feelings hidden, she thought a little crossly.

“I only saw him from a distance a couple times. Actually, if you want to know about his time here it should be Beth you are speaking to.”

Rather to her surprise that did bring a sharp response. But the flash of anger was quickly controlled. “And you think she believes he is innocent?”

As she nodded slowly, Kate frowned, wondering not for the first time about the extent of Beth’s involvement with the man who had lived and worked beside their chief gamekeeper.

“I believe she met him several times because she was quite good friends with our gamekeeper’s daughter, Jenny. Beth was devastated when we heard that he had been arrested and was being tried for murder, especially Jock Macallister’s murder.”

She continued hurriedly, “My sister was most adamant that he could never have done such a thing, but it was all about the time her mother’s health had deteriorated to the point none of us could leave her.”

Kate frowned. “In fact, I personally did not know that the matter had come to such a hasty trial until Percival told us he had been found guilty and was about to be sentenced.”

Her guest was very still and then suddenly looked down at his hands. One long finger slowly removed a piece of thread from his immaculate black coat.

“Percival?”

She stared at him curiously and then nodded abruptly. “Jock had been employed here since he was a child and his father before him. Apparently my father had delegated Percival, as his heir of course, to represent the family in the whole dreadful business. Mama was so ill he refused to leave her,” she said a little impatiently.

He looked up at her and said quietly, “John told me he and Beth were. . .were very good friends indeed, and you are telling me she knew nothing of his trial? Surely one would have thought she may have been called upon to give evidence on his behalf?”

He was watching her carefully as he spoke, and Kate thought he was suddenly even more tense than before.

Surprised, she frowned and said, “I fail to see what Beth could possibly have contributed.”

“Only an alibi for him. He says he was with her long before he found the man’s body and was subsequently arrested on the spot. He believes she could have verified he was nowhere near the place when the man was murdered.”

Her eyes widened. “Then why did his lawyers not ask her to testify?”

It was his turn to look uncertain. “From what he has said, I am sure he thought they had interviewed her and that she said she had not seen him at all that day or any other. In fact, John believes she refused to testify.”

Kate raised her head angrily. “Then he lied or was mistaken, because I know that my sister did not even know it was he who had been arrested until the day. . .the day her mother died.”

He regarded her steadily for a very long moment and then seemed to make up his mind about something.

“John is a devout Christian, Miss Farnley,” he said softly. “We have spent much time alone facing all the dangers of the bush and talked for endless hours about many things, including his new faith in Christ. I am very certain he is not a liar.”

There was no mistaking the quiet conviction in his voice. After looking at him intently for a long moment, Kate at last responded as softly, “My stepsister is a very religious woman also. Are you a devout Christian too, Mr. Stevens?”

Adam had already decided that this was a very unusual young woman, but he wondered that a woman in her position in society would think of asking such a very personal question. She was regarding him closely, an extra touch of color in her cheeks.

“I have made a personal commitment of my life to Jesus Christ,” he replied, looking at her steadily, “but this happened only a very short while before returning to England, and I can say with certainty that I still have much to learn and experience before I come anywhere near John’s steadfast faith. And you? I noticed those embroidered texts above your bed. Do they mean anything to you, or were they just an exercise in sewing and merely ornamental?”

To his surprise, utter relief flashed across her face. The sudden sweetness of her smile shook him even more. “I am so glad and relieved your faith means so much to you.”

That endearing touch of shyness filled her brilliant blue eyes again before she looked away. “My own faith is so weak that I need those words constantly before me. ‘My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness’ and ‘Forgive seventy times seven,’ ” she quoted softly, if a little sadly, “have helped me to cope and given me hope many times.”

He wondered why she needed to be reminded to forgive. Surely if anyone needed to be reminded of that it was men like him and John.

Suddenly she straightened. A determined glint replaced the sadness and need. “Right, Mr. Stevens, if neither Beth nor Mr. Martin are liars, then they have either been lied to or been very badly mistaken. Or. . .”

She hesitated and bit her soft, bottom lip. “My father was very protective of Beth, and apparently Jock Macallister was killed the day my stepmother was taken very ill. She was very sick for many, many weeks. Everything was in utter turmoil, and I know he would have prevented anything else intruding. Although afterward I did think it a little strange that Percival had not mentioned anything of the whole matter to me personally.”

“From what John and I now know, it is not at all strange. Were you aware that your cousin was very helpful to John before and during his trial? Or at least, John thought he was at the time. Now he knows differently.”

“Percival was helpful?” she said with surprise. “Percival Farnley would not lift a finger to help anyone unless. . .” She stopped and after a moment said very slowly and thoughtfully, “Unless it meant that it was in his own best interests to do so.”

And of course that was the explanation. Percy knew.

Suddenly Kate was convinced beyond any doubt that what she had found in her father’s safe was true. Whether Percival had been a party to keeping it a secret or not did not matter. Obviously he must have been aware or suspected the truth to risk searching for those documents.

That alone meant that he believed the information in them to be true.

With wonder and increasing excitement, Kate reached for her reticule and withdrew the packet. “Is this what you needed to see my father about, Mr. Stevens?”

Carefully she removed the Bible and the letters. She hesitated for the briefest moment before placing them on the desk between them and murmuring softly, “These papers and the entry in this family Bible claim that John Martin is my half brother. Do you know if that could possibly be true, Mr. Stevens?”