Diana stepped from the carriage into the street outside of the hotel, Ned following right behind. “We won’t be long, Gibson,” she told the driver.
Good moments and bad alike had filled the last six days since the discovery of the stolen items. Ned had been required to face each person he’d taken something from and apologize. This final confrontation had been delayed—much to Diana’s temporary relief—because the Kingston twins had been visiting Yellowstone National Park. They’d returned to their hotel yesterday.
Diana reached for Ned’s hand, wishing she hadn’t insisted she and the boy come without Tyson. Two weeks ago she’d stood up to Pauline on behalf of their household staff and had been right to do so. But in the end, someone in her home had stolen the ring. She must face the woman and admit it, and she needed to do it without Tyson at her side.
It was part of the new Diana. The woman who would take courage from God even when afraid in her spirit and flesh. It was enough to propel her forward into the lobby of the hotel, Ned in tow. A short while later, they were shown into the suite of Pauline and Quentin Kingston.
Pauline stood near the fireplace, a look of dislike in her dark eyes. “Mrs. Applegate.” Her gaze flicked to Ned, then back again. “What a surprise.”
“Thank you for seeing us.”
“Tyson isn’t with you?”
“No. Ned and I came alone. It … it’s about your ring.”
Triumph flashed across Pauline’s face. “I was right. Who took it? Your butler. Or was it that silly kitchen maid who helped at lunch? Has the culprit been arrested?”
Diana released Ned’s hand and gave the boy a nod.
He took a few steps toward Pauline. “I took it, Miss Kingston. I’m sorry.” His gaze locked on the carpet, he held out one hand, palm up, revealing the ring.
“The orphan boy.” Pauline plucked the jewelry from his hand. “I should have known.”
Ned returned to stand beside Diana.
Pauline tipped her head slightly to one side. “You are not who I thought you would be before I met you, Mrs. Applegate. And I gather you are not who Tyson thought you were when he left you alone all those years.”
Diana knew the woman hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but she took it as one, all the same. “Perhaps none of us are who people think we are.”
“You were afraid of me when we first met.”
“Yes, I was.”
“You thought I might take Tyson away.”
Yes.
“But you aren’t afraid of me now.”
“No.” Diana smiled, realizing how true it was.
“I suppose you have won.”
Yes!
“Then this is good-bye, I suppose. My brother and I aren’t likely to return to this horrible little town again.”
Diana grabbed Ned’s hand and they hurried out of the suite. Her heart felt lighter than it had in days. But when they exited through the lobby doorways a short while later, the carriage wasn’t waiting near the curb. She looked up and down the street. Where had Gibson gone?
“One of those horrid motorcars frightened the horses.”
She turned at Brook Calhoun’s words.
He tipped his hat. “It’s good to see you again, Diana.” His gaze lowered to Ned. “And you, young man.”
Brook had lost weight since she’d seen him in the park on Independence Day. Dark shadows underscored his eyes, and his skin had ghostly pallor. An uneasiness shivered through her.
“I saw what happened with your carriage horses and told your driver to wait for you around the block on Idaho Street. There’s less traffic there at this time of day.” Brook offered the crook of his arm. “And I promised him I would escort you.”
“There’s no need of inconveniencing you. Ned and I can find him.” To prove it, she turned and moved along the sidewalk.
“No inconvenience, my dear. I’m headed in that direction myself.” He matched his stride to hers.
She tried to tell herself it was silly, this uneasiness. Still, there was something in the way Brook glanced at her, a particular light in his eyes that seemed … different.
They turned the corner. She looked up and down the street, but there was no sign of Gibson and the Applegate carriage.
“I wonder where he is,” Brook said. “Not a cab in sight either. Come with me to my office, and I’ll call for one.”
“That isn’t necessary. Really. Ned and I will walk home. It’s a pleasant morning, and it isn’t all that far.”
His hand closed around her upper arm. “Please, Diana. I insist. I feel as if this is my fault. Allow me to make it up to you.”
From the window in the library, Tyson saw the return of the carriage. He waited for Diana and Ned to come into the house, anxious to know how things had gone with Pauline, hoping nothing had gone awry to shake the foundations of his marriage once again. He wasn’t really afraid of that happening, but Pauline could be unpredictable.
Tired of waiting, he headed toward the back of the house, guessing Diana had stopped to talk to her mother and his father in the garden before coming inside. But she wasn’t there. Nor were their parents.
Peculiar.
He strode down the path toward the carriage shed. When he arrived, he saw Gibson and Fernando leading the team toward one of the paddocks.
“Gibson!”
The coachman stopped and turned.
“Where are Mrs. Applegate and Ned?”
“At the hotel, sir.”
Tyson frowned. “You left her there?”
“She sent down a hotel message boy to tell me they were staying for lunch with Miss Kingston and I was to return home as they would hire a cab when finished.”
Lunch with Pauline? That seemed unlikely. Didn’t it? Pauline Kingston wasn’t the forgive-and-forget sort. He couldn’t see her issuing such an invitation, no matter what Diana said to her.
Maybe he should go into town. Then again, Diana hadn’t wanted him along. She’d felt the responsibility was hers and had been determined to see it through on her own. She wouldn’t welcome his interference now.
Turning on his heel, he started back toward the house at a slower pace. He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he knew why this bothered him so much. It shouldn’t, but it did.
Upchurch opened the back porch door as Tyson started up the steps. “I was coming for you, sir. There are some gentlemen to see you. I showed them into the parlor.”
“Did they give their names?”
“Yes, sir. A Mr. Crawley. I didn’t catch the other gentleman’s name.”
Crawley, calling at his home. And it could only be about the second matter he’d asked the investigator to look into. Diana’s family. Finding Dillon Macartan had turned out well. Tyson could only hope the same would hold true again.
When he reached the parlor entrance, he stopped. Lawrence Crawley stood near the front windows while another man looked at photographs lining a table near the far wall. The stranger was tall with the build of a working man, something attested to by his attire—cotton shirt, Levi’s, and boots. He held a hat by its wide brim in his left hand.
Tyson cleared his throat.
Both men turned.
Crawley grinned. “Mr. Applegate, I have more good news.” He motioned for the other man to come forward. “This gentleman is Hugh Brennan. Turns out while I was looking into his whereabouts he was doing the same about your missus. Mr. Brennan, this is Tyson Applegate, your sister’s husband.”
They shook hands.
Afterward, Hugh pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. A clipping from a newspaper, it looked like. When he unfolded it, Tyson saw it was a photograph. A photograph of him and Diana from a recent campaign event. “Diana looks like our mother, even in this grainy photograph.”
“Where did Mr. Crawley find you? How far have you come?”
“Not far. My wife and I live on a ranch along the Boise River. Our other sister and her family live in Frenchman’s Bluff.”
“Both of you, here? So close to Boise? All these years?”
“No.” Hugh shook his head. “Not long. I didn’t come west from Illinois until just over a year ago. Felicia grew up in Wyoming and moved to Frenchman’s Bluff to teach school in ‘97. I found her last year, but locating Diana was more difficult.”
“Excuse me a moment.” Tyson went to the doorway and called for Upchurch. “Send Gibson into town at once. Tell him Mrs. Applegate is required at the house immediately.”
Concern filled Upchurch’s eyes. “Is something amiss, sir?”
“No, Upchurch. It’s good news. The very best kind.”
May 1900
When Tyson learned about the impending announcement of Diana’s engagement, the earth seemed to shift beneath his feet.
For several months, he’d planned for his return to Idaho. Not to the home of his father but to the capital city—where, it so happened, his wife resided with her mother. How perfect was that? Detail after detail had fallen into place, concerning his new residence in Boise, concerning his run for the Senate seat, concerning his money that had been carefully kept out of his father’s control.
It had all been so easy. Tyson had assumed it was a sign of God’s blessing. Perhaps that’s why the news of Diana’s plans to marry another man hadn’t alarmed him at first. He’d assumed even that would go away with little inconvenience to himself.
But he hadn’t expected her to announce her engagement the night prior to the anticipated proclamation of his demise. Tomorrow had been the day he’d planned for her to learn she wasn’t a widow.
He couldn’t wait until tomorrow. He didn’t want her to be subject to public ridicule. He would have to stop her tonight. It wasn’t the way he’d imagined their first meeting after so many years apart, but it couldn’t be helped.