The Lightkeeper's Ball (35 page)

Her mother blanched. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought it through.” She rubbed her head and moaned. “That woman. I can’t believe she would have been bold enough to contact him. And knowing my husband, he probably
did
give her money.”

“We might be able to trace Richard that way,” Harrison said, leaning forward in his chair. “With your permission, I’ll get on it.”

“Our solicitor will be here tomorrow. He can handle it,” her mother said.

Olivia saw Harrison sit back in his chair. “I’d like you to be here when we talk to our attorney, Harrison,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”

He straightened. “I would welcome the chance to help.”

“M-Mrs. Stewart, you seem to blame Lulu for the entire situation. What of your husband’s role?”

The older woman gave her a cold glance. “Men will always be men, my dear. You’ll learn that soon enough.” She rose. “We must get to bed. Lady Devonworth, you can see Mr. Bennett out.” Her tone made it clear her daughter was not to dawdle.

T
HIRTY-THREE

O
LIVIA WALKED WITH
Harrison to the front door and stepped out onto the porch with him. She wished she dared ask him what he had started to say several times. The gaslight by her head hissed and danced in the faint breeze off the ocean.

She took his hand. “Thank you for looking out for me tonight, Harrison. I want you to go home now. I’m going to bed and I promise I won’t answer any summons.”

He raised her fingers to his lips. “I’d rather stay awhile. Want to take a walk in the moonlight?”

She hesitated. Maybe she could get up the courage to tell him her name. “Is it safe?”

“I’ll protect you,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have the guard walk a few feet behind us.”

“I’d love to,” she said.

“Need a wrap?”

“I’m fine.” Just being around him warmed her more than any shawl. She took his arm and they strolled down the drive.

“I think we’d better stick to the sidewalk,” he said, guiding her toward the street. “The gardens could hide an intruder.”

They passed the guard, and Harrison told him to keep an eye on them. She liked the way he slowed his steps to match hers and the tender way he helped her down the curb. It seemed so much more than mere courtesy. Was it? The path was dark except for the occasional open arc lamp. Every time they stepped into the shadows, she wished he would stop, take her in his arms, and kiss her until she was breathless—which wouldn’t take much, because she already had to force herself to drag in air whenever she was in his presence.

Was this love?

They walked in silence to the end of the block, then turned to go back the way they’d come. Olivia saw a movement near the shrubbery and paused. The glow from the arc light illuminated the figure of a man hiding in the bushes. Her fingers clamped onto Harrison’s arm.

“There’s a man watching us,” she said.

“I see him. Wait here.” He walked toward the shrubbery. “You there! Show yourself.”

The leaves erupted and the figure raced off the other way. Olivia stared. There was something about the shape of his head, the way he held his shoulders. She started to shout, “Father,” then choked back the word. Harrison gave chase to the fellow and she ran after them. The guard rushed past her and pursued the men as well.

The men vanished around the corner, and she paused to catch her breath. Her chest burned with the exertion, but she forced herself to break into a jog again. She turned the corner and saw Harrison coming back toward her.

“I lost him,” he said when he reached her.

She seized his arm. “Oh, Harrison, I think it was Mr. Stewart.”

He frowned. “Honey, are you sure? You thought the man who called you to the backyard was Stewart too. The lighting is poor. How could you tell? I couldn’t make out anything but a dark shape.”

She liked hearing the word
honey
on his lips. His doubt rattled her, though, made her question what she’d seen. “I can’t explain it, but I think it was him. Something about the shape of his head. But why wouldn’t he reveal himself to us?”

“We keep going round and round about that. Was he in any kind of trouble when he disappeared?”

She shook her head.

“Did he gamble?”

She stared down the street, willing the man to reappear. “He hates gambling. He says gamblers are fools.”

She remembered the tilt of his head. “Could it be Richard? Maybe he looks like Mr. Stewart.”

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.” He turned her back toward the house. “I want to get you safely inside. I should never have brought you out in the night.”

The guard joined them and hustled them back to the manor. She kept glancing back for another glimpse of the man, but all she saw were shadows and shrubs.

Silver chinked at the luncheon table on the terrace and mingled with the birdsong in the background. Lady Devonworth had insisted Harrison stay the night at Stewart Hall, and he’d been happy to oblige to ensure there were no more attacks. Though he hadn’t done much to prevent last night’s stalker. Harrison had tried to push the events from his mind by talking about aeroplanes with Will during the meal, but his thoughts kept going back to what had happened.

Mrs. Stewart’s mouth was pursed and her eyes went distant every time she looked at him. He knew she blamed him for last night’s near miss. And rightly so. He should never have taken his fiancée from the premises. He still shuddered when he thought about what might have happened. The man might have had a gun.

“Did you see this man Lady Devonworth claimed was Marshall?” Mrs. Stewart asked. She stared out the window.

“Only from the back. I thought he looked too slim to be Mr. Stewart.” He raised an apologetic glance Lady Devonworth’s way.

“I was probably mistaken,” Lady Devonworth said.

How much of what Lady Devonworth saw was wishful thinking? If that man last night had been Mr. Stewart, he would have spoken to her. It was dark. No one was around. There was no reason for him to hide.

“What I don’t understand is that if it really
is
Mr. Stewart, why would he want to harm you, honey?” he asked her.

She blanched. “Harm me?”

“He threw you over a cliff into the sea,” he reminded her.

“That wasn’t him. That man’s voice was huskier than Mr. Stewart’s, younger somehow too. I believe Mr. Stewart had left, and the attacker took advantage of the opportunity.”

“You heard him call your name just before you went outside.”

She bit her lip. “True. That lends more credence to the possibility that it’s Richard Pixton.” She stared at him, then at Mrs. Stewart. “But I’d thought he was trying to protect me,” she said.

“Who, dear?” Mrs. Stewart speared a section of orange.

“Mr. Stewart. He saw us leave the premises and was watching to protect me. When we saw him, he had to run.”

Harrison stared at her, not sure how her mind worked. “How do you reason that out?” Not that he totally disbelieved it, but it seemed a leap in logic.

“I keep seeing him just before danger strikes. I think he’s doing the best he can for me.”

Mrs. Stewart banged down her fork. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! If my husband is out there, he would let us know. He’s not a cruel man, and letting me mourn him if he’s not dead is the height of cruelty.”

Lady Devonworth’s lips flattened. “I didn’t mean to offend, Mrs. Stewart.”

The doorbell rang. Who would call right at lunchtime?

“I imagine it’s my brother Philip,” Will said, scooting back his chair. “That lad pays no attention to time.” He darted through the door to the dining room, leaving the door open behind him.

Harrison heard backslapping and boisterous greetings between the brothers. It appeared they had been separated for several months. Will returned to the terrace with two men in tow. Harrison appraised the younger of the two, Philip. Very young and a snappy dresser. But Will had said he was good at his job. The older, portly gentleman must be the attorney, Mr. Grayson. His hunch was confirmed when Lady Devonworth and Mrs. Stewart leaped up to greet him.

“Have you had luncheon, gentlemen?” Mrs. Stewart asked.

To his credit, Philip flushed. “No, ma’am, I came straight here from my boat.”

“Nor I,” Grayson said. “But don’t trouble yourself. I can eat in town.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Stewart said. “I’ll have two more plates brought. Sit here by me, Mr. Grayson.” She indicated the chair to her right.

A hummingbird sat on the back of the chair, and it darted away when Philip approached. When he sat down beside Lady Devonworth, he eyed Mrs. Stewart as though he wasn’t sure whether she would snarl or smile.

“Will tells me you have some experience in tracing missing men,” Lady Devonworth said.

“It’s my passion,” Philip said. “How can I help you? Will was very vague.”

Under the table, Harrison took her hand. She squeezed his fingers and a smile lifted her lips. Did she sense his feelings? Every time he tried to tell her, something interrupted. He was unsure if God was warning him off or if it was coincidence.

Mrs. Stewart dabbed her lips with the napkin. “My husband was reported dead after a diamond mine he was examining caved in.”

Philip took a notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket and began to write. “Where did this occur?”

“At a black-diamond mine in Africa.”

Will whistled. “I hadn’t heard that. Black diamonds. I’ve never seen one.”

“Marshall was most excited about the acquisition of that mine,” Mrs. Stewart said. “The explosion buried fifty men. Their bodies were never recovered.”

“Who informed you of this accident?”

“I received a telegram from Mr. Bennett. He’d been on the scene and was able to give us the details of what happened. Apparently, Marshall was there when a new lode was discovered. In the excitement, he wanted to see it for himself. Mr. Bennett was ill and stayed behind.” She shot a narrowed glare at Harrison.

Lady Devonworth’s grip on Harrison’s hand had made his fingers numb.

“Do you suspect foul play?” Philip asked.

Mrs. Stewart played with her fork. “I didn’t. Now I don’t know.” Her voice faltered. “Lady Devonworth here found a letter he sent to Eleanor. According to this letter—in Marshall’s handwriting—he isn’t dead. And he warns her against the Bennetts.”

“Have you found any evidence this is true?”

Mrs. Stewart glanced at Lady Devonworth, who stared down at the table and said, “I heard a voice in the speaking tube that claimed to be Mr. Stewart. After I went down to meet him, I was attacked and thrown into the sea after being rendered unconscious by chloroform. And last night Harrison and I saw a man who resembled Mr. Stewart.”

“Last night, you say? Where?” Philip put down his pencil.

“Just down the block.” She described the man they’d seen. “I don’t believe it could possibly be Mr. Stewart, though. He would never harm me.”

“If he’s here in town, someone has seen him.”

“And no one has,” Mrs. Stewart said.

“That’s not exactly true,” Lady Devonworth said. “Goldia thought she saw him in town.”

“That girl is a flibbertigibbet. You can’t believe anything she says.” Mrs. Stewart glanced at the attorney. “You need to find out if these documents are forged.”