Jasper looked like a little boy embarrassed—an expression Emeline was familiar with from childhood. It was one he often used to get his own way without too much argument. “I thought I might help you in your inquiries, since I’m not the traitor.”
“I’m relieved you have acquitted yourself,” Samuel began rather stiffly, “but I’m not so sanguine—”
“Oh, come, Samuel!” Emeline burst out. “You know Jasper isn’t the traitor. Admit it.” She glared at him, only belatedly realizing that she’d used his Christian name.
Samuel made a pretty, overshowy bow to her. “As my lady wishes.” He turned to Jasper. “I admit your innocence, if only to appease your fiancée.”
“Kind of you, I’m sure.” Jasper smiled with exposed teeth.
Samuel bared his teeth back.
Emeline straightened determinedly. “So it is decided, then. You will investigate the massacre and its aftermath. Together.”
Jasper raised his eyebrows at Samuel.
Who nodded grimly. “Together.”
Chapter Eight
Day after day and night after night, Iron Heart guarded Princess Solace. He stood behind her as she ate her meals. He followed her as she paced the royal gardens. He rode beside her as she hunted with her falcons. And he listened with a grave face as she told him her thoughts, her feelings, and the deepest secrets that lay hidden in her heart. It is a strange fact, but a true one nonetheless: a lady may come to love a man though he speak not a word....
—from Iron Heart
Rebecca cracked the door to her room and peered out. The hall outside seemed deserted. Moving quietly, she tiptoed into the hall and shut the door behind her. She was supposed to be lying down with an aching head. Evans had already supplied her with a scented cloth and the instructions to keep it on her forehead for the next half hour. But since the headache had only been an excuse in the first place, Rebecca didn’t feel any guilt about not following orders. What she did feel was a sneaking fear of her own maid. Hence her furtive movements.
She crept down the stairs and headed toward the back of the house, to the door that led out to the garden. She’d been so frightened when Samuel had had that fit in the ballroom the night before. Her elder brother always seemed so solid, so strong and in control. To see Samuel suddenly shivering and white had terrified her. Samuel was the rock she leaned on. Without him, who would be her support?
Voices came from above, and Rebecca paused. The voices coalesced into two maids arguing over the cleaning of the fireplace grates, and she relaxed. The back passage was dark, but the door was just ahead. It was ridiculous, after the fear she’d felt for her brother in the ballroom, to then feel betrayed when he revealed his real reason for coming to England. She had been the one to beg to come on this trip. She’d been so happy—so grateful—when he acquiesced to her pleas. Now, her disappointment was in proportion to her initial happiness.
Rebecca pushed open the door that led into the back garden and fled into the sunlight. Perhaps because the true owners rented the town house out, its garden had a dismal air of neglect. There were no flowers, at least none in bloom. Instead, there were a few gravel paths bordered with shoulder-height hedges. Here and there, an ornamental tree grew, and sometimes the hedges parted to reveal a square or circle with miniature hedges cut into intricate patterns. Benches lined the path at frequent intervals in case the walker became tired of this monotonous scenery.
Rebecca wandered down one of the paths, letting her hand idly brush the scraggly hedges as she passed. Her emotions for Samuel were overwrought, she knew. She felt as if she were always nagging him for his attention, like a little child, instead of a grown woman. Why she should feel this way, she wasn’t clear. Perhaps—
“Good afternoon.”
Rebecca started at the voice and swung around. The hedge parted to her right to reveal another one of the little square openings, and a man rose from the bench inside. He was red-haired, and for a moment she couldn’t place him. He stepped forward, and she realized that it was Samuel’s army friend, the one they’d met in the street. She couldn’t remember his name.
“Oh! I didn’t see you there.”
He smiled, revealing lovely white teeth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“That’s all right.” There was a pause, and she glanced around the otherwise deserted garden. “Um...why...?”
“You must be wondering what I’m doing in your lovely garden.”
She nodded gratefully.
“Well, actually I came to call upon your brother,” he said with a wry, confiding smile. “But he isn’t in, so I came out here to wait for his return. I’d hoped we could catch up a bit, your brother and I. I don’t see many men from the old regiment anymore. Most died, you know, in the massacre, and the ones who didn’t were scattered to other regiments immediately afterward.”
“Spinner’s Falls,” she whispered.
The name of the battle was engraved on her brain now. Samuel had never mentioned it to her. She’d had no inkling how important the event was to him until the ball last night.
Impulsively, she leaned toward the man. “Can you tell me about Spinner’s Falls? What happened there? Samuel doesn’t talk of it.”
His eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. “Of course, of course. I understand exactly.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and began strolling, his chin against his chest as he thought.