A lovely smile radiated on her face. “We are a pair, are we not?”
Somewhere deep, humor bubbled up and broke free. A great belly laugh roared out of him. Eva joined in until they both collapsed onto the folded blanket, clutching their stomachs. It was hard to remember that barely an hour ago they’d been frozen to the bone.
Bram glanced over at her. “No wonder they say confession is good for the soul.”
“Indeed.” Her smile faded. For a long while she said nothing, her pale blue eyes almost ethereal in the firelight. “I suspect, though, you are not quite finished confessing. There is more, is there not?”
“I have told you everything about my mother. There is no more that I know.” He narrowed his eyes. “What is it you suspect?”
She toyed with the frayed hem of the blanket, picking at strings for a while before turning back to him. “If we are being fully honest with each other here tonight—and I think that we are—then you should know I have heard you were indicted for theft from a dig site. Is it true? Did you do such a thing?”
His gut sank.
How was he to answer that?
Eva watched Bram as he rose and silently paced, clearly lost deep in thought. Was he truly a thief? And if so, how could she keep him on at the manor? She needed those relics—all the relics—to bring in money, yet it would cut deep to send Bram away. Though she hated to admit it, she’d become attached to this man over the past month and a half. Too attached for her own good, apparently.
The fire snapped, and she jumped. If—and that was a big if—Bram was behind the missing brooch, what about the other suspicious mishaps? He couldn’t be the cause of all the unfortunate incidents if his job was on the line with this dig. It just didn’t make sense.
Bram returned with an armful of broken wall slats and table legs. After dumping the pile on the floor near the mouth of the hearth, he leaned against the mantel, his face inscrutable in the shadows. “Where did you hear a tale like that?”
Her shoulders sagged. The reverend’s words must be true, or Bram would have denied the accusation.
Oh,Bram.
A chill shivered down her spine, and she scooted closer to the fire. “The Reverend Mr. Blackwood has connections at Trinity. For my sake, he inquired about you.”
She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Bram whispered something beneath his breath. He scrubbed a hand over his face, and when he lowered it, his head dipped as well. “Whatever he told you is likely true. I was indicted for the theft of a first-century signet ring at Verulamium—St. Albans, as you know it.” His shoulders straightened as he stepped away from the hearth. “But I was also fully acquitted as the item was never proven to be in my possession because the ring was returned. So there you have it.”
Once again he sat next to her, legs stretched out, staring into the flames as if he’d put an end to the conversation.
Which was absurd. More questions than ever sprang to her tongue. She shifted on the blanket, facing him instead of the hearth, the side of her body away from the heat feeling the chill of the old house. “Surely whoever returned the ring must have been the one to have stolen it.”
“Possibly, but no one knows who replaced it.”
She pressed her fingers to her temple, the slight throb of a headache beginning. “Why were you under suspicion? And why do I feel as if you are only giving enough information to appease me so I stop asking questions?” She searched his profile, for he had yet to face her. “I would have the truth, Bram, and I would have it now.”
A muscle jumped on his jawline, several times, as if he chewed on a bite of gristle he’d rather spit out. For a long while only the fire spoke in pops and crackles. The wind yet howled, not as forcefully, but strong enough to make her lean toward Bram when he finally opened his mouth.
“It was not me who took the ring. It was my uncle.”
“Professor Pendleton!” She leaned back on the blanket, planting her hands on the icy floorboards behind her. “I find it hard to believe that dear old man is a thief.”
“He is not.” Bram sighed and finally faced her, though she doubted he saw her. He was somewhere in the past, out of this storm, away from this house, reliving an event that clearly distressed him, such were the lines on his brow.
“It was a busy afternoon, that day,” he began. “My uncle was the site director, and anything that could go wrong did. He had been working on cleaning the signet ring when he was called away for an emergency. I found out later that one of the support structures had collapsed, trapping two students. One of them broke his leg, not that it matters now. At any rate, my uncle shoved the ring into his pocket and tended to the emergency, then promptly forgot he had done so. The ring had already been documented, so it was reported as missing.”
“That was a simple oversight, not a theft.”
His gaze sharpened on her. “Any missing antiquity on a proper dig site is considered stolen unless proven otherwise.”
“Your uncle could have proven it. All he had to do was take the ring out of his pocket and explain the situation.”
“He did not remember it was there.” Bram flailed his hand in the air. “And being I was the last one left in the work tent, the blame fell on me. The college has a strict policy that the person nearest an artifact at the time of its disappearance is the responsible party. I became the scapegoat, with charges brought against me.”
“How unfair!” Eva sat upright, incensed at such an injustice. “So what happened? You said you were acquitted.”
“My uncle and I were scheduled to go before the disciplinary board, and wishing us both to be in fine form, I retrieved my uncle’s suit coat in order to brush it clean, make sure no buttons were missing, and the like. That is when I discoveredthe ring in his pocket. Before the board met, I simply snuck in and restored the relic to the collection.” His lips twisted wryly. “The board had no choice but to drop the charges once my uncle discovered the lost had been found.”
