Lydia’s heart started thumping again. “You haven’t told me why you’re here,” she said calmly, taking the chair opposite him.
“You probably already know, Lydia. I’ve had time to think about your reaction when you came into Father Colgan’s office today. You never told me who you were expecting, but it’s become clear to me. You thought I was going to be Brig.”
She nodded. “You’ve seen him then? He’s already at Ballaburn?”
“No to both your questions. He hadn’t arrived when I left. Did you think he would go there?”
“He said he would.”
Nathan swore under his breath. He looked away from Lydia and into the fireplace. “I’d hoped to get here before you had to talk to him at all. Word reached Ballaburn a few days back that he was in Sydney. I was in the bush until last night or I would have come sooner.” He got up, poured himself a drink, and sat down again, this time on the arm of the chair. “How did he find you?”
“I’m not certain,” Lydia said. “I don’t think it was very hard. I wasn’t really hiding from him. I know you said there was a chance he’d recover, but I suppose at the back of my mind, I really believed I killed him. When I saw him again...”
Nathan finished for her. “You wished you had.”
“Yes.” Her eyes closed briefly. “I’m not proud of it, but that’s what I wished.”
To keep from reaching for Lydia, Nathan’s hand tightened around the glass he held. Keeping his voice carefully neutral, he asked, “How many times have you seen Brig?”
“Three times. Twice at school, once here at the hotel. He got Henry to let him in my room.”
“He what?”
“It’s all right, Nathan. I’ve spoken to Henry since then. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right it won’t. You’re coming back to Ballaburn where I know you’ll be safe.”
Lydia blinked at his harsh tone. “I’ll stay just where I am, thank you very much.”
“This really isn’t open for discussion.” Nathan knocked back his drink and set his glass down. “I didn’t come here with that intention, but knowing what I do now there’s no better alternative. Irish told me that you think Brig’s a killer. If you believe that’s true, Lydia, then you need to be where I can protect you.”
“If I believe it’s true?” she asked.“If?You must know the truth, Nathan. I think you’ve suspected for a long, long time, but your misplaced sense of loyalty to Brig has kept you silent. If you didn’t know him for what he was you wouldn’t want me back at Ballaburn, you wouldn’t have followed him to San Francisco, you wouldn’t have left me and Fa’amusami on the beach so you could question her father about another similar murder.”
Nathan went to the French doors and stood with his back to them, his features blurring in the shadows. “I want you back at Ballaburn because I know Brig will continue to harass you anywhere else. I followed Brig to San Francisco because that was the only way I had a chance of getting the station for myself. And you don’t know what I talked to Fa’amusami’s father about because I never told you.”
“Tell me now.”
He shrugged. “Very well. I asked Fiame about a certain aphrodisiac I’d heard existed on the island. Do you know what an aphrodisiac is?”
“Yes, but I don’t believe you.” It was hard not to put her cool hands to her burning cheeks. “You left just as Fa’amusami was talking about that young girl’s suicide.”
“Coincidence.”
Lydia went to the bed, routed through her satchel, and withdrew a blank sheet of paper. She gave it to Nathan. “Fold that,” she said. “What?”
“Fold it. Go on. I want to prove something to myself, then I’ll prove it to you.”
Nathan shook his head, bewildered, but did as she asked. He folded it once, patting the crease with his fingertips. “Again?” he asked. She nodded. He folded it several more times, each time patting the crease the same way, then gave the square back to Lydia. “Now what did that prove?”
“The night I shot Brigham I went to your hotel room because I thought I was meeting you. Earlier that day I had been to Madame Simone’s salon. I bought some dresses, was measured for a few others, and went home with a couple of parcels. One of those parcels contained a note, from you, I thought. It was neatly folded, tightly creased, so much so that when I opened it I had to be careful not to tear the paper.” She opened the paper Nathan had folded for her with no such difficulty.
“I had never seen your handwriting so I had nothing to compare it to. There was something else in the parcel that led me to believe I was dealing with you—a square of fabric from my yellow ballgown. Remember it? It’s the one I wore to my charity ball and later to the brothel in Portsmouth Square. I ruined it trying to deliver Charlotte’s baby.”
“I remember. I gave you something of Ginny’s to wear.”
She nodded. “Which you later returned to her.”
“She was already dead then.”
