“No. But it’s simple to discover, surely?”
The two men looked at each other.
Rossiter said, “You are quite sure, Naomi? Yousawthe other chessman?”
She frowned. “I might have guessed you’d not believe me! Or is it that your burgeoning imagination now sees my father as having lied? Well, I can assure you that is not so, for one of the reasons he came to Falcon House this morning was to show me the piece.”
Puzzled, Rossiter muttered, “Then—why the need for all this, I wonder?”
“I would think that should be perfectly clear. You were mistaken in believing it has aught to do with the lost chessman. At least, with the one belonging my papa!”
He was silent, staring fixedly at a broken china bowl.
Morris picked it up and said rather helplessly, “Might be stuck back together, I suppose, dear boy.”
Rossiter sighed. “We shall be obliged to buy gallons of glue.”
Her heart touched by his twisted attempt at a smile, Naomi’s resentment fled. “Oh, never say the whole house is like this.”
“As bad, or worse,” answered Morris disconsolately.
“Whoever they are, whatever they want,” said Rossiter, “they’re devilish determined.” His own words sounded defeated, and impatient with himself, he pulled back his shoulders and looking into Naomi’s lovely and concerned face, said in a more cheerful voice, “You are very good to have driven all this way to bring me the news. But I think you are here without your father’s permission, eh, ma’am?”
The tenderness was in his eyes again, a silent caress that enthralled her. She said in a faraway voice, “I am of an age to go about as I choose.”
“Quite the lady of independence,” he teased.
“Not so independent I would willingly distress him. Any more than you would wish to offend Sir Mark.”
They both knew that they were not discussing her having called at the farm, and they gazed at each other, lost to their surroundings and their companions until Morris coughed, and suggested for the second time that they should go and find the constable.
Rossiter said with a start, “What? Oh—er, well I rather suspect that is where my people must be, Jamie.”
Also startled, Naomi felt her cheeks redden. Flustered, she turned to Morris and asked, “Pray what did you mean, Lieutenant, when you said ’twould be more awkward than I knew to return the other chess piece to the jeweller?”
“Burned up,” said Morris succinctly.
“Good heavens! Mr. Shumaker was b-burned?”
Morris nodded. “With his shop.”
She gave a gasp, and sat down in the chair. “Oh, poor man! How dreadful! And he was such a kind little person!”
“Naomi,” said Rossiter thoughtfully. “While you were at the Dowling Soiree you saw a chess piece similar to the one your father had lost. Did you mention that to anyone?”
“No. And in point of fact, it was not at all similar.”
“But, I thought you said—”
“I said ’twas the same, or almost the same, as the piece I had lost. But, you see the piece I lost was—”
“Was not your Papa’s. Of course. My apologies for being so dense.”
“I was dense also,” she said, smiling at him. “I should have realized ’twas not a chessman at all.”
“Castle?” enquired Morris.
“No. I mean ’twas something else. Not part of my father’s chess set.”
