He nuzzled her head, making her scalp tingle. She wondered if he would do more than that. She would not mind.
“My brother will arrive today, I think,” he said.
“I should return to my house.”
“I do not want you there alone. Better if Ives stays at an inn in the village.”
“If he knows I am staying here, there seems little point in that.” Other than Ives, only Harold would know, however. Gareth had given Erasmus things to do elsewhere, so he would not be on the property.
“He will be more comfortable in the village. This house is too spare for him.” He nuzzled again. “Eva, I think I know where the treasure is.”
She looked up, angling her head so she could see his face. “You do?” She threw her arms around him and squeezed hard in her excitement. “Where? Can we get our hands on it quickly?”
“Eva, you are not going to like it. I put off telling you yesterday, but I am convinced I am right.”
His tone, too kind, too gentle, made her joy disappear. “Tell me. I may not like it, but I pray you are correct.”
He told her a peculiar story of lords packing up art and sending it north, and of that art disappearing at some time before they went to retrieve it after the war.
“The pictures in my attic are part of it. Perhaps a third.”
“This was the art you searched for?”
“Yes. The question is how it got up there. For now, that is the only question, but of course another is—where is the rest?”
“Do you fear someone will think you took it? And put some of it here?”
“That is always a danger. I did not, of course. I think I know who did.” He turned her on her back, and rose up on his arm to look down at her. “A treasure, Eva. Those pictures are worth thousands. When your house was invaded, they pulled out steps to see the space underneath. They pried off wallboards, to see if anything lay behind. Those men did not seek something small, like jewels. Or money. They went to the attics, your attics, because they did not guess that what they sought was in mine instead.”
She followed his thinking. “You think the treasure that will save my sister is right above us now. It is the pictures.”
“Yes.”
“I wish you were right, but I do not think you are. If you are correct, that means my brother was involved and put them there. He was not a thief.”
He caressed her face. “It may have been a prank gone awry. He may have disapproved, and gotten shot while trying to stopthem, then could think of no way to return what he had without implicating himself.”
She glared up at him. “You spent all of yesterday working out those excuses, didn’t you? I don’t think you believe any of that. Perhaps you should share what you do believe.”
He fell on his back beside her. She was glad. She did not want to look at him now.
“I think your brother and some friends learned where the pictures were stored. I think they found a way in, and moved them to another place, to wait until the war ended and they could be sold abroad. I think your brother got impatient due to his financial state and took what is in the attic and put it here because no one lived here anymore. He took more than his fair share. Either then, or when they found out, I think he was shot, by either a guard or an accomplice. Probably the latter.”
And because of his wound, he could not sell anything. The pictures just sat there, a half a mile away.
“Are you going to tell your brother this story?”
“Yes.”
She sat up and turned so her back faced him. She reached for her garments. “You will impugn my brother’s good name without any proof that the treasure they seek are these paintings. You will risk my sister to this bizarre theory.”
She slid off the bed to go dress somewhere else. His grip on her arm stopped her. “Remember how your paintings were ruined, Eva? The views you had painted years ago? How they had been wiped with turpentine? Someone checked to make sure you had not painted over some of these pictures and hidden them in plain sight.”
“That was just criminals being destructive.”
“A lot of trouble for mere destruction. A knife would have been faster and more satisfying.”
“Nigel died with nothing left but his good name. You are wrong about him. I pray your brother explains the error of your thinking to you, since you will not listen to me.” She jerked her arm loose. Clutching her clothes, she strode out to find another chamber in which to be away from him.
