“I’m not his jailor, Laura. He has time off. If he wishes to spend it purchasing something or meeting a friend, it’s fine with me, as long as the standard of his work meets with my approval. And it always does.”
“I think you should ask him where he was.”
“After all this time? He gave his explanation at the inquest. And he was seen in the village, returning to the house later to perform his duties.”
“So, he could have…”
“So could I, for that matter,” he said sharply. “Have you ever thought of that?”
“Not for a second. Don’t be ridiculous, Nathaniel.”
He stared down at her, his eyes hard. “You’ve heard the rumors.” A muscle twitched at the corner of his mouth. “You could hardly have avoided them. There are some who still suspect me even now.”
“But I am not one of them!”
“I can’t blame them,” he said in a grimtone.
Fear scudded through her. “What do you mean?”
He glanced away. “It was common knowledge Amanda and I weren’t happy. We quarreled often. We fought on that day. She said the baby wasn’t mine. I was eaten up with jealousy when she rushed out of the house. I should have gone after her.”
He shook his head. “The Bible says a man’s pride shall bring him low. I expected Amanda to come straight back, apologize for telling such a dreadful lie, but in my heart I knew it was true. But she was pregnant and still deserving of my protection. I am not my father, and I refused to act like him. Amanda would have been disgraced as my mother was. Mallory would not have cared a damn for her. I went after her, but I couldn’t find her. I never saw her again.” He raised his troubled gaze to Laura. “I expected her to be with Cilla; they were good friends. She’d been there but disappeared some hours later…” His voice faltered. “Did she go to Mallory? Quarrel with him? Did he kill her, or had she gotten involved in the smuggling and they did away with her?” He rubbed his eyes, and when he dropped his hands, his gaze swung away from hers. “I’ll never know the answer to that now.”
Laura grasped the lapel of his jacket and forced him to look at her. “I know you would never have been deliberately cruel, Nathaniel.”
“I wish I’d been more patient with her.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Her taunts brought out the worst in me. She was wild, restless, preferred city life and was never happy here. It was expedient to blame Mallory, I suppose. But if I’d been the kind of husband she wanted…”
“We will find out the truth.” She squeezed his arm, aware it was unlikely after all this time. They had reached the lane and the first of the stone cottages. She stopped at the gate. “This was Mallory’s cottage, wasn’t it? Can we go inside?”
Nathaniel stared at her. “It’s empty. I’m about to have it fixed up for Cadan and his family.”
“It isn’t empty of furniture. I’ve seen inside. Come and look.” They walked up the weed-strewn path. A pile of dead leaves gathered at the front door. The wooden lintel was swollen with damp, and the door creaked as Nathaniel forced itopen.
“This needs some carpentry. There’s a lot to do to make it habitable.”
The narrow hall smelled rank with mold, and cobwebs swung from the ceiling in the draft. Covered in brown cloth, the sofa was still in the tiny parlor. The acrid odor of ashes in the fireplace mingled with the smell of candle smoke. A candlestick sat on the mantel, a matchbox besideit.
Nathaniel squatted before the fire. He stirred the ashes with a stick. “This fire’s been recently lit.”
Laura rested her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, I can smell it.” She wrinkled her nose. “And something else.” She turned away with a moue of distaste. “Let’s see upstairs.”
The low-ceilinged bedchamber was musty, the support beams thick with dust. Logs and kindling were stacked in the fireplace. Two wine glasses perched on a small table by the bed. The bed was made up with sheets, a blanket and twopillows.
“This is from the abbey,” Laura said. “The linens don’t appear to be damp. They haven’t been on the bed very long. Someone has slept here recently, certainly since Mallory left.”
Nathaniel glanced distastefully at the bed. “That pungent odor is the smell of sex. Lovers have used this room.”
“This cottage has been used for assignations,” Laurasaid.
“So it would seem.”
“It would have to be the staff.”
He took her arm. “Let’s go. The place unnerves me.”
Laura smiled. “You don’t approve of your servants enjoying a romantic tryst?”
“What they do on their own time is entirely their business.” He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her along with him. “But not here. We must uphold certain standards. Especially now.”
