the ecru a molten orange. “Why do you think Miss Trevennen left London just after she got Jennings’s letter and the ring?” He looked up at Melanie with the glint of a chess player puzzling over a new gambit. “Coincidence?”
“I doubt it.” Melanie unfastened her heavy earrings and rubbed her earlobes. The jerky shimmer of the diamonds betrayed her shaking fingers. “I suspect she was blackmailing someone.”
Charles replaced the poker and gave her a sharp look.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of it, darling,” she said.
“No, it occurred to me during our talk with Susan Trevennen.” He rested his arm on the mantel. His hand closed on the marble, so hard that he felt the imprint of the carved oak leaves on his palm. “I’d have said something, but—”
“We got distracted.”
“Here now.” Edgar set down his teacup with a clatter. “Mind telling us mere mortals why this blackmail business is so obvious?”
Melanie plucked at the spangled fabric of her scarf. “I wouldn’t call it obvious. But if you think about it…She told Violet Goddard and Jemmy Moore that her fortune had been made but she’d be in danger if anyone knew where she was. That would make sense if she was blackmailing someone but was afraid of what might happen to her if that person found her.”
“Well, yes—I suppose so.” Edgar shook his head. “Couldn’t Moore’s first idea be right? That she was going off with a man—perhaps even eloping—and wanted to cut herself off from her past?”
“Possibly.” Charles took a turn about the room, but movement couldn’t hold at bay the images that kept tugging at his mind, images of his son under a stranger’s knife. Had Colin screamed? He was a brave lad, but —“That doesn’t explain why she ran off right after Jennings’s death. If she’d found a wealthy lover or potential husband, I can’t see her letting Jennings stand in her way.”
He stopped and stared down at the onyx and alabaster of the chess set. A single pawn stood between the white king and checkmate. His fingers clenched with the impulse to sweep the pieces onto the carpet. The screams of men suffering amputations in field hospitals echoed in his head. Had they drugged Colin, tied him—“The night she received Jennings’s letter she told Violet Goddard that her fortune had been made. The next day she disappeared from the face of London. As Roth pointed out, it’s a stretch for the timing to be coincidence.”
Roth sat forward in his chair. “So the blackmail was based on something in Lieutenant Jennings’s letter? I admit it’s by far the neatest explanation. Any idea what that something might be?”
“None.” Charles moved behind the sofa and drummed his fingers on the coffee-colored velvet.
“A military scandal?” Melanie said. “Was there anything Jennings was involved in or might have known about? You knew him a bit, didn’t you, Edgar?”
“We were nodding acquaintances. I wish—There were scandals enough among the officers. Duels that had to be hushed up. Liaisons with Spanish and Portuguese women.” Edgar avoided so much as a flicker of a glance at Charles as he said this last. “Jennings could have learned someone’s secrets, but I know of nothing definite.”
Roth slumped back in his chair and frowned up at the heavily molded ribs of the ceiling. “If someone’s been paying her to keep this secret for seven years, it must be something fairly explosive. She’d need some sort of proof. Love letters? Possible, I suppose.”
“Perhaps Jennings stumbled upon a procurement fraud,” Melanie said, in the crisp voice she used when she was trying desperately to focus her mind. “There was a shocking amount of that sort of thing going on. Suppose Jennings found some incriminating papers?”
“Yes.” Roth blew the steam from his cup. “Perhaps I’m a cynic, but I find it easier to imagine a man paying money for seven years to cover up fraud than to cover up a love affair.” He sipped the tea. “Or suppose Jennings had uncovered proof that someone was involved in espionage?”
He said this last casually. Charles thought he meant it casually. Probably. Melanie did not react with so much as the tremor of a finger.
“Fraud and espionage are both possibilities.” Charles perched on the arm of the sofa beside his wife. “Jennings could have stumbled upon all sorts of secrets—his game with the ring certainly proves he was devious and had an eye for the main chance.”
“Or suppose—” Melanie broke off and stared up at him. Her face had gone white. “My God, we’re sitting here speculating, while Colin—”
“We’re speculating so we can get him back,” Charles said. The words came out with a harsh rasp he hadn’t intended. He had a sudden impulse to fling his Sevres teacup into the fireplace, as though destroying something would ease the knot of frustration in his chest.
Roth’s gaze moved from Charles to Melanie, missing little. “Quite a pair, Jennings and Miss Trevennen. A gift for survival, though in the end it seems to have failed Jennings.” Roth stared at the chewed end of his pencil. “I stopped at Raoul O’Roarke’s hotel this afternoon, but he was out. You’re sure he can’t tell us more?”
“As sure as we can be,” Charles said.
“Because from what you’ve described, the ring would benefit his cause as much as Carevalo’s.” Roth doodled on the blank page before him. “You think he’d cavil at using a child where Carevalo would not?”
“I don’t know about that,” Charles said. “But he knew I’d break his neck this morning if he didn’t tell us the truth. More to the point, Carevalo would know it. He’d never have let O’Roarke meet us if O’Roarke had been able to betray him.”
“Sound reasoning.” Roth closed the notebook and looked up at Charles. His gaze was mild, pleasant, and as sharp as a knife. “So why did O’Roarke come to see you this morning so soon after you called on him?”
“My dear Roth, have you been having us followed?” Charles said.
“Hardly.” Roth smiled, but the sharpness didn’t leave his eyes. “I made some inquires about O’Roarke while I was at his hotel. One of the clerks heard him direct a hackney here an hour or so after you left the hotel this morning.”
“Yes, he did.” Melanie’s voice was the most normal it had been in the entire interview. “He wanted to assure us again that he would do whatever was in his power to help.”
Roth leaned forward, hands between his knees. “Mr. Fraser. Mrs. Fraser. It would be redundant to say that this is a serious matter. Carevalo has made sure we know that. I’ve seen enough today to realize that you love your son as much as any parents could and that you know full well the jeopardy he’s in. Is there anything you haven’t told me?”
“I say, Roth,” Edgar said, “that’s a damned—”
“It’s all right, Edgar. Roth’s just doing his job thoroughly.” Charles looked at Roth, aware of Melanie’s stillness beside him. “We’d have to be fools to hold anything back, Roth. Whatever else my wife and I are, neither of us is a fool.”
Roth regarded him for a moment. “No. You certainly aren’t that.” He got to his feet. “I won’t keep you. I know you’re eager to be on your way to Brighton. Thank you for the tea.”
At the door, he turned back, one hand resting against the polished panels. “I hope you realize how seriously I take this. No harm will come to your son if it is within my power to prevent it.” He inclined his head and left the room.
Edgar shook his head. “What the devil was that about?”
“Roth questions everything.” Charles got up from the sofa. “It’s what makes him a good investigator.”
“I suppose so. Still, to be questioning you, of all people—You
“As Charles said, we’d be fools not to.” Melanie picked up her gloves and earrings. “I’m going up to change.”
Charles accompanied her upstairs. Addison and Blanca were both waiting in the bedchamber, with valises packed, traveling clothes laid out, and a multitude of questions that they heroically did not voice. But explanations were the very least they deserved, so while they helped him and Melanie into traveling clothes, he and Melanie recounted the most recent events.
Addison and Blanca listened without comment until it came to Colin’s severed finger. At that, Addison went very white and dropped one of Charles’s top boots, and Blanca launched into a tirade in furious Spanish.
“What do you want us to do?” Addison said at last, gripping Blanca’s arm. “Make more inquiries about the ring?”
Charles shook his head. “I think we’ve done what we can. Go to Surrey and call on Mrs. Jennings. Find out if
