When he finished, silence hung over the room, punctuated by the reassuring crackle of the fire. O’Roarke sat very still, his gaze intent. Roth sucked in his breath and released it in a long sigh. His shoulders slumped against the chair back.
“There’s no way to prove any of it, of course,” Charles said. “But it’s the only way I can make sense of my brother’s actions.”
Roth nodded and stared down at his notebook. He smoothed his fingers over the worn brown leather of the cover. He had made no notes during the story. “I asked Velasquez about the ring this morning. I said we had reason to suspect it had been in his cousin Kitty’s possession.”
“And?” Charles said.
“He was surprised. But not as surprised as I would have expected. He said his great-grandfather must have decided the ring was more a curse than a blessing. The great-grandfather’s two sons were fighting over it, and there was a history of duels and even murder in the Carevalo family to gain possession of it.”
“Not to mention its role in the Crusades,” Melanie murmured.
“Quite,” Roth said. “Velasquez said his great-grandfather must have decided the family would be better off if the ring disappeared, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy it. So he gave it to his daughter, Kitty Ashford’s grandmother, and charged her to watch over it but to tell no one she had it.”
“And she gave it to her daughter, Kitty’s mother,” Charles said. “I suspect Kitty’s mother gave it to her when Kitty married or when she turned twenty-one or perhaps on the mother’s deathbed. I remember Kitty saying that it was when her mother died that she understood just how much she owed to her family.”
Roth leaned back in his chair, frowning. “I can see how that could have gone on for years. Generations. But if the ring could have meant what you say to the war—”
“Politics mattered a lot less to Kit than family loyalties,” Charles said. “She told me once that a vow to a blood relative came before all else. If she’d promised her mother to keep the ring for”—his voice went unexpectedly tight; Melanie’s fingers tightened round his own—“for her daughter, she wouldn’t have gone back on her word.”
Roth shook his head, as though he would never understand the inner workings of such a code. “If this whole story comes out, it can only tarnish your brother’s memory and hurt his widow and the rest of your family. Not to mention embarrassing the army and government.”
“Very true,” Charles said.
Roth looked up at him. “There was a lot of confusion last night. Who’s to say the exact sequence of events? The only people who were actually present at the shooting were you and Mrs. Fraser and the boy and Evans.”
“Evans was dead.”
“Was he? Or did that happen later?” Roth spun his pencil between his fingers. “Perhaps Evans had a gun.”
“Your men know otherwise,” Charles said.
Roth gave a half smile. “That won’t be a problem.”
Melanie pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “From the angle of the shot that killed Edgar it’s plain it didn’t come from the roof.”
“I think we can account for that.” Roth turned his head. “Mr. O’Roarke? Do you have any objections?”
“Certainly not. I saw none of it, after all.”
“Good.” Roth inclined his head. “What do you mean to do with the ring?”
Charles looked at O’Roarke. “I assume I can count on you to convey it to Carevalo’s heir?”
“Who is his heir?” Roth asked.
O’Roarke smiled for the first time since Charles and Melanie had come into the room. “A first cousin. Not as active as Carevalo, but with similar political ideals. And a much less volatile personality.”
Roth returned the smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. O’Roarke. It seems neither Spain’s government nor our own need be troubled with the ring’s discovery.” He sat forward in his chair as though to rise, then tapped his pencil against his notebook. “Oh, there is one more thing. Meg Simmons gave me this.” He drew a sealed paper out of his coat. “Apparently Carevalo left it with her to give to Bow Street if anything happened to him.”
It was as though the fire had been extinguished and the lamps turned down. Charles felt Melanie go still beside him. “How interesting,” he said. The red seal on the letter appeared unbroken. He stared for a moment at the impression of the Carevalo crest. “A confession?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t read it.” Roth leaned forward in his chair, the letter dangling from his fingertips. His gaze moved from Charles to Melanie to O’Roarke. “I can’t imagine what a twisted mind like Carevalo’s could have to say that’s worth my time. Perhaps you have more use for the letter than I would.” He got to his feet, held out the letter, and placed it in Melanie’s hand.
The vellum trembled between her fingers. She looked down at it, then raised her gaze to Roth. “Thank you, Mr. Roth.” She drew a breath. She was nearer to tears than most people could have guessed. “Thank you for everything.”
Roth looked into her eyes. Charles thought perhaps he could tell how fragile her control was. “It’s been a pleasure, Mrs. Fraser. Though I fear this was not one of my more brilliant cases. I did little more than follow your lead and your husband’s.” He coughed and glanced at the mantel clock. “I’d best be on my way. I have to meet with the chief magistrate about this Velasquez business.”
Melanie and Charles walked to the door with him. They both shook his hand. “I hope you will dine with us one day soon, Mr. Roth,” Melanie said. “And bring your sister. And perhaps your sons could visit Colin and Jessica.”
Roth looked down into her eyes, a friend addressing a friend. “I’d like that, Mrs. Fraser. We all would.”
The door closed behind him. Melanie leaned against the door panels and put her hand to her mouth. Hysterical laughter burst between her fingers. “Dear God, what have I done to deserve such generosity?”
“Don’t question it,
Charles crossed the room and took the letter. He glanced down at it for a moment, then looked at Melanie. At her nod, he held the letter to the fire.
He felt O’Roarke’s gaze upon him. “I’m sorry about your brother, Charles. That can’t have been easy.”
“None of this has been easy on any of us.” Charles dropped the burning missive into the flames.
“No. But some things are more easily mended than others.” O’Roarke’s gaze was understanding without being intrusive. “I didn’t know Edgar well, even as a boy. But—He was your brother. And he was Elizabeth’s son.”
Charles said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
O’Roarke regarded Charles in silence for a moment. “Do you think that was why Captain Fraser told you the truth of your parentage last night? To distract you?”
“I suspect so.” Charles watched the flames lick at the cream-colored paper. “We’d just found Helen Trevennen’s body. He was probably desperate for anything to buy himself time.”
O’Roarke nodded. “I must confess, I’m not entirely sorry for it.”
Charles looked into the gray eyes of the man who was his father. Who had lied to him and used him but perhaps had had more of an impact on him than Charles had ever guessed. Certainly far more than Kenneth Fraser had had. “You gave me a copy of
O’Roarke returned his gaze. “I’ve read your speeches, Charles. That’s thanks enough.” He turned, a little too quickly perhaps, and picked up his gloves from the sofa table. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your children. I’ll see myself out.”
Melanie was still standing by the door. She hesitated, then went to O’Roarke and pressed his hand. “Thank you, Raoul. We wouldn’t have got him back without you.”
O’Roarke looked down at her. “It was, to put it mildly, the least I could do.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips with a formality that could not be mistaken for flirtation. “Take care of yourself,
Charles crushed the ashes of Carevalo’s letter with the poker, then crossed the room to stand beside his father. He took out his watch chain, unhooked the Carevalo Ring from it, and held it out to O’Roarke. “I trust you’ll do what’s best with it, O’Roarke.”
