Enduring Love (26 page)

“There’s nothing much to be done except to speak with more people and to listen,” Lydia said. “Perhaps we’ll discover something ’bout our Mr. Douglas at dinner.”

“I’ll not be there,” Dalton said. “I’ve been invited to dine with a friend.” A blush rose up from his neck and into his cheeks.

“Why, Dalton, yer blushing. Is this a special friend?”

He pressed his lips tightly together. “A lady friend of mine.”

“I had no idea.” Lydia clapped her hands together.

Dalton’s blush deepened. “I’d best be on my way.”

Hannah walked to the door, opened it, and peeked out. “No one’s about.” She opened the door wider. “We’ll see you at breakfast, then.”

“Tomorrow.” He stepped outside, and Hannah closed the door behind him.

“How ’bout that, eh? Dalton has a lady friend.” Lydia smiled.

“He’s a good man. Whoever she is, she’s lucky to have him.” “True.” Lydia turned to the armoire. “We’d best get dressed for dinner. Perhaps tonight we’ll learn more ’bout Mr. Douglas and Margaret.”

Just as the evening meal ended, Weston Douglas swaggered into the dining room. “Good evening to ye.” His words slid into each other, mangling the language. “Hope ye all had a fine day.” He smiled and grabbed the back of a chair.

He’s besotted!
Hannah thought.

Weston moved around to the front of the chair and dropped into it. “Sorry I’m late. Just out with friends.” He smirked. “Cards. Always been a good player.” His smile slid sideways up his face and then turned into a sneer. “One fellow tried to cheat me.” His blue eyes looked cold.

Hannah didn’t much like Weston. Evidently neither did the elderly couple, the Booths. They excused themselves and left the room.

Weston called after them, “Don’t leave on my account. I’ll behave myself.” He snickered. “Oh well.” Leaning on the table, he looked at Elen. “Seems I’m in need of a meal.”

“It would seem,” Elen said in a disgusted tone. “Ye should have had something before ye started downing the grog.”

Ignoring the comment, he looked straight at Hannah, his dark eyes penetrating. “Do I know you?”

“Yes. We met briefly this morning.” Hannah felt her heart flutter. He couldn’t possibly know her, could he?

“Ah yes. You’re the quiet one with the dark eyes. Lovely eyes, I might add.”

“Here ye go. Ye’ll need this.” Elen set a bowl of stew in front of Weston and then poured him a cup of coffee. “Ye should stay away from the spirits.”

“Right you are. I lost a goodly amount of money. It matters not. Soon I’ll have more than I can spend, me and my lovely lady.”

“Oh, are you married?” Lydia asked.

Hannah had to admire Lydia’s aplomb. Nothing seemed to unsettle her.

“No. But I’ve a fine lady who loves me. And she’ll be coming into a goodly amount of money soon.”

Alarm pulsed through Hannah. Was his lady Margaret? “Have you a business venture in the works, Mr. Douglas?”

He set his gaze on Hannah, grinned devilishly, and then leaned toward her, saying in a hushed tone, “Ah yes, I do at that. Well, Margaret and I do.”

The name Margaret exploded in Hannah’s mind.

“Her husband, poor soul, will soon be meeting his Maker. When he’s gone, she inherits a fortune.”

Hannah felt the room sway.
He can’t be speaking of John!
“Is her husband ill?” she asked.

“The good Lord will be taking him home soon. But then one man’s loss is another’s gain, eh?” The sloppy grin returned. “Margaret and I have plans, but the first thing we’ll do is sail back to London. I’ll be glad to leave this vermin-infested hole.” He swayed even though he was sitting. His eyes closed and his head dropped against the back of the chair. He didn’t move.

“He’s passed out,” Lydia said.

Elen shook her head with disdain. “Not the first time. I’ll have to get someone to carry him to his bed.” She walked through the kitchen door.

“What do you think he was talking about?” Hannah asked, her throat tight with dread.

“Does John possess a fortune?”

“No. Not at all. You know that.” Hannah looked at Weston. “Do you think he was talking about the quinsy? Perhaps he thinks John is still sick.”

“That makes no sense. We’d best tell John ’bout this straightaway. Something’s not right.”

“I’ll tell him, but not yet. I have to know more.”

“What do ye have in mind?”

Hannah thought. She must find out what Margaret and Douglas’s scheme was. “Perhaps he has something that would shed light on what they have planned and why. We could search his room.” Hannah said it even before the idea had fully taken hold, but already she knew that’s exactly what they must do.

19

Hannah paced between the window and the settee where Lydia sat looking relaxed. Dalton stood just outside the parlor door, appearing casual and unruffled. Hannah wondered how either of them could remain composed with so much at stake.

“Hannah, sit down,” Lydia said. “Ye’ll wear a ditch in the floor.” She patted the cushion beside her.

“I can’t sit.” She looked from Lydia to Dalton. “I don’t know how the two of you can remain so calm.”

“I’m not at all, really,” Lydia said. “I’d say expectation would better fit what I’m feeling. If Margaret has been up to no good, it’s ’bout time she was found out. I’ll be glad to expose the truth.”

Dalton rested a hand on the doorframe. “The more tenuous a situation, the more tranquil I become . . . on the outside.” He grinned. “Used to drive my sister to distraction.”

Hannah returned to the window and gazed out. “I’m not sure I feel right about this. If we’re caught breaking into someone else’s room—”

“We’re not breaking in. We’ll just be . . . visiting and having a look ’round. And besides, it was yer idea.”

Hannah turned to Lydia. “And perhaps it’s not a good one. If we’re caught, we could end up back in gaol.”

Steps sounded on the stairs, and Dalton clasped his hands behind his back and moved into the entryway. “Good day,” he said casually.

“Fine day it is too.” Weston Douglas moved to the parlor door and glanced inside. “Top of the morning to you, ladies.” His eyes seemed to graze as they took in Hannah and Lydia. Hannah managed to smile and nod.

Lydia stood. “It’s a grand day,” she said with enthusiasm, her smile bright.

I’d have no idea she was up to something,
Hannah thought, not sure she ought to be proud of Lydia or disappointed in her.

Weston tipped his hat. “Well, I’m off. I’ve a busy day ahead.”

“We’ll look for you at dinner,” Lydia said as Weston walked to the door and stepped outside, seemingly oblivious to her and their encounter.

Lydia joined Hannah at the window, and the two watched him stroll down the street toward the pub. “Bit early to be imbibing. But just as well. His vice gives us better opportunity for searching his room.” Lydia took Hannah’s arm and started across the room.

“Lydia, I think it best if you stay,” Dalton said almost apologetically.

“Me?” She stopped and stared at him.

“I know you’ve been waiting for this, but I ought to accompany Hannah. And if he were to return unexpectedly, you’re better suited to distract him. I think it best that I be the one with Hannah, just in case he comes back without warning.”

Lydia released Hannah and slapped her hands to her sides. “I thought it was settled. Me and Hannah were to do the investigating.” Her mouth turned into a pout. “I was counting on it.”

“No. It’s better if I go.” Dalton’s tone was firm.

“I’m plenty strong enough to stand up to him.”

“Lydia, hush,” Hannah said. “Someone will hear. And Dalton’s right. You’ve no business confronting someone in your condition. And if Douglas comes back, you’ll do wonderfully well at stalling him.” She grinned. “In fact, it seems you’ve a talent for deception.”

“I’m not sure I like that.” A smiled played at Lydia’s lips. “I so wanted to go. Why don’t ye stay, Hannah? Ye’ll do fine at distracting him if need be.”

“If Douglas were to return, I’d not be able to think of a thing to say.” She moved toward the door. “And John’s my husband . . . I mean, he was. I should go.”

Lydia folded her arms over her chest and frowned. “All right. But I’m not pleased with this, I want ye to know.”

“Oh, we know,” Hannah said with a small shake of the head. She glanced into the dining room to see if anyone was about. “It’s time,” she whispered to Dalton and led the way up the staircase to the second floor and down the hallway. Just as she and Dalton reached Weston’s room, a woman stepped into the corridor.

Hannah stood with her back to the wall and looked up at Dalton, trying to think of something to say to him that sounded conversational. “Perhaps it would be a good idea to visit the wharf,” she said. “They’ve a good selection of fresh fish.”

Momentarily Dalton seemed taken aback but quickly recovered and said, “A fine idea.”

The woman smiled as she passed and moved to a room at the end of the hall where she stopped and opened the door, disappearing inside.

Hannah’s heart thumped hard in her chest. She took a deep breath, checked the corridor again, and then turned and tried the door. It opened. She stepped inside with Dalton close behind.

The room stank of spirits and cigar smoke. The bed was unmade, and the only chair was nearly hidden beneath a pile of clothing. There was a desk cluttered with books and papers. Hannah moved to the window and gazed out, fearing she’d see Douglas striding up the street toward the boardinghouse. There was no sign of him.

She turned and faced the room. “He’s not one for tidiness, is he?”

“I’d say not.” Dalton moved to the bureau and opened the top drawer and rifled through its contents.

Hannah watched.

He looked up at her. “You’d best get to it.”

“Right.” Hannah decided the desk was the best place to begin. She wasn’t even sure what she was looking for as she searched through a pile of papers, but hoped she’d know what it was when she found it.

Dalton pushed the top drawer closed and opened the next while Hannah thumbed through another stack of papers. “He’s collected an awful lot of stuff,” she said as she searched an assortment of correspondence, ink, a pen and a . . . key. She picked it up and examined it. “Could this be anything?”

“What?” Dalton crossed to Hannah. Taking the key, he examined it. “Too small for a door.” He glanced around the room.

“What else could it unlock?” Hannah’s eyes went to the armoire. With a pulse of excitement, she strode across the room and opened the cabinet, going through hanging shirts. Nothing. She stood on tiptoe and felt the edge of an upper shelf.

“Here, let me have a go.” Dalton swept a hand across the top shelf, but found only a hat and gloves.

“It must fit something here.” Hannah opened a drawer and her heart quickened. There, amidst socks and underclothes, sat a wooden box. She lifted it out and tried to open the lid. It was locked.

Dalton’s eyes lit up. “So it needs a key, does it?”

Hannah carried it to the desk.

Dalton pushed the key into the lock and turned. Opening the lid, he smiled at Hannah, then looked at the contents, taking out a stack of letters.

“There’s quite a lot there. It will take some time to read them all. He could come back and discover us. How would we ever explain reading his personal mail?”

“We’ve no justification for our presence here, no matter what he might find us doing.” Dalton moved to the window and looked out. “I don’t see him. He’ll probably be hours, yet. Most likely in the midst of a game of cards and half inebriated already.”

“Can you go down and make certain he’s not back?” Hannah carried some of the letters to the desk and sat in the chair. “I’ll start reading.”

“If I don’t return right away, then I’m probably engaged in a conversation with the chap. If so, put the box and letters back and leave.” He opened the door, peered out, and stepped into the hallway.

Hannah picked up an envelope. It was postmarked from Margaret Bradshaw. Hands trembling, she opened it and pulled out a letter. It began with “My dearest Weston.” Anger smoldered in Hannah.

Margaret talked about John, life on the farm, and how she hoped all went well. As Hannah read, old wounds felt as if they’d been opened and rubbed raw. She stuffed the letter back into the envelope and went on to the next. There was nothing that would create suspicion.

The door opened and Hannah’s heart shot into her throat. She pressed the letter against her chest. It was Dalton. “Oh! You frightened me.”

“Sorry.” He closed the door. “There’s no sign of him. But we’d best hurry. Have you found anything?”

“Just that Margaret was corresponding with Mr. Douglas.” She handed him a stack of letters and then opened another one with the address in Margaret’s handwriting. This time as she read, her interest piqued. She quickly scanned the letter. “Listen to this,” she said and read, “
It won’t be long now and
we’ll be on our way to London. I long for your arms and for the
day we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Hannah stopped reading, her ire flaring. “How dare she!” She looked at Dalton. “They
are
lovers. And she’s planning to leave John! After everything he’s done for her and all she’s put us through she has no intention of staying.”