“So your interest in me was all a deception.”
Her voice carried no doubts. She’d not offered a question, but had made a statement. Her eyes dared him to denounce the truth, but he was as weary of lies between them as she was. Even as he thought it, he realized her coming to his arms last night could have been deception as well, an attempt to engage his heart so he would leave without either sister. He wanted to trust her motives, but the pain of her initial betrayal was still a hollow ache. He wondered if they’d ever completely trust each other-and if they didn’t, how could she believe that he’d truly given her his heart?
“In the beginning, yes,” he said. “My plan was to gain your favor, entice you into telling me your reasons for following Rockberry.” He wanted to touch her but didn’t dare. She suddenly appeared as fragile as a piece of hand-blown glass. “But I quickly fell under your spell.”
“So you think I bewitched you?”
“I’m beginning to understand that just as I was playing you, so you were playing me. We were both involved in separate, but equally as elaborate, swindles. I wanted to entice you into revealing your purpose; you wanted to seduce me into providing you with an alibi.”
“And last night?”
“It’s my hope that we were completely honest with each other. But I also recognize that we’ve both become quite skilled at duplicity, and it’s possible neither of us would recognize honesty if it bit us on the arse.”
She averted her gaze from his and stared out at the cliffs, at the sea. “The one time I’ve always been honest with you is when I’ve lain with you.”
Gently, he molded his hand around her chin and turned her head so he could see the deep blue of her eyes. “The only time I haven’t been honest with you was my reason for pursuing you.”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “We have a very rocky foundation beneath us.”
“But it is a foundation, Emma. Only we can determine what we want to build on top of it now.”
“Don’t be so fanciful, James. We can’t build anything. We’re at cross purposes. I’ve committed a crime. And you solve crimes.”
Damnation! How could he make her understand? They were going back and forth, covering ground that had already been plowed.
“Emma, not everything I do is within the law.”
“But you’re an inspector.”
“And sometimes I look the other way. I can’t on this matter because he’s a blasted lord, but I can assure you that if your sentence is not just, I will see you released from gaol. I will see that you have another life, but first, I would like very much to try to see that you return to this one.”
“You said you have influence.”
“I have a duke and an earl in my pocket.”
“Claybourne and Greystone.”
He nodded. “And Jack Dodger could purchase all of London if he wanted. They have power, Emma. I’m not above asking them to wield it.”
“And what of you, James Swindler?”
“My power is not as visible as theirs, but I have it. I’ve earned it. Now back to the silver. Do you remember exactly what it looked like?”
She nodded. “I believe so, yes. It very much resembled a choker, but strands of silver flowed from it. It was really quite lovely. Ironic that it symbolized something so ugly.”
“Can you help me draw it?”
She looked taken aback. “Whatever for?”
“Because swindles are my strong suit, and I believe one more is needed to put this matter to rest.”
Chapter 20
The main part was a web of tiny strands that fit snugly around a lady’s neck,” Emma said, sitting at the table in the kitchen and watching as James sketched what she described. She loved the way he looked when he concentrated. Whether it was at the paper or her, he gave each his full attention. She knew her actions in London had put him in an awkward position regarding his feelings for her and his responsibilities toward his duties. He cared about justice. He cared about her.
“And on either side of the part that rested at the hollow of a woman’s throat, several knotted strands dangled down,” Eleanor explained. “Their length increased as they moved toward the center until the one in the middle was long enough to dangle between-” Clearing her throat, she looked at Emma.
“I think I have the gist of what it dangled between,” James said quietly, and Emma smiled at the sight of his cheeks turning red. He didn’t often show discomfort-at least not with her. It was interesting to see this aspect of him, and to know that he did feel different toward Eleanor than he felt toward Emma. He was not as comfortable with her sister. “What else?”
“Reminded me of a collar more than a choker,” Eleanor said. “And the clasp was very difficult to maneuver. I should think one would need help getting it on and off.”
“We didn’t try it on,” Emma said. “We didn’t even want to touch it once we realized what it was.”
“So beautiful,” Eleanor whispered, “for something so hideous. How could he do that to her?”
James stopped drawing and studied Eleanor. Emma was fascinated watching him, as though she could actually see his mind working. “Did he say anything to you that night in his library?”
She could have kissed him for the wording he used, for not throwing at Eleanor that she’d killed him. Emma hadn’t caught Eleanor scrubbing her hands once today. With a little more time, perhaps her hands would heal.
Tears swam in Eleanor’s eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “He taunted me. Told me Elisabeth enjoyed it, wanted it, begged for it. I’ve never hated, despised, loathed anyone so much in my entire life. I wanted him to at least show remorse before he died.” She looked as though she might be ill. “He gloated.”
She began frantically rubbing her hands. Emma laid hers over them. “It’s all right, Eleanor. He can’t gloat any longer.”
“He was so horrid.” She turned her attention back to the sketch. “That’s a very good likeness of the necklace, don’t you think, Emma?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not really a necklace,” James said. “It’s as you indicated-a collar. I’ve seen one just like this before. On a woman we found murdered in Whitechapel.”
“Do you think she was part of the debauchery?” Emma asked.
He gave a brusque nod. “Based on discreet inquiries I’ve made, I believe there are secret societies that engage in rituals such as your sister described. I always assumed they were composed of eager players, and so I had no interest in pursuing them. But the one into which your sister was initiated seems to have taken matters into a darker direction.”
“Would they have eventually killed Elisabeth?”
“If they thought she was a threat to their discovery.”
“Is it possible”-Emma wasn’t certain she even wanted to think what she was thinking-“that they came here and killed her?”
James leaned back in the chair. “Possible, but unlikely. Because of what she wrote in her journal the night she died, I suspect”-she could see him struggling with the words-”she sought peace however she could find it.”
At that moment she thought she couldn’t have loved him more for not giving voice to what her sister had truly done: taken her own life, sinned against God. The family had told the clergy and the villagers that Elisabeth fell to her death. An accident. Even among themselves they’d been unable to face, to accept, what had truly happened.
“So. Where do we go from here, Inspector Swindler?” Eleanor asked. It was the first time either of them had addressed him as such, thus recognizing the authority he had over them. Emma’s stomach quivered with the implications. She found it difficult to draw in a breath, but she didn’t look away, waiting for his decision, his judgment.
“Rockberry harmed your sister but he wasn’t alone in doing it.”