Suddenly Noelle remembered a conversation she had overheard between Simon and Quinn during those last days in London. "You're the man who was suspected of setting fire to the warehouse, aren't you?"
"Don't know nothin' about no fire." He grinned unpleasantly as he said it, and Noelle decided that he was lying.
"Let go of my horse, Mr. Baker," she snapped. "This instant!'"
His small eyes raked over her. "Tell me, little lady," he jeered. "You ever get lonesome at night? I hear between the shipyard and Kate Malloy's, your high-and-mighty husband don't spend a lot of time at home."
Noelle lifted her riding crop and slashed it down across the fist that held the bridle. Baker gave a startled yelp of pain, but to her dismay, did not release his grip. "You little bitch," he snarled, jerking the crop from her with his free hand. "You're gonna pay for that."
"No, Baker. You're the one who's going to pay."
In their struggle, neither of them had heard Quinn approaching on Pathkiller from the other side of the bend. Baker stared at the pistol trained at his heart. Slowly he released his grip on Noelle's mount.
"Put that gun away, Copeland. I ain't done nothin'."
Quinn did not take his eyes off Baker. "You're wrong, Luke. I sent one of my men for the sheriff as soon as I heard you'd been seen lurking around the yard. You're going to be spending some time in jail."
Baker licked his lips nervously. "What for?"
"Trying to burn down my shipyard last year," Quinn scoffed contemptuously. "What happened? You couldn't get to me so you went after the shipyard instead?"
"You're bluffing," Baker sneered. "I wasn't anywhere near that shipyard. And I got witnesses to prove it."
"I've seen your friends. Baker, and I don't think their word will count much with a jury. Besides, I've got my own witnesses. Ned McLoughlin and Carl Bremer saw you that night."
Baker stared impotently at the gun trained so unwaveringly upon him. "You're lying! There weren't any witnesses to that fire."
"Oh, but there were. We knew you'd show up again as soon as you heard I was back from England. Ned and Carl have just been biding their time, waiting to tell their stories to the judge." Noelle saw fear flickering in Baker's eyes. "You're not a stupid man, Baker," Quinn said, "but you've let your hatred for me ruin your judgment. You should have stayed away."
Baker could no longer contain his rage. "You son of a bitch!" he screamed, drops of spittle collecting in the corners of his mouth. "Stay away? After you killed my brother?"
"Your brother attacked an unarmed man."
"He was an Injun!" Baker spat. "You killed a white man for an Injun!"
Quinn's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Noelle saw his muscles tense. Later she wondered what would have happened if the sheriff had not ridden up at that moment with some of the men from the shipyard.
After they had taken Baker away, Quinn turned to her. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "Baker was the man I saw near the smokehouse."
Quinn dismounted and picked up her riding crop from the road. "I suspected it was him, but I wasn't sure. Until today, nobody else had seen him. Then, right after you left the yard, one of the men told me somebody thought they'd spotted him near the gate." He rested his hand on the back of her saddle and handed the crop to her. "You should have waited for the groom to ride back with you, Noelle. I've told you I don't want you riding alone around here."
"Don't try to put a leash on me, Quinn Copeland," she flared. "I can take care of myself. I had my knife in my boot and was just waiting for the chance to use it." Without waiting for a response, she dug her heels into Chestnut's flanks and galloped off down the road.
Chapter Thirty-two
The next afternoon, Julian Lester's wife, Emily, came to call. In appearance, she was much like her husband, with the same soft brown hair and hazel eyes. As Noelle led her through the completed rooms she found herself warming to her as quickly as she had to Julian.
"You've done so much here," Emily marveled as they returned to the drawing room. "Televea is going to be even more beautiful than it was when I was a child."
"I didn't realize you'd lived here so long, Emily."
"Oh, my, yes. At Darcy Hall, not a mile away. Goodness, I spent almost as much time at Televea as I did there. Of course, we all did. We were drawn here like bear cubs to honey."
"Why was that?" Noelle asked, trying to imagine this house full of children.
"Because of Amanda. We all loved her."
Although Noelle had never heard her name, she knew Emily must be referring to Quinn's mother. "Tell me about her. Quinn speaks so little of his childhood."
"Oh, Noelle, she was something, 'deed she was. We all had secret guilty dreams about our parents disappearing. Not dying, mind you." Emily laughed. "We were too civilized for that. Just mysteriously disappearing for a while so we could come to live at Televea.
"Our mothers all called her 'Poor Amanda' because her servants took advantage of her, and she couldn't keep house. They'd give her their recipes for furniture polish or tell her how to get the muddy tracks off the stairway carpet. She'd just laugh and tell them she was too busy playing with her son and keeping her husband happy to have time for such foolishness. Oh, my, how they used to sigh over her. But they loved her, too. She'd delivered most of their babies."
"What did she look like?"
"There's a painting of her somewhere. I suppose Simon took it down after she died. She wasn't beautiful, not like you are. But she was striking. Strong features. Dark hair that she always wore in a sort of braided coronet on her head and, ob, my, you never saw a woman who cared less about clothes. Why, she'd take us into the woods, wearing a new dress, and before you'd know it, she'd be dragging her hem in the mud at the riverbank while she showed us how to catch fish without poles. Simon used to complain that he had to build an extra ship every year just to replace the clothes she ruined. He'd always laugh when he said it, though, and we knew he didn't really mind."
Emily smiled, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. "We all envied Quinn so much. They treated him differently than our own parents treated us. They were always touching him, I remember. Every time he walked by, one of them would rumple his hair or hug him or sometimes just pat his arm. I remember one day Simon kissed him on the top of his head in front of the other boys. How they all teased him! But he only laughed and said that if they didn't mind themselves, he'd tell Simon to kiss them, too."
Emily sighed. "Of course, it all changed after she died."
"How did it happen?"
"Malaria. It was real bad that summer. What a sad time that was. Nothing ever stays the same, I guess."
She gave a small embarrassed laugh. "Goodness me, Noelle, I sound just like Julian's Aunt Cornelia with my reminiscing. He says I've been acting strangely ever since I discovered I was in the family way." There was pride in her voice as she confided that after seven years of marriage, she and Julian were finally expecting a child in the summer.
"I hope it doesn't take so long for you and Quinn. It would be nice to have our babies close together."
Noelle smiled noncommittally, glad now that she had not shown Emily the upstairs of the house. Somehow, she doubted that her new friend would understand why she and Quinn were sleeping in separate bedrooms.
After Emily had gone, Noelle poured herself a cup of tea and wandered distractedly into her sitting room, her footsteps echoing on the bare floor. She ambled over to the front window and gazed thoughtfully out. She didn't see the hedges that were now clipped back from the walk or the brick driveway that curved so gracefully up to the front of the house and no longer had weeds growing between its cracks. All she saw was Amanda Copeland.
How vivid Emily had made her. Was that why, now, she seemed so close? Did she know, even from her grave, what a hard, driven man her son had become, hating the father he had once loved, happy only with his ships? Was she trying to reach out to Noelle? Tell her to help her son?