Temptation Read online

  Artie didn’t seem to have any qualms about touching it. Picking it up, he held it to the light. “Name of Edweena?”

  “Yes,” Kenna said. “How did you know?”

  “The name’s engraved on the edge.”

  “The woman’s name is engraved on it?” Kenna asked in astonishment. “But that doesn’t make sense. She found it, and her husband—” Kenna put her fingertips to her temples. “No, wait. What did Gavie say when he gave it to me? He said that he saw the thing on her desk. He was snooping in her bedroom, not the old man’s. Gavie picked the thing up, but when he heard someone coming, he hid in the closet. He didn’t realize that he still had the ornament in his hand. He said . . .”

  She paused for a moment. “Yes, Gavie said that she was looking for it, frantically searching through drawers, and he felt bad that he had it because he’d always liked the woman. Gavie said he was planning to drop the thing on the floor after she left so she’d think it’d been there all along.”

  “But she was killed?”

  “Yes. Her husband came into the room, and she accused him of stealing it. Gavie said there was a horrible fight and they got very angry, both of them shouting and screaming and accusing each other of dreadful things. Gavie was just a kid at the time, so he never thought to step out of the closet and give the thing back. But then the next thing that happened was that the old man shot her. Gavie said it was an accident. It was her gun. She screamed that she was sick of him and his snooping into everything she owned, so she drew out her gun, a tiny derringer. But when the old man tried to take the little gun from her, it went off.”

  Pausing, Kenna looked at Artie. “After that everyone in the house came running, and in the chaos Gavie sneaked out of the closet. He didn’t even realize that he still had the brass ornament in his hand until he was outside, and by then he was too afraid to tell anyone what he’d seen. In fact, he never told anyone about what he’d seen until years later when we were in bed together.”

  “Was she a gambler too?”

  “No, only the old man gambled, and I heard that later, his grandson Colin did. Gambling is like a disease in that family and it skips a generation.”

  “So what do you think she was doing with this template? Was she altering it so he’d lose at the gaming tables? Maybe she was hoping he’d be shot when it was found out that he was cheating,” Artie said, still looking at the template in interest.

  “Maybe, but why is her name on the thing? It’s as though that was her template, not his.”

  “Maybe she was planning to do some gambling herself, beat him at his own game. But whatever it was, this thing must have been important to her because she pulled a gun on the old man when she thought he’d stolen it. Didn’t she gamble at all?”

  “In a way, she did. She outspent him. What he didn’t gamble away, she spent. Gavie used to say that—” Suddenly, Kenna sat up straight, her eyes wide.

  “What is it?” Artie asked enthusiastically.

  “Treasure. She left it all behind. Cards. A pack of cards to James. Not to Colin. He showed me. Pictures of the treasure on the cards.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Artie said, obviously annoyed that he was being left out of whatever she was talking about.

  Kenna suddenly grabbed the template, then leaped across the bed, and picked up the letter, all while pulling the bell to call her maid. “Get out.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Get out. Now. Go away. Never come back.”

  “Whatever is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to get married, that’s all. I’m going to marry a man who doesn’t know it, but he’s fabulously wealthy.”

  For a moment Artie looked annoyed that he was being dismissed, then he gave a slow, seductive smile. “May I come and visit you?”

  At that Kenna looked him up and down. “If I remember James correctly,” she said softly, “he smells of sheep. Of course you may visit me. But not until after I’m married.”

  “Of course not,” Artie said as he gathered his clothes across one arm, then walked past the shocked maid stark naked.

  Eighteen

  Temperance was in her bedroom, where she was often since she and James had had their quarrel. She busied herself with making notes on what she’d observed in McCairn and tried to make a plan of what she could use when she returned to New York.

  When she heard a knock on her door, she looked up and said, “Come in.”

  An older woman stood there, and it took Temperance a moment to place her. She was the mother of Finola.

  Temperance gave the woman a smile, but she wanted to get back to her papers and besides, she knew exactly what the woman wanted. “Oh,” she said, “it was your daughter who made the sketches for the dresses. Yes, I’m going to get to them soon. I just haven’t had time.”

  “No,” the woman said. “I didn’t come about that. We want to invite you to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Temperance said distractedly. “Yes, dinner. See Eppie in the kitchen; she’ll give you something to eat.”

  When the woman didn’t move, Temperance could feel her staring. Annoyed, Temperance put down her pen. “I really will get to the sketches,” she said to the woman. “I won’t forget.”

  The woman didn’t lose her smile. “I’m sure that you will, and I’m sure that you’ll do with my daughter what you did with Grace, but right now, how’d you like to have something to eat?”

  For a few moments, Temperance just sat there blinking at the woman. In all her years of helping women, she couldn’t remember even one occasion when someone had invited her to dinner. When she went to visit a person in need, Temperance always showed up with a basket full of food— and she had come to realize that such an offering was expected of her.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t eat dinner?” the woman asked, looking at Temperance in disbelief.

  “No, I do; it’s just that . . .”

  “If you’re waitin’ for James to show up, ye’ll have a long wait, as he’s up on the mountain, keepin’ his pride company.”

  At that Temperance laughed. “You know, I am hungry. I’ll just stop in the kitchen and get—”

  “No you won’t,” the woman said, her jaw rigid. “You come empty-handed or you don’t come at all.”

  “Well, then,” Temperance said as she stood, “I guess I’ll go empty-handed.”

  As Temperance walked behind the woman, out of the house, and down toward the village, they met half a dozen children on the way. In the weeks since they’d been skating, Temperance hadn’t seen much of the children. In fact, lately her time had been so taken up with hats and writing her observations that she hadn’t been outside often.

  As they walked toward the village, the children chattering beside her, Temperance tried to suppress a smile. They were obviously planning a sort of celebration, and she was the guest of honor. She wondered what they had prepared: speeches and tributes of various sorts? Would she be embarrassed by their effusive thanks? Truthfully, she did hope that they didn’t go on too long, as she had work to do.

  The woman stopped at one of the whitewashed cottages, opened the door, and went inside, then stood there for a moment while she waited for Temperance to enter. For a moment Temperance hesitated. They couldn’t get many people inside that small house, could they? Where was everyone going to sit?

  But then Temperance decided that this particular party wasn’t up to her to organize and she wasn’t going to hurt this woman’s feelings by pointing out the obvious. They’d all soon see the need for more space.

  Inside the house a peat fire burned in the hearth, and two children, a boy and a girl, were seated at the table, the younger child, the boy, diligently making marks on a slate tablet, while the girl was reading a book. How quaint, Temperance thought.

  “Sit and make yourself at home,” the woman said.

  The boy looked up at Temperance when she was sitting on a chair on the other side of the table. “Mam felt sorry for y