A Kiss Before Dawn (23 page)

Feeling abruptly self-conscious, she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, veiling her nakedness as best she could before venturing to speak in an almost timid voice. “Peter, what is it? What's wrong?”

Instead of answering, he tossed her shirt to her, his face devoid of any emotion. “Here. Put this on.”

He rose and paced a short distance away, standing with his back to her as she shrugged into the shirt and buttoned it. It was long enough that it covered her to mid-thigh, and feeling not so diffident now that her nakedness was adequately concealed, she stood and crossed the room to lay a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Peter?”

At her touch, he whirled to face her, and his features were no longer unreadable. They were contorted with an anger he was trying hard to contain. His big body trembled with the force of it, and his eyes swirled with a plethora of feelings so potent that Emily gasped and took a stumbling step backward. Rage, confusion, disbelief, despair. But strongest of all was hurt. She could practically feel his pain, a tangible thing, vibrating in the air between them.

Desperate and quite suddenly afraid, she reached out and caught his arm. “Peter, please tell me what's wrong.”

“Explain this.”

His voice was low, barely more than a harsh whisper, his gaze piercing her with a savage intensity. His stare was so compelling, so full of wrath, that it took a second for her to realize that he had thrust something at her for her inspection.

She glanced down, and what she saw was enough to send the blood rushing from her head and a frigid coldness sluicing through her veins.

In one hand, he held her breeches with the gaping tear lying faceup. In the other was the scrap of fabric he had discovered last week in the tree at the Tuttleston home.

Even an untrained eye could have seen that they were a perfect match.

Oh, God, he knew!

Placing one hand over her stomach to calm the slow roll of nausea that churned deep within, she took another step backward, uncertain what to say, what to do. Just a few more hours and this would have all been over. Why did he have to discover her deception
now
?

“Please tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means, Emily. Please tell me that there is some other explanation, that you haven't been lying to me and deceiving me from the very beginning.” He paused for a moment, his jaw visibly tightening. “Tell me you aren't the Oxfordshire Thief.”

How she wanted to deny it. But she couldn't. After all they had shared tonight, she couldn't be less than truthful now. “I can't tell you that. Because I
am
the Oxfordshire Thief.”

Fighting tears, she watched as his eyes fell shut for a brief moment and he swallowed almost convulsively. When he spoke again, his words sounded constricted. “God, Em, why? None of this makes sense.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry?” He looked incredulous. “Do you think being sorry makes up for what you've done? You've robbed from people who trusted you, cared about you! Do you think they'll accept a mere apology?”

His words were like blows, hitting Emily where she was most vulnerable. “I don't know. I hope they will, once I tell them why.”

“You haven't even told
me
why yet!”

“I will. I just…It's difficult.”

“Difficult?”

“Yes.” In spite of herself, her tears finally slipped free and slid down her cheeks and she glanced away, biting her lip. “You're so angry.”

“What did you expect, Em? Bloody congratulations? You've been nothing but dishonest since the day I arrived here. You pretended to help me, to aid my investigation, when all the while you were the one responsible.”

“I never meant to hurt anyone, and I had reasons—”

“Then tell me what they are! Make me understand!”

He was shouting now, and Emily flinched at the sheer volume. Dear God, she had known his anger would hurt, but never had she suspected just how much. How could she explain? “It's a long story.” She indicated the love seat with one hand, casting him a beseeching look.

“I'll tell you everything, but perhaps we should both sit down?”

Peter paused for an instant, then gave a single, abrupt nod.

He followed as she led the way across the room. But instead of seating himself next to her on the love seat, he leaned against the empty fireplace and crossed his arms. When she raised an inquiring brow at him, he shook his head.

“I'm fine here. Just go ahead. I'm listening, although I fail to see what you could possibly have to say that would excuse what you've done.”

Taking in his closed-off expression with a sense of despair, Emily had to restrain a wince at his tone. She would never be able to make him understand, but she had to try. “I'm not excusing myself. I was wrong and I have no qualms about admitting it. But I do want to explain why and how I stumbled into such a mess. I had planned on telling you all of it in the morning, but…” She trailed off.

Peter said nothing. He didn't look as if he believed her, and she supposed she couldn't blame him. More than likely, he would never believe anything she said ever again.

Sucking in a gust of air, she twined her hands in her lap and prayed to the Lord above to give her the words to make things right. “It all began with Jack Barlow…”

She told him about Jack's arrival in Little Haverton and what had transpired between them on the day the thief had first approached her. She left nothing out,
telling him about Jack's threats against her family, what he had discovered about the late Countess of Ellington, and his attempt to use the tale to blackmail her and get her to fall in with his plans.

“I know now I should have gone to the authorities right away,” she confessed. “Especially after he told me what he wanted me to do, but I was so scared, so confused. I panicked, and I wasn't thinking very clearly. All I knew was that I couldn't let Jack tell anyone what he knew.”

She paused and looked up at Peter, her chin quivering despite her determination to stay strong. “Because I had been alone for so long as a child, the thought of having my family torn apart was enough to terrify me. The scandal Jack's story could have caused would have been enough to do just that. And he threatened Deirdre and the babe.” Her hands tightened their grip on each other. “It wasn't until after I committed the first robbery at the Tuttlestons' that I realized I'd made a mistake, but by then it was too late. I was already implicated in the crime. And it was like quicksand. I just seemed to fall in deeper and deeper. I tried to figure out a way to stop it all, to foil Jack's scheme without jeopardizing my mother's secret, but it was no use.”

“And you say Barlow had proof of your mother's supposed affair?” Peter's voice was curt, his face a granite mask, giving away nothing.

“Yes. Letters, written by my mother to her friend Lady Brimley, admitting to the affair and her possible
pregnancy. I have no idea how he got them, but they're in her handwriting.”

When Peter didn't speak again, Emily continued, desperate to get through to him. “That's why I was at the cottage tonight. To see if I could find the letters and retrieve the jewels. Without the letters, he has no proof of his claims, and I could turn him over to the law and return the stolen items to their owners without fear of what he might say to ruin my family.”

“You must realize even if you had managed to do all of that, the law wouldn't have cared what reasons you had for being involved,” Peter prompted with a hint of impatience. “They more than likely would have taken you into custody, as well.”

“Yes, I was aware from the beginning what could happen. But I didn't care about me. I cared about my brother and sister-in-law, my future niece or nephew. You, more than anyone, should know how much they mean to me. I couldn't stand back and watch them be destroyed. Tristan would be devastated if he found out about Mother. He loved her so much. And I didn't know how much of what Jack said was true. As far as I knew, it was quite possible that he could lose his title, his lands, everything. Maybe even Willow Park. All because of those terrible letters. I couldn't take the chance.”

Peter pushed away from the fireplace and began to pace the area in front of the love seat. “I can't help but wonder how you accomplished all of this. The breaking and entering? Lock-picking? I know I taught you a bit,
but I called a halt to the lessons soon after we came to Little Haverton.”

“After you refused to teach me anything else, I begged the rest of the Rag-Tags to continue with the lessons. Miles worked with me on lock-picking.” Emily felt her face heat and she was certain it must be as red as a beet. “I got quite good at it.”

“Obviously. Remind me to wring Miles's neck when we finish this conversation.” Peter came to a halt and scrubbed a hand over his face before turning back to her with a frown. “And I suppose you knew the combinations to the safes at both the Fulberry and Caulfield residences?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving him. He held himself so stiffly, as if he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dear God,
she
had done this to him. “Penelope likes to talk, and she let it slip to me long ago that her husband had chosen the date of her birth as the combination to his safe. And Lord Caulfield keeps his written on a slip of paper in his desk drawer in his study, because he's always forgetting it. All I had to do was locate the piece of paper.”

Silence stretched, and Emily began to fidget as Peter resumed his agitated strides, across the room and back. What would he say? What would he do?

“Damnation, Emily!”

His sudden outburst had her jumping in her seat, and she looked up to find him towering over her, his eyes blazing down at her.

“Why didn't you come to me? I might have been able
to figure out a way to resolve all of this long ago,
without
revealing your mother's secret.”

Unsure how to answer him, she lifted one shoulder helplessly. “I…I didn't know what you would do.”

For just an instant, Emily could clearly read the anguish in his gaze, then a curtain dropped down over his features, guarding his innermost thoughts from her. “I see. I should have known. You didn't trust me.”

“It not that!” she protested. “It's just…Ever since you came to live at Willow Park you've tried so hard to always do what was right, no matter the consequences. I suppose it was your way of making up for your past. And you're a Runner, for heaven's sake! I was afraid if I told you, you would feel as if you
had
to turn me in, regardless of what might be revealed in the process.”

“You didn't trust me.”

Peter's tone as he repeated the statement was cold, emotionless. He turned away from her, and Emily shot to her feet, hating that she was causing him such pain, but not knowing quite how to make it up to him. She
should
have trusted him, should have realized he would never do anything to hurt her family. She knew that now. Now that it was too late.

“Peter, please listen to me. I swear, I was going to tell you in the morning. All of it. But I wanted a chance to make things right first. I wanted to hand the stolen items over to the law and make sure Jack was behind bars.” She clasped her hands in front of her to still the trembling of her fingers, willing him to believe her. “I wanted to be able to tell you I'd done the right thing in the end.”

He came to a stop in front of the fireplace again, running both hands through his hair before he spoke without turning to face her. “Did you get the letters?”

She eyed his back anxiously. “Yes. They're in the pocket of my breeches.”

“And the jewels?”

“Miles and Jenna have them.”

Peter glanced back over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth curled in a wry grimace. “So Jenna and Miles were in on this all along?”

“Don't blame them. They were just trying to help me, to keep me from getting into trouble. Miles wanted to tell you everything from the beginning.”

“Smart man.” There was another long silence, then Peter pivoted to meet her worried eyes. “Jack has been tormenting Benji as well.”

Stunned at the revelation, Emily felt herself go cold all over. “What?”

“Barlow approached him several weeks ago and told Benji he had information about his past, information he would only reveal if Benji did as he said.”

Aware of an alarming weakness in her knees, Emily sank down into a nearby chair, clutching at the cushioned armrests for support. “Do you think he really knows anything? About Benji's past, I mean?”

“I doubt it, but the boy believes he might. Apparently, not knowing anything about his background or where he comes from has been bothering Benji much more than any of us ever realized.”

“No wonder he's been acting so strange lately.”

“Well, this is all about to end. Right now. Jack Bar
low will be sorry he ever thought to step foot in Little Haverton.”

At Peter's angry, resolute words, Emily looked up to see him marching for the parlor door. Lunging to her feet, she reached out and caught his arm as he went by, fear for him setting her heart pounding. “Where are you going?”

“After Jack, of course. It's about time someone put a stop to his schemes once and for all, and I'm just the man to do it.”

“Peter, you can't! He could be armed! Go to Constable Jenkins—”

“The time for bringing in the local authorities is past, Emily. Jack and I have a reckoning that is long overdue, and I can assure you that I'm more than capable of handling myself. I have a vested interest in making sure my family is safe.” He leveled her with a scorching glare. “Whether some people believe that fact or not.”

He shook her loose and left the room.

Emily started to follow, but realizing she was wearing nothing except a thin shirt, she hurried back to the love seat to retrieve her breeches and hastily stepped into them before rushing out into the foyer, lacing them up as she went.