The Soldier's Dark Secret

‘You,’ Jack said. ‘From the moment I first saw you, you’ve tormented me. Spying on me. Kissing me. Goading me. Tempting me. As if I didn’t have enough to keep me awake at nights without torturing myself with visions of you, of us. I can barely keep my hands off you. I’ve never been that sort of man before. I’ve never lost my temper with Robert before. I’ve never come so near to spilling my guts on the dinner table before. And what is the common factor in all this? You.’

‘That is completely outrageous! I could say the exact same thing of you. You make me feel as if I am some sort of—of insatiable temptress,’ Celeste exclaimed. ‘And look at me now, screeching like a fishwife. I never shout. I never cry. I never have any difficulty whatsoever in keeping my hands and my lips and my body to myself. I am a calm person, I am a cold person, even, and yet with you...’ She threw her hands into the air.

‘You realise how ridiculous you sound,’ Jack said.

Even through her temper, she did. Celeste bit her lip and tried to glower.

He sighed. ‘How ridiculous we both sound.’

She took a tentative step towards him. ‘I didn’t come here to harangue you. I’m sorry.’

‘I deserved it.’ Jack managed a wry smile. ‘You are most definitely not the kind of woman who uses her charms to get her own way. I went to dinner last night of my own accord. It was a sort of test. Which I failed rather spectacularly.’

Celeste took another step towards him. ‘What happened, Jack?’

He stared out over the lake. He picked up a stone, then let if fall. ‘It’s just— There are smells. Certain smells.’

‘The blood! You mean the blood from the meat?’

‘No. No, it’s not the blood. I’ve seen too much blood for it to be— Not on its own.’ He picked up another stone and began to turn it over and over in his hands. ‘I thought it might be. Eleanor is very fond of serving up roast beef, charred and bloody in the English tradition, so I do tend to avoid that, just in case...’ He closed his eyes momentarily. ‘But I would have been fine last night, I think, if it hadn’t been for the stew she had specially made for you.’

‘The Provençal dish?’ Celeste’s face fell. ‘So it was my fault?’

‘No. I did blame you, but I wasn’t exactly rational. Don’t ask me, I can’t explain. Given my spectacular outburst back there. I’m not surprised Charlie thinks I’m mad.’

Celeste caught his hand. ‘Jack, you know you are not.’

‘I do know that much, actually.’ He gently disengaged himself. ‘You know, if Robert is hoping to catch a trout here, I reckon he’ll be disappointed. I saw a heron take one this morning. If it’s been here awhile, there will be precious little left.’

‘I think they will be draining it very soon. You will have to find somewhere else to swim.’

‘I’m thinking of going to London.’

Celeste swallowed hard. ‘London?’

‘I’m sick of kicking my heels here, and I’m becoming an embarrassment to Charlie and Eleanor—they didn’t even feel they could risk inviting their friends to dinner, for God’s sake. And as it turns out, they were right.’

‘Jack...’

‘Celeste, I need to get away from here. And from you. You are far too much of a distraction—as I fear I am, for you. You need to concentrate on your painting, and I need to be doing something. I will take your locket and ring with me, if I may, do some digging, lean on my contacts a bit,’ Jack said with a tight smile, ‘I do still have some.’

‘But you will be coming back?’ she could not stop herself from asking.

‘In a week or so. I promised I’d do my best to help you find answers. I have no intention of breaking that promise.’

‘And I will be here. My commission will take me several more weeks.’ Unless Sir Charles had her bags packed. Or more likely his wife had, Celeste thought, wearily contemplating the necessity for an apology.

‘Good. That’s settled then. So, if you could hand it over—the locket? I’ve still got the signet ring.’

‘You mean right now?’

‘I’m heading off first thing in the morning,’ he said briskly. ‘Turn around.’

She did as he asked. It was a good thing, Jack’s wanting to go to London, she told herself. She did need to work. And he was right, he was too much of a distraction. She still, more than ever, wanted to resolve the issue of her mother’s letter. She would not miss him at all. Not a bit.

His fingers were cool on the nape of her neck as he undid the clasp. If she leaned back only a fraction, she would feel his chest on her back, his legs against hers.

He turned her around, tucking the necklace into his waistcoat pocket.

‘I am very grateful for all your help.’

‘There’s no need. I am glad to have a purpose again.’

‘Still, I am grateful.’

Jack nodded. ‘I should go.’

‘Yes.’

‘Early start.’

‘Yes.’