“And the other mosaics?” My voice cracked in the most undignified manner, and I turned to stare out the window.
“They appeared to be intact.”
A rustle sounded as he sat down beside me, and the settee cushion sank beneath his weight. His presence felt solid, his leg brushing against my gown.
Forcing my clenched fingers to relax, I dared to look at him. How close we sat. I could see the flecks of amber in his eyes. No longer quite so hard. Nor so cold.
In fact... I averted my gaze and inhaled deeply.
“He simply rode away with Bacchus?”
His voice was steady. “I suspect he had a wagon and help overnight. I wonder if he returned this morning to seek something else. Maybe something smaller.”
“Could it be one of your men?” I asked as I shifted ever so slightly to offset the warmth emanating from his presence.
As if sensing the same nearness, he edged away. “I’d hate to think so. But if that is the case, they will regret touching one tile.”
“Mr. Cobb showed quite an interest in Mr. Perry’s field,” Father said. “The day we left the abbey, he stormed up to my chaise, sour faced, asking for compensation to dig with them. When Bridget said it wouldn’t be much, he retracted. He clearly expected something more substantial, likely hoping to profit from the discovery. His disappointment was obvious.”
“Mr. Cobb,” Rafe repeated quietly, turning his attention from Father to me. “Has he bothered you?”
A simple question, but one laced with an undertone of threatto Mr. Cobb should he overstep his bounds. I had always suspected Rafe would be a formidable opponent if crossed. I had no other protector in my life and had discovered a measure of independence. Yet I couldn’t deny a small traitorous thought circling in the back of my mind of how nice it would be to have such protection.
“No, he hasn’t. Of course, there was also Mr. Barron, who insisted on supporting us a few weeks prior. But I suspect his interest leans more toward my friend.”
Rafe scowled, his brows drawing down into a fearsome V.
“You will inform me if any of them trouble you again. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
I clasped my fingers together before they betrayed my nervousness. “Who do you think stole the mosaic?”
“Considering the rubbish that was printed in the London papers, anyone.” Again, the muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Mr. Perry wanted to hire the Dixon boys to guard the site,” I said, then hastened to add when a thunderous expression crossed his face, “Oh, they couldn’t be responsible for the loss. They’re simply too young and—”
“Immature,” he supplied dryly. “It’s likely they went home after working and climbed into the comfort of their own beds. I will speak with them as soon as I can.”
I shifted on the couch, all too aware of how constrained our space was and how close we sat together. “About the newspapers, I want to assure you I had nothing to do with those dreadful stories regarding the gladiator mosaic, nor the child.”
“I didn’t think you had,” he said evenly.
A strange relief flooded me. He had once asked me if we were to be friends, and I now felt that regard keenly. In truth, I did not keep many friends. Many acquaintances, yes, but few who truly understood me.
Father’s voice broke into my thoughts. “He that loveth silvershall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase: this is also vanity.”
I recognized the quote from Ecclesiastes chapter five, verse ten—likely one he now contemplated for Sunday’s sermon.
“It’s a temptation, no doubt,” Rafe agreed. “Two things drive a man to reprehensible behavior. Temptation and desperation.”
He spoke as someone who had been seared by experience.
“Don’t forget pride,” Father said, with a wry tilt to his lips. “I should think the original sin counts for much of our devastation.”
“Pride, desperation, temptation, and all other philosophical or theological remarks aside, we must prepare because more hunters will flock to the dig, circling like a pack of crows. I can’t bear the thought of Mr. Perry losing his farm,” I added.
“The real question is who is responsible,” Father said as he pushed his glasses up the bony bridge of his nose.
None of us had answers.
