The Rogue's Return by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online

duty?”
    Simon looked around the room. “Would you go through the drawers here? Isaiah tossed anything and everything into them, but there might be money or important items.”
    â€œVery well.” Hal rose and walked closer to the framed picture that hung over the fireplace. “This is a rather a good drawing, and that’s your wife, isn’t it, when younger? With her mother?”
    â€œYes.”
    Simon had grown used to the picture, but he studied it anew. It had probably been drawn about three years ago, which was a long time at Jane’s age.
    In the picture, her breasts were smaller, but her cheeks rounder. Her pale dress had a girlish simplicity but enough ribbons and frills to make it completely unlike the clothes she wore here. She wore her hair as she did today, simply tied back.
    She stood by the chair in which Martha Otterburn sat in widow’s clothing, looking a lot like Isaiah. His strength and kindness showed there, but also a stiffness he’d never had. From all accounts, Martha Otterburn had been a conventional woman. She’d refused to travel to Canada when widowed, even though Isaiah had urged her to, promising her a grand life here. She’d replied that her daughter was a lady and she wasn’t bringing her to live among savages in a forest.
    It was hard to see any resemblance between mother and daughter, but then Jane strongly resembled her Scottish father. She had brought an oil portrait of Archibald Otterburn, which hung in her bedroom. It showed similar features and identical coloring, though his hair was thin and receding.
    â€œDrawn by Jane’s cousin,” Simon said. “Nan, I think the name was. Some orphan connection of Jane’s father who was adopted by Martha as a child. She took ill and died on the way over. Sad case, for she and Jane were almost the same age and like sisters.”
    â€œShe had a remarkable gift.”
    â€œEspecially as she could only have been fifteen or so when she drew that.”
    Hal turned from the picture. “Too much thought of wasteful death. Off you go. I’ll ransack the drawers while keeping any other pillagers at bay.”
    Simon knew it was a pledge of all-encompassing help and support and gripped Hal’s arm briefly before leaving.
    He went to Klengenboomer, York’s only jeweler, but the portly man was apologetic. “Wedding rings are generally made to order, sir, or sent for from Montreal. I could make one by tomorrow afternoon. . . .”
    â€œMy wife needs one before the funeral.”
    â€œI see, sir. Excuse me a moment.”
    Klengenboomer went into a back room and returned with a small tray containing six rings. “Sometimes people find it necessary to sell.”
    â€œA pawned wedding ring?” Simon asked in revulsion.
    The jeweler shrugged. “Perhaps a loan until I can make a better, sir?”
    For some reason switching about revolted Simon even more.
    He’d wanted a grand ring to counterbalance the unfortunate situation, but these were all thin and worn. Only a desperate woman would part with her wedding ring, or a desperate man sell that of his dead wife. Some ring was better than none, however, so he chose the one most likely to fit.
    What, however, could be more ill-omened than this wedding day?
    Except for the news about Dare. That could outweigh all the rest.
    He paused to consider other jewelry. He’d never seen Jane wear anything other than plain hoops in her ears and a gold cross around her neck, but his wife should have more than that. Unfortunately, he had little money in hand. He’d been spending heavily on gathering evidence and assisting those Indians who were in the worst state.
    Hoping Hal had cash to lend, he bought a pretty silver brooch set with amethysts and a pair of pearl earrings. Sober ornaments, but even so, this wasn’t a day for gifts. He’d give them to her at the right moment.
    He returned to Trewitt