Gazing over the deceptively placid surface of the lake, she noticed a stream of bubbles rising to the surface near a clump of reeds. “Look, Hart, bubbles!” Without hesitation she dived in.

“No, don’t—” Hart yelled, but she was already underwater.

He waited, anxiety rising. More bubbles rose, but there was no sign of George. He dived in after her, and found her caught underwater, fighting a snag that had caught her divided skirt and trapped her.

In a surge of fear and rage he ripped it free and they bobbed to the surface, George coughing and spluttering.

“Nobody there,” she managed between coughs. She was filthy and dripping with lake weed.

He wanted to shake her. He pounded her on the back, scolding her fiercely. “You damned little fool, what the hell did you think you were doing, risking yourself like that? It’s madness!”

“M’all right,” she gasped and vomited up a gush of brown lake water.

“You are damned well not all right!” He stood over her furiously, helplessly, and when she’d finally stopped vomiting water, he lifted her into his arms and marched toward his horse.

“I can walk.” She struggled weakly to get down.

“Shut up,” he said savagely. “One more word or argument and I—I’ll throttle you.” She laughed weakly. He placed her carefully on the horse, and swung up behind her.

“I thought . . . the shoes, the breeches—”

“I know what you thought.” He wanted to shake her and at the same time cradle her next to his heart and never let her go. Bad enough that he’d lost Phillip, but the thought of losing her . . .

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she said.

Hart nodded. After a while he said, “The lake will have to be dragged.”

She leaned into him then, her face pressed to his throat, and he realized she was weeping silently.

He carried her into the house, and called for hot water and a bath. “And then it’s bed for you,” he told her severely.

Chapter Twenty-one

Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.

—JANE AUSTEN, EMMA

Hart decided to return the money to the bank and leave George to take a nap. He didn’t want such a large sum of money lying around. On the way he passed the Glover farm, and wondered whether there was any news of Danny. Would there be two small bodies found when they dragged the lake? He decided not to stop. If he had to speak to Glover once more, and listen to the man deny any interest in his stepson, he’d probably kill him.

Then he saw a small figure, lurking in the bushes near the house. It was a boy, but not the boy, Peter, he’d seen there before. This boy was taller. Hart rode closer. Good God! It was Phillip!