But what, Hamish was demanding, if the worried priest had backed away from confrontation, and written the codicil to his Will instead, hoping that in time May Trent might relent and do whatever it was that mattered so much to him? Only to learn that it was already too late; he’d set in motion a chain of events that couldn’t be reversed. . . .

Something that need never reach the light of day, if he lived to old age.

Rutledge said harshly, to the two women in his room and to the voice in his head, “I don’t know the answer. I wish to God I did!”

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 18

THERE WAS ABSOLUTE SILENCE FOR A long, disturbing moment.

Mrs. Barnett’s eyes were wide with distress. The emotionally charged atmosphere had left her speechless, unprepared to take up either side.

May Trent, who had borne the brunt of Rutledge’s intensity, found the inner resources to stare back at him, a remarkable strength in her face. “You don’t mean that,” she told him. “You can’t.” But there were tears on her lashes.

The room seemed to shrink in on him, the walls squeezing out the air, the two women between him and the door a trap he couldn’t escape from. Taking a deep breath to shake off the sense of smothering, Rutledge fell back on the one thing that had always brought him through: His ability to command.

In a voice that sounded absolutely normal, despite the turmoil that racked him, Rutledge said, “Mrs. Barnett. Can you serve Miss Trent her dinner tonight? I think she needs food, and she’s not in any condition to go elsewhere.”

“In her room?” Mrs. Barnett asked doubtfully, rising.

“No. In the dining room. Miss Trent, go and wash your face, then come downstairs with me.” He added as she started to protest, “I promise you I won’t bring up Mrs. Sedgwick or—or your own experiences. But I need to hear about Father James’s interest in Titanic and her death. And if you will tell me that, I shall stay out of your way after tonight.”

A fierce pride touched her. “I don’t want your pity!”

“I’m not offering you pity. I’m searching for answers. If you can help me, I’ll take that help with gratitude.” Then he added with a surprising and unexpected gentleness, “Go on. It’s for the best.”

May Trent studied him. He could almost read what was going through her mind—that she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts—but neither was she up to enduring public scrutiny at The Pelican, if her emotional state showed as she must have felt it did. “Give me five minutes.”

She walked out of the room and toward her own. Mrs. Barnett, watching her go, said to Rutledge, “That was inexcusable.”