Ollie downed his first brandy and poured himself another without responding.
“Because we haven’t got the key,” rasped the jaundiced servant, crossing the room to stand by his master.
Ollie’s jaw tightened, but he simply capped the brandy and lifted his glass to his lips.
Evan turned his gaze to the wiry butler. “Where is the key?”
“Don’t know,” came the scratchy reply.
“Where did you last see it?”
“Never have.”
“Never?” Evan repeated incredulously.
“Don’t think there ever was one.” The servant shrugged one bony shoulder. “That’s why we kept it open.”
“Why do you care?” Ollie interrupted at last, his dark gaze focused on Evan.
“Why doyou?” Evan gestured at the little box. “Damn thing’s empty.”
“Feels empty,” the servant corrected slyly. “Can’t know for certain until it’s open.”
True enough. “If you want inside that badly, a second or two with a hammer ought to do the trick.”
Ollie shook his head. “No hammer, no shovel, no ax. Didn’t you feel how heavy it was? All that delicate gold filigree and intricate ornamentation hides an iron core. Literally. It’s a strongbox, meant to look like a fribble’s gewgaw.”
Evan turned toward the innocuous-looking jewelry box again, nonplussed. Brilliant, that. How many times had he seen the thing on the mantle and never given it a passing thought? He wondered in which port Ollie had found such a treasure. And why it hadn’t come with a key.
“Fair bit of dirt stuck in the keyhole,” he commented idly.
The butler’s teeth flashed. “That was milady’s handiwork, it was. She likes to—”
“—play games,” Ollie finished, casting his lapdog a silencing look.
The servant’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny throat, but he didn’t contradict his master’s obvious lie.
Why lie? Well, yes, Ollie was a pirate and as such lied on a regular basis, but not typically to Evan, and certainly not about something as silly as whether his wife had buried a trick jewelry box in a fit of matrimonial pique.
He frowned. She couldn’t bethatsick, if she was well enough to traipse downstairs, carry a heavy box and an equally heavy shovel out to the rock garden, and bury the former in the dirt. And add a gravestone.
Perhaps she was socially... awkward. Or painfully shy. Or simply reclusive. Given her parents’ history, she would not have had what could be termed a typical childhood.
He picked up the box again, hefting its weight. There had to be some way to open it. “Can I take it home for a few days?”
“No.”
Not even a breath had passed before the refusal came.
Evan replaced the box on the mantle, unsurprised at Ollie’s answer. No matter if it were nothing more precious than ordinary snuff inside an ordinary snuff box, Ollie wasn’t one to share what was his when he didn’t wish to. Perhaps it was time to turn the topic.
“Are you going to join the captain’s crew?”
Ollie’s dark brows lifted. He gestured with his now-empty glass. “Leave all this?”
Evan inclined his head and wondered whether there was any truth to the captain’s promise to leave them behind alive and well, if they decided not to enlist.
Normally, he would’ve shared such concerns with Ollie. But Evan still wasn’t 100 percent certain whose side Ollie was on—if on anyone’s side but his own. Hewascertain he had overstayed his welcome. Particularly since they were all aware of his unannounced arrival and subsequent ignominious discovery in the dining room.
