at least. You know what it is to be among your comrades. They understand your life. Not like those at home.”
Winston ducked his head in agreement. He was as cast off as the colonel had been. It left one unmoored and aimless.
Alden did not seem to notice Win’s disquiet. He took another draw at his cigarette before peering thoughtfully at Winston. “That’s when Isley came in. Met him at some party given by Mrs. Noble. An art exhibit for that painter who died this spring… Manet. Heard of him?”
“Yes,” Winston said, shifting uncomfortably. “Quite talented, I believe.”
The colonel waved his cigarette in a lazy fashion. “It was Isley who found me this hand. He took me round the next day to a tinker, of all things, although I suppose it’s about right. Who else could fashion such a thing?”
“Did you ever meet a woman named Moira Darling?” Winston asked.
The colonel shook his grey head. “Never heard of her.” He stared at his steel hand again, as if discovering it anew. “Clever thing. Saved my life, really.”
Winston was losing the colonel. Soon he’d be on a different track, and it would be impossible to get any further information about Isley out of him.
Idly, Alden tapped a finger against his gold case again but did not open it. His long, weathered fingers stroked the thing with a sort of meditative reverence. An action, Winston suspected, that was habit.
“Did Isley give you that case, sir?”
The colonel stopped. “This? No. I bought it…. That is to say someone…” The colonel’s expression went blank as if he were trying to catch a memory or perhaps one had tickled the corners of his mind, but then he harrumphed and his intense focus returned. “Tell you the truth, I am not sure where I picked this up. But it wasn’t from Isley. Couldn’t have been…”
“Merely curious,” Winston said.
“Isley was the one responsible for my returning to the army, you know.” Alden’s big body seemed somehow frail in the setting sunlight as he squinted at him. “I mentioned my distress at being sent home and the man made a few inquiries. The next week, they called me back in.” Alden frowned, looking off into the distance. “I’d forgotten that. Can’t imagine how I could…” He shook his head slowly.
“Must have simply slipped your mind,” Winston said. Or someone put the thought back into it. The question was why? And what was another of Jones’s victims doing here?
“Might I ask, sir, what it was that brought you to this party this weekend?”
The colonel’s bushy brows lifted. “Damnedest thing, really. I hadn’t thought of Amy Noble in years, then my butler brought in the mail and an invitation was there. Figured, why not?”
Indeed. Win studied the colonel anew. There was obviously something about this man that Jones wanted Winston to discover. Usually, Win enjoyed games of wit. But today, he barely stifled the urge to curse. Or perhaps try to shake the truth out of the colonel.
But the colonel’s attention had drifted to the window, his keen eyes tracking a lady as she strolled along the terrace with the other female guests. Winston’s muscles clenched. He was staring at Poppy. Poppy, who looked utterly breathtaking in a gown of deep silver satin.
“Do you know her?” he asked the colonel without taking his gaze from his wife.
Alden shook his head. “She simply caught my eye. The way a fine piece of art might, you gather?”
Win nodded. He did not imagine the colonel’s interest to be more than abstract.
The colonel’s attention wandered back to Poppy as she strolled along the terrace. “It is strange. Just then, it felt as though I’ve seen that very picture before. Perhaps in a painting. Note the evening light, the way it glows on the soft curve of her cheekbone, how it gleams along the edge of her jaw and the small shadows beneath the pillow of her lower lip. Chiaroscuro, they call that effect.”
“Yes.” Win watched his wife, the sunlight kissing her skin and setting the red in her hair aflame. He gathered he would never see a more beautiful woman in the world. Because she was his. Win lowered his voice confidentially. “The lady happens to be my wife.”
The colonel colored. “Really, man, you ought to have said something. I do apologize for speaking out of turn.”
“Think nothing of it, sir. I found no offense in your admiration, certainly.”
“Good of you,” the colonel grumbled before giving Win a light slap on the shoulder. “Go collect