298

***

"Where is Inés?" Cárcel asked as soon as he walked in through the threshold.

"She is resting in the drawing room with Lord Luciano," Raúl replied, inclining his head.

His demeanor betrayed no alarm, easing Cárcel's worst fears. If Inés had arrived in grave condition or suffered a seizure-a prospect that had haunted him during his journey-Raúl's well-trained mask would have slipped, however slightly. Yet, Cárcel's relief did not quell the undercurrent of worry that clung to him. He lingered in the doorway for a breath, simply staring ahead of him as though lost in thought, before elegantly slipping off his gloves and handing them to his valet. He then strode deeper into the manor without another word, Raúl following in his wake.

"She should be in bed," Cárcel muttered, almost to himself. "Have you called for a physician yet?"

"No, my lord. She wished to simply rest."

Cárcel's lips thinned in dissatisfaction, but he let the matter drop. After a pause, he spoke again. "That painter from Bilbao-Emiliano."

There was no answer from Raúl, and Cárcel sensed a world of unspoken thoughts in that silence. Even the ever-discreet valet seemed unsettled at the mention of Emiliano. He seemed to think that something was going on between the painter and his mistress. Though Raúl had taken care of things for Inés all this time, he must have been unaware of Emiliano's true identity; he likely regarded the painter as an uncomfortable presence lingering in the back of his mind. No matter how much he looked into it, the painter and his mistress had never met-they were little more than strangers-but his sharp instincts must have told him otherwise.

His suspicions meant nothing to Cárcel now, of course.

"A collection of his paintings was on display at the exhibition," Cárcel added.

"At Barca Manor?" Raúl asked, dumbfounded. "How did his paintings find their way there? Did the archbishop grant his approval?"

"He didn't need to. They were painted before Emiliano left for Bilbao." Cárcel sounded very certain despite the careful wording he used.

Raúl gave him a confused look until Cárcel turned to face him, and Raúl quickly lowered his gaze.

"Are all his paintings before he started his commission in Bilbao in Joaquín's possession?" Cárcel asked. "Even the ones he meant to keep for himself?"

"In principle, yes, except for those he sold before he came into contact with Don Joaquín's art dealer, or the ones he was hiding away. Emiliano delivered the exact number of works Don Joaquín commissioned and painted things he wished to paint for himself with the money he earned. If he hadn't had the fortune of being sponsored by a patron, his great talent would have been stifled by poverty. He has no head for managing money..." Raúl muttered absentmindedly as he carefully eyed Cárcel. The great fortune that Emiliano had was none other than Inés, after all.

But Cárcel's expression showed no sign of change, and he simply nodded.

Raúl cautiously continued, "In any case, as far as I know, he has never wanted to sell his paintings outside of his regular commissions, as he isn't a particularly greedy or ambitious man. The space he used as a workshop along with other painters in Oligarchia, along with his accommodations before that were all rented for him through Don Joaquín, so I doubt he had the means to store his paintings elsewhere. He would have no need for it either. If he would have just handed them all to the art dealer, he wouldn't have to spend money to store them, and they would be in much safer hands. Don Joaquín would never sell his paintings without permission either."

Emiliano had spent much time honestly earning coin after coin simply to afford one simple gold necklace. He had no means to afford storage. More pigments and linseed oil would have been difficult enough for him to afford for the paintings hanging at Barca Manor which he must have painted for himself, not to sell for money.

Cárcel's thought drifted to the huge canvas of Inés looking down at her baby. For a poor painter, the canvas alone would have been a large expense. But this was the man whose love for Inés was so deep that he had volunteered his own punishment by keeping his memory, just to make sure he would never accidentally run into her. Would he-could he-have ever sold something related to her of his own accord? The notion seemed absurd.

"What about those he personally owns?" Cárcel asked, still musing.

"I suspect those paintings lay in storage somewhere, since the art dealer is planning to sell his works at a premium once Emiliano fulfills his commission in Bilbao. Even if Emiliano had insisted on selling his personal pieces, Don Joaquín would have stopped him, at least once it was decided that he would be painting the mural in Bilbao. The commission he would receive alone would be incredibly lucrative, so he wouldn't have allowed Emiliano's work to slip past him."

"If neither Emiliano nor Joaquín would have sold those pieces..." Cárcel paused for a moment before adding in a definitive tone, "They must have been taken, either by theft or by force."

"Shall I visit Don Joaquín to confirm?"

"Send someone in your stead."

Raúl nodded, understanding what Cárcel was implying. "I will make sure no suspicion is aroused."

"Joaquín will not speak openly. He has likely been threatened to keep silent."

"I'll approach one of his subordinates."

"Good." Cárcel offered a curt nod before turning to ascend the stairs.

Behind him, Raúl turned the other way and swiftly disappeared down the corridor.

***

Luciano glanced over at Cárcel and said, "His Majesty's orders must have been quite cumbersome."

"Nothing I have not done before."

"Was that Barca wench behind this?"

"Most likely," Cárcel replied before quickly approaching Inés, who was asleep in her armchair, and checking on her.

Luciano let out a weak huff of laughter and told him, "Inés fell asleep a while ago."

"She looks uncomfortable. You should have moved her to her bed."

"She asked me to stay by her side until you returned. I suggested that she go and lie down, but she insisted that she could not allow me in the bedroom with her while you were not present. She said she did not want you to be criticized in any way."

"I do not care about that. Next time, do not concern yourself with such formalities."

"You will be the one at her side next time, Cárcel."

While Cárcel had been referring to the near future when he would be away at war, Luciano was speaking of the future when Cárcel had returned safely. He seemed to be just as impatient as his sister.

"Your wife insisted that nothing happened. At least, that is what she told me," Luciano added, implying that something had to have happened.

Cárcel wordlessly stared down at Inés. He looked conflicted.

Luciano stared at his brother-in-law for a moment before patting him lightly on the shoulder and getting to his feet. "I do not need you to see me out, so go and rest as well. You can tell me what happened later."

"Thank you."

Luciano kissed his own palm and then pressed it against Inés head, looking at her as though he were leaving behind a much younger sibling.

Cárcel sat on his knees in front of Inés's armchair for a while, just staring at her. He had been so anxious before, but now that he saw her sleeping so peacefully, his mind had calmed. Perhaps it was because he had very little time left to spend with her. Inés had seemed fairly unaffected, considering that Oscar must have wrought havoc in her head. The way she breathed so evenly and slept without a care seemed, in a way, like the right answer.

She had told him that she loved him. That she wasn't running or pushing him away. That she truly loved him, and that this was something she couldn't show him because of that.

Cárcel thought back to Emiliano's necklace hidden under his bed. Even if it proved to be another knife to her heart, she needed to find out about it eventually. It was better for the bleeding to stop and for the wound to heal rather than for it to cause her pain forever. Even if it stopped her breathing for a moment, for her to be able to breathe, she had to know. In order for her to finally escape from the swamp that was her past and her child, from the trap she had placed herself into... for her to forgive herself.

His breath hitched. It had occurred to him that the reason he was hesitating to give her the necklace might be because he was afraid the short time they had left together would be taken away by thoughts of Emiliano, and not because he was worried about her or because he doubted their ability to get through this together.

Ever since his deployment had been decided, he had spent many nights waking up and simply staring at her face before falling asleep again. There was always a set period of time it took for his eyes to adjust to the dark and make out her face. He felt like even that short time was a waste, but he didn't want candlelight to disturb her sleep, so he would always wait. He didn't want his selfishness to interrupt her peaceful dreams.

Cárcel slowly closed his eyes. As he carefully caressed her delicate eyelids, brushing past her long eyelashes and her soft cheek, he could clearly see her face under the bright sun in Calztela in his mind's eye. Even if she didn't show him her face, he could now envision her clearly.

If he was not allowed much more time, he needed to quickly give as much of his time to her as possible. Along with the answer he could provide her with right now. Even if she refused to face him until the moment he left Mendoza, even if he could not see her again before he boarded that warship, he needed to give her the necklace along with Emiliano's message. She would be able to bear it all now.

He carefully lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. Then he placed Emiliano's necklace by her pillow.