Andrea Kane (25 page)

Noelle felt her cheeks flame. “What kind of things?” she asked tentatively.

A scowl. “I wasn’t referring to your fascination for Tremlett and his for you, if that’s what that blush is all about. What’s more, I suggest we speedily retrace our steps and get back to the matter at hand—now—before I change my mind and refuse to allow the earl to visit.”

“When will Ashford be coming to Farrington?” Noelle complied at once, taking her father’s advice and instead probing a different and chaster area of interest. “Did he at least specify that?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Eric pushed aside his untouched paperwork, folding his hands on the desk before him. “He’ll be here this morning.”

“This morning?” Noelle’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A pointed look. “Because I value the tiny semblance of peace that still exists in this house. As it is, you’ve been haunting my doorstep, pacing about like a caged tiger. Had I told you of Lord Tremlett’s visit much before now, chaos would have erupted. So I waited until the last minute.” Eric glanced swiftly at the room’s grandfather clock, which read five minutes after eight. “Actually, not quite the last minute. He’ll be here in two hours. I was going to send for you soon, tell you of Tremlett’s plans, and suggest that you get ready to receive him. But it appears your pacing brought you to my study before I could do so.”

“I suppose I have been persistent.” Noelle’s eyes sparkled—as much from the fact that she’d soon be getting her answers as from the fact that she’d soon be seeing Ashford again.

Well … almost as much.

“Thank you, Papa.” She leaned forward and kissed Eric’s cheek.

“For what?”

“For letting Ashford visit. I know your feelings on the matter are mixed. But I promise you won’t be sorry.”

“I hope not.” A worried shadow darted across Eric’s face—one that bespoke something far more foreboding than fatherly concern over her choice of suitors.

What in the name of heaven was going on here?

The shadow vanished as quickly as it had come. “Go,” Eric urged. “Your preparation time is slipping away. You still have … let’s see, twenty minutes to get dressed and an hour and a half to amass all your questions.”

Noelle smiled at the accurate assessment. “I’ll need every moment of it.” A pause. “Papa, after Ashford leaves, then may we talk?”

“Yes.” Eric nodded slowly. “Then we’ll talk.”

“Very well.”

Her curiosity heightened almost beyond bearing, Noelle left the study and hurried upstairs, questions and suspicions colliding with each other in her mind.

What was disturbing her father so? Clearly it related to whatever he and Ashford had chatted about. Why were her parents being so secretive? More to the point, why did Ashford want to tell her the details of their discussion on his own? Also, why had he been so preoccupied on the morning after the ball? Had his preoccupation been the result of his private talk with her parents or of his private talk with his own father—and were the two discussions related?

Most unsettling of all, where had he been these past few days, and what had he been doing?

With regard to that final question, Noelle had a sinking feeling she knew the answer.

Oh, how she prayed her suspicions were wrong. But she didn’t think so—not given the headlines she’d read in the newspaper her parents had tried valiantly to conceal from her.

Lord and Lady Mannering’s home had been robbed at the end of last week—a robbery that divested them of a valuable Rembrandt and resulted in Lady Mannering’s murder.

Another art theft.

To be sure, an art theft whose outcome had been more dire than any that had preceded it. But an art theft nonetheless.

Did Ashford suspect Baricci? Was that why he hadn’t been to see her these past days? Was he checking into Baricci’s alibi, trying to find ways to implicate him? Further, when had Ashford learned of the crime? The
London Times
had carried news of it the day before yesterday, although the robbery had taken place several nights’ earlier—which meant it had occurred sometime during the three-day house party at Markham. Had Ashford learned about it while he was there? And if so, who had told him—the duke? Could news of the robbery and murder possibly have been what prompted Ashford’s father to summon him away from the ball? Or was all this just her imagination, once again dashing off on a tangent of its own?

Two hours, Noelle reminded herself. Then she’d have her answers.

She was perched at the edge of the sitting-room settee—like a thoroughbred at the starting gate—when Bladewell showed Ashford in at precisely ten o’clock.

Just seeing him, handsome as sin in his dark morning clothes, made Noelle’s heart skip a beat, and were it not for Grace’s daunting presence on the settee beside her, she would have rushed forward, flung herself into his arms.

As it was, she folded her hands in her lap, gifted him with a sunny smile. “Good morning, my lord.”

Ashford studied her, his expression enigmatic, his magnificent eyes drinking her in as one would a fine wine. Although she did notice the circles beneath those magnificent eyes, along with the lines of fatigue about his mouth. Clearly he hadn’t slept much these past few days.

Was it because he’d missed her or because he was investigating a crime more heinous than a mere theft?

“Good morning, Noelle,” Ashford murmured in that deep, mesmerizing voice of his. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He nodded politely at Grace. “And you as well, madam.”

“Lord Tremlett,” the maid returned curtly.

“I’ve spoken with Lord Farrington,” Ashford continued, still addressing Grace. “And he’s agreed to let me speak with your mistress alone. I’m sure you understand.”

Grace started, her double chin rippling from the motion. “Pardon me? Are you suggesting I leave Lady Noelle and you in this sitting room unchaperoned?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Ashford gestured politely towards the door. “You’re welcome to confirm what I’ve told you with Lord Farrington. You’ll find him in the library.”

“I most certainly intend to.” Gathering up her voluminous skirts, Grace marched out of the sitting room, nearly knocking Bladewell down in the process.

Noelle stifled a giggle. “Thank you, Bladewell,” she told the bewildered butler, who was clutching the door frame, struggling to regain his balance. “That will be all.”

“Very good, Miss Noelle.” Composure restored, Bladewell bowed, stepping into the hall and shutting the door in his wake.

Ashford turned back to Noelle, his expression telling her how glad he was that they were alone. “Now, may I request a proper greeting?” he asked, extending his hand to her.

Noelle rose at once, placing her hand in his and allowing him to draw her closer. “Did Papa really agree to—?”

“Yes.” Ashford’s arms wrapped tightly, possessively, about her. “But not for this.” His lips whispered across hers. “Still, it’s worth the risk. I need to feel you in my arms. I missed you,
tempête.
Tell me you missed me, too.”

“Oh, Ashford, so much.” Noelle twined her arms about his neck, lifting her face to receive his kiss.

His mouth closed over hers, consuming her with prolonged, heated intensity—an intensity as brief as it was ardent.

With great reluctance, Ashford eased away, his knuckles trailing down the side of Noelle’s neck, up her hot cheek. “We have to talk. I’m not sure how long your father’s patience will last.”

“I’m exploding with curiosity,” Noelle replied breathlessly. “And I have a million questions.”

“I’ll answer them all.” Guiding her back to the settee, Ashford drew her down beside him. “What have your parents told you?”

“Nothing. They’re acting very mysterious and very uneasy. They haven’t told me anything, other than the fact that you’d be calling on me, that you have things you want to tell me firsthand, and that I might be angry with you over some of those things.”

A rueful nod. “You will be. So let’s get to those things first. When I asked to see your parents in my father’s study, it had nothing to do with finances.”

“That much I guessed.”

Ashford chuckled. “I assumed you would. What I wanted to see them about was you. Noelle, I told them about Baricci, about Sardo, and about your plan.”

Noelle’s jaw dropped. “No wonder they’re so overwrought with worry! Why would you upset them like that—not to mention ruining any chance of our attempting my plan?”

“I did it out of necessity and fear, not betrayal. Something happened the other night. Something your parents probably haven’t allowed you to learn.”

Comprehension dawned. “You’re referring to Lady Mannering’s murder. Mama and Papa tried to keep me from seeing the newspaper. But I read the front page when they weren’t looking.” Noelle saw her answer in Ashford’s eyes. “So you did find out about it while we were at Markham—on the night of the ball, I suspect. And you do think Baricci was involved.”

“You’re amazing.” Ashford seized her hands in his. “Yes. I got word of what had happened during the ball. And, yes, I’m convinced that Baricci was involved. Which changes everything—including the level of danger you’d be exposed to if you continued your association with either Baricci or Sardo.”

Noelle sucked in her breath. “You’re afraid Baricci would harm me? Ashford, that’s absurd. I pose no threat to him. …” Her voice trailed off. “Unless I help expose his guilt,” she finished quietly. “So what are you suggesting? That I just divorce myself from the entire matter? I can’t. What’s more, I won’t.” Her small chin came up. “Tell me this: did you uncover any new information since I left Markham? Are you any closer to exposing Baricci’s illegal dealings?”

“No,” Ashford answered, frustration tightening his jaw. “The son of a bitch covers his tracks like a true predator. I don’t even have any absolute proof that he visited the Mannering house on the night of the theft, much less that he stole the Rembrandt or killed Emily Mannering.”

“Then how do you propose to incriminate him?” Noelle demanded. “Don’t you see that other than his having committed a more severe, more horrible crime, nothing has changed? My plan is still our best hope of unmasking Baricci for the scoundrel he is.”

“I agree.”

On the verge of launching into her next argument, Noelle halted, her mouth snapping shut. “You agree?”

“Yes. That’s what I wanted to see your parents about, or part of what I wanted to see them about. I think we should go ahead with your sittings for Sardo, using this opportunity to pump him for information on his employer. With two modifications, however. One, you won’t be alone with Sardo, and two, Grace won’t be your chaperon. I will.”

“You?” Noelle’s brows shot up. “Ashford, your presence at my sittings would defeat the entire purpose of my plan. André’s not going to lower his guard in the company of a known enemy.”

“He will if he doesn’t see me.” Ashford leaned forward, quickly scanning the room. “That broad window ledge over there …” He pointed. “The one that’s cushioned. It overhangs the entire length behind the sofa. What’s beneath it?”

Startled, Noelle followed his glance. “Why, nothing. Only the carpet. That cushion is where my cat sleeps on sunny mornings.”

“Is he territorial?”

“Who?”

“Your cat.”

“She,” Noelle corrected. “Why? Do you intend to battle her for the ledge?”

“No, I intend to tuck myself beneath it and behind the sofa, which will completely conceal me from view.”

The pieces of Ashford’s strategy fell into place. “You’re going to secretly attend my sittings and eavesdrop on my conversations with André,” Noelle realized aloud.

“
And
keep my eye on you,” Ashford added. “It’s the only way your parents would agree to the idea—and I happen to concur with their decision.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Noelle, I promised them, and myself, that I’d keep you safe.”

“I see.” Noelle nodded slowly. “Very well. I can’t argue that your idea makes sense. And not only in terms of protecting me. Your being here will save us valuable time and afford us valuable insights.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ashford concurred. “This way you won’t have to give me a step-by-step accounting of your talks with Sardo, and we’ll have both our observations from which to form possible conclusions.”

Noelle cast another glance at Ashford’s prospective hiding place. “We can push the sofa even closer to the window ledge. Given its location, André won’t be able to spot you. Especially since he’ll doubtless choose to paint near the broad expanse of windows on the other side of the room. As for Tempest, she’s spirited but generous—at least with those people she considers friends. We’ll just have to ensure she counts you among those chosen few before my first sitting. After which she’ll be happy to share her territory, if not her ledge, with you.”

“Tempest?” Ashford grinned. “Who named your cat? And why was that particular name chosen—or need I ask?”

“You needn’t.” Noelle’s lips curved. “She’s altogether too much like me, and always has been. Given that she was a gift from my parents, it seemed fitting to award her Papa’s nickname for me.”

“What was the occasion?”

“My first Christmas and my fourth birthday.” Noelle’s heart warmed as she remembered that pivotal day in her life—the day she’d officially become Eric and Brigitte’s child. “Tempest was the first thing that had ever truly been mine—not counting my stuffed cat Fuzzy. And Tempest was real. She was only a kitten when Mama and Papa gave her to me. The first thing she did upon being freed from her crate was to upset all our presents and scoot up our Christmas tree.”

A tremulous pause. “I’ll never forget how happy I was. I acquired a home, a pet, and the two most wonderful parents on earth that day. I also acquired the knowledge that I was going to be a sister. Yes, that was a wonderful Christmas. The only one more wonderful was the following one, after Chloe was born. She made our family complete—and inherited Fuzzy in the process. To this day, she keeps him on her dressing table.”

Ashford’s thumb caressed her cheek. “And does Tempest still live up to her name?”

“Oh, yes,” Noelle assured him, blinking moisture from her lashes. “Even at fourteen, she has more energy than any cat I’ve ever seen. I’ll bring her down later, so you two can meet. Which reminds me, you can’t leave without saying hello to my sister. Chloe made me promise her that before I came downstairs. She was thoroughly charmed by you.” A sideways look. “Evidently all women are.”