“Blast! It isn’t here,” Kingsley muttered, his frustration boiling over as he slammed the drawer shut. “He always keeps anything of value in this desk. I was certain we’d find the money I was meant to take from the girl right here. Hmm, perhaps there is something else of value in there that I could take.”
“You cannot be serious, your lordship!” Harper countered in a hushed whisper. “He would know it was you!”
“Oh? Me, his oldest friend, or the strange woman he has only just met.”
Silence suddenly filled the room, heavy and tense.
Ester, hidden beneath the desk, held her breath, feeling the chill of fear crawl up her spine. Had she been discovered? Then, Kingsley sniggered. It was a sound that made Ester shudder. She’d heard that sound as he had tried to force himself on her. It was cruel and wicked, dripped with malice.
Then came the sound of a brittle clink. “This cameo contains a portrait of his mother. He took it without his father knowing, stole it as a boy. It is priceless to him. Let him blame the Fairchild wench,” Kingsley muttered darkly.
Shock hit Ester like a cold wave and her hand clamped around her mouth.
The sound of hastening footsteps withdrew and the study door clicked shut behind them. Ester remained where she was for a moment longer, curled tightly under the desk, her body trembling. Terrified sobs racked through her now as she gripped the leather satchel in her hands. She had the money, but now they would accuse her of theft.
It would alienate Julian—the only other she had taken into confidence—against her. Molly too. Julian might not insist on Ester’s arrest for theft but he would never trust her again. Would not protect her against Kingsley. The best she could hope for now would be that Kingsley would be content with the money he had asked for, money she now knew was intended to pay off debts. Then Ester would only have her own father to answer to.
He would despise her for stealing from him, but at least the family’s name would remain unscathed. Helen would be able to find a husband, untainted by the scandal that meant Ester would never marry.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Julian pushed open the study door, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. Something felt off. His thoughts lingered on Molly’s fall and the chaotic mess it had caused, as he crossed the room, distracted. It was unlike his house to have such commotion—there hadn’t been any for years, in fact, until Ester’s arrival.
Pausing by the desk, he glanced down and froze. The fifth and last drawer was slightly ajar. His brow furrowed. Had he left it open? A sense of foreboding gripped him as he reached forward and pulled it open a little.
A cursory glance came up fruitless for what his eyes searched for. He hauled out the entire drawer and stacked it on his desk. Still nothing.
Where was it?
Julian’s pulse quickened. He rifled through the papers, heart pounding in his chest now, desperately hoping the trinket had simply slipped beneath the workstuff. But his search revealed only one truth: it wasn’t there. His mother’s cameo portrait, the one he kept hidden away for safekeeping, had vanished.
He sank into his chair, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Maybe he had moved it. He tried to recall, grasping for any explanation that didn’t involve theft. But the gnawing dread only grew.
A sudden, chilling thought struck him then, and he leaned forward, yanking open the third drawer down too. His stomach dropped. The leather satchel of coins—the very one he had narrowly retrieved from the highwayman—was gone as well. He stared at the empty space, disbelief turning into anger.
“Something wrong, old chap?” Kingsley’s voice reached him as he appeared in the doorway.
Julian’s gaze flicked up to the man and his companion, and his mind rummaged through the events of the past ten minutes.
Kingsley and Harper had taken tea in the library while Julian had been occupied with Molly, who had tripped and fallen down a flight of stairs. She seemed fine, with no sign of serious injury. Crammond had scolded her for carelessness at the mess caused but had sent her to the kitchen for a hot, sweet cup of tea to recover, while he tended to the broken crockery himself. Julian had told Molly to take the rest of the afternoon off, showing concern for his servant rather than the breakages. Then hereturned to the study. Now, Kingsley and Harper appeared in the doorway.
Something was amiss.
“Theft,” Julian said, flatly.
His mind raced, unwilling to suspect Ester, yet the coincidence gnawed at him. The stolen money and the cameo? Who else could have had both motive and opportunity?
“What?” Kingsley strode forward, looking at the empty drawers. “What’s been taken? And by whom? By heaven, I’ve hardly seen a soul since I arrived, save for your man Crammond.”
Julian’s jaw tightened as he forced out the words. “…My houseguest.”
“Thevillage girl?”
“My mother’s cameo portrait has been taken,” Julian said tightly. “The cameo itself is ivory and silver. Worth only a few pounds. But it held a great significance to me.”
He kept silent about the missing satchel of coins. That had belonged to Ester. Or had it? The thought had nagged at him since the beginning. It had seemed strange to him that she would be abroad with a satchel full of coin. Perhaps it was stolen. If she were on the run from a crime she had committed, that would explain her behavior. Perhaps it was not a highwayman that hadaccosted her but an accomplice, attempting to double-cross her and keep the loot for himself.
It seemed ludicrous when he thought it of Ester… if that was her real name. She had already lied once about her identity. Julian didn’t want to believe it but could not deny the evidence that seemed to be stacking up against the mysterious woman he had shown nothing but kindness and sincerity since her arrival.
