“That’s between you and Lord Westerly, not me.” Nate extracted the red-silk pouch from his drawer, opened it, and tipped Madam Bouffant’s brooch onto the table.
Lord and Lady Eamont fell instantly silent. For a moment, at least. Until Lord Eamont appeared to find his voice once more.
“Where did you get that?” Lord Eamont spluttered as his ears turned beet red.
“Your daughter, Miss Adelia, gave it to Miss De Lacey.”
Lady Eamont remained quiet and shifted in her chair.
Her husband didn’t appear to notice. “Adelia? Why would she do that? Where did she get it?” he asked weakly.
“She claims that Lady Eamont stole it from Madam Bouffant’s chamber after she died. Adelia found it hidden under a chair cushion in her mother’s room. And she took it and gave it to Miss De Lacey. I’m not sure why.”
“Stole it?” Lady Eamont exploded then, ignoring everything Nate had said about her daughter. “I have no need to steal what is mine, sir!”
Meanwhile, Lord Eamont had gone deathly pale and as silent as he had been in the hours after Madam Bouffant’s demise.
“Yours?” Nate placed the brooch back in its silk bag.
“Mine.” Lady Eamont’s jaw was so tightly Nate wondered how she could speak at all. “Now give it to me.” She stretched out her open palm.
Nate hesitated.
“My husband paid for it, so it belongs to me. Now hand it over!”
Nate glanced at Lord Eamont, who sat silently, tightly clutching his brandy.
“Mr. Squires! Do you see this ring?” She turned her hand over and flashed the matching ring she wore over her glove. “It’s part of a set, purchased for me by my husband. Now, give me that brooch.” She held out her other hand, palm up.
Her husband shifted beside her. “It’s true,” Lord Eamont said in a low voice. “I purchased that brooch for my wife as part of a set.”
Nate had expected such a reaction from Lord Eamont, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. “I’m sorry, my lord. It’s just that we all saw Madam Bouffant wearing this brooch on more than one occasion.”
“What you saw must have been a cheap copy she picked up in the theater,” Lady Eamont snapped. “Actresses always have costume jewelry.”
“Well, where do you suppose that brooch is now?”
“How should I know? Perhaps one of your servants stole it. Weboth know my ring was stolen and then replanted in my room, so you could cover for your servants.”
Nate pursed his lips. He couldn’t argue with that accusation. Or rather, he decided, he wouldn’t.
“Honestly,” Lady Eamont continued, “I think Lord Eamont should have a word with your brother about what’s been going on in this establishment of yours. If people hear that they are treated like common criminals at your inn and accused of all sorts, then I am certain no one will deign to come here.”
Lord Eamont hung his head in apparent resignation.
“I’m waiting!” Lady Eamont said, her hand still outstretched to receive the brooch. She wiggled her fingers.
Nate nodded reluctantly and dropped the silk pouch in Lady Eamont’s palm. He had his answer. She’d stolen the brooch just as Adelia had claimed, but that didn’t prove she’d pushed Madam Bouffant down the stairs, and even if she had done so, what could he or anyone else do about it? Madam Bouffant was a courtesan.
Lady Eamont was a viscountess.
The magistrate had ruled Madam Bouffant’s death an accident. That was the end of it.
Bridget would have to drop her desire to find out the truth lest she wanted to see Villa De Lacey destroyed. One word from Lord Eamont and his brother would slash his allowance. And with Villa De Lacey’s reputation in ruins, he wouldn’t be able to keep the place afloat. He’d be stuck, living in a crumbling ruin for the next seven years.
Nate sighed. He doubted Bridget would understand. She was adamant that Madam Bouffant had been murdered and was determined to find the killer, something he couldn’t help but wonder had to do with her need for justice for her father. The man had died by his own hand, but who was really to blame? Edward, that’s who.
In the end, the aristocracy always won, and it would be no different this time.
