***
As soon as Gareth heard the horses, he knew Ives had not come alone. He opened the door to see two stallions galloping up the lane. The riders reined in and dismounted.
“Lance insisted on coming,” Ives said. “He decided an adventure was at hand, and town was boring him.”
From the looks of things, Lance hoped for a violent adventure. Three pistols and a musket were tied to his saddle. After a nod of greeting, he set about removing them. One by one he threw the pistols to Gareth, then carried the musket to the door. “You told him to leave his law books behind. I know what that means, even if he pretends he does not.” He passed into the house.
Harold took the pistols out of Gareth’s hands. “I’ll be cleaning these, sir. But first I will ride to the village and inform the inn that two chambers are now needed, not one.”
“Good man.” He had confided the basics to Harold, whose reaction to the kidnapping had been fierce and dramatic. Such things did not occur in peaceful English villages.
“The lady will stay again tonight, sir?”
“Until her sister returns, she will remain here.”
Gareth went to the library. Ives already lounged on the divan. Lance prowled the first level, peering through doorways, taking stock of the property. “It is better than I remember. As a boy I found this place old and musty, but now it seems comfortable enough,” he said on joining them.
“You should have seen it two months ago,” Gareth said. “Even the roof was not sound.”
“It is only comfortable because Gareth has been making those improvements I told you about,” Ives said.
“Better to spend the blunt that way than on bloodsucking lawyers,” Lance said. “Nothing personal meant by that, Ives.”
“Apologies accepted.”
Lance threw himself into one of the chairs and gazed up at the ceiling moldings. “It is just as well that I never favored this lodge. Otherwise, what with the good hunting land attached, I might be tempted to—”
“Which you will not be, however, having already told the solicitor to drop the matter,” Ives said.
It was the first Gareth had heard of that. Under different circumstances, he would have celebrated. Today, with Eva remaining invisible and with Rebecca in danger, he only reacted with allowing a corner of his soul to know some contentment that he was officially a man of property.
Gareth brought out port and brandy and told them to help themselves. “Before you ask, there is only one servant, and he is taking care of your guns and horses.”
“I’m not above doing for myself.” Lance poured himself a good measure of port. “So, whom are we going to kill?”
Ives closed his eyes and shook his head. “No one, I am sure.”
“Hopefully, no one,” Gareth corrected. That got their attention.
First he explained the discovery of the paintings, and Eva’s unwitting involvement in the production of the forgeries. A long silence greeted the end of that half of the tale.
“If that stationer Stevenson sold some to families in Birmingham, we must get the names, and contact them for the particulars of those sales,” Ives said. “That will prove neither he nor Miss Russell attempted to pass off her works as originals.”
“My thinking exactly,” Gareth said.
“No one has asked my opinion,” Lance began. “However—”
“We knew we could count on you to give it anyway,” Ives said.
“As I will. Not that either of you needs me to point out that it is essential to find the rest of the stolen works now. Otherwise, Gareth here becomes a convenient target of accusations. We have enough of that already, so it would be best all around if any revelation he has been in possession of a third of those works comes at the same time my fellow lords are celebrating the return of all of them.”
“Not that we have any doubts about you, of course,” Ives said to Gareth.
“None at all,” Lance said. “Of course.”
“The lady, however—” Ives’s eyebrows rose.
“She is telling the truth. I know her and she was ignorant from beginning to end,” Gareth said.
