“I’m not saying Miss Bastian is anything like her companion, but I feel you should be aware of this, nonetheless.”
“What, Nickerson?” Ashton raised his voice slightly.
“Mrs. Browning told me that a few years ago, she witnessed Mrs. Phelps steal a painting from an estate. The woman was never arrested even though Mrs. Browning told the police about it.”
“So.” Ashton shrugged. “That was a few years ago. I’m sure Mrs. Phelps has changed since then, or she wouldn’t be working for Miss Bastian’s father right now.”
“Ashton,” Steve growled in low tones, “would you pull your head out of the clouds and think about this for a moment?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Miss Bastian is a close acquaintance with a thief. You spotted Miss Bastian and another man on the railway...the very railway that is being robbed, let me remind you. Miss Bastian hasn’t allowed you to meet her family or tell you where she lives. You have even suspected something was not right with her.” He shook his head. “Can’t you see? She searched you out at the masked ball and had gotten to know you—and only you. Doesn’t this mean anything?”
Ashton fisted his hands as he gritted his teeth. True, things were not stacking in Nicole’s favor, but she couldn’t be the thief they and the police were looking for. Could she?
“I don’t know,” he muttered softly, raking his fingers through his hair. “There is really no proof, just a lot of circumstances.”
Glynn rested his hand on Ashton’s shoulder. “Don’t you see what she’s doing?” He continued to speak low. “She has got you under her spell. This is what she does to men, I’m certain of it. I’ve never seen you so love-struck, and Larson and I think it’s because she is purposely trying to charm you, so you don’t suspect her.”
Bitterness coated Ashton’s tongue, and betrayal gnawed a hole in his heart. He squeezed his eyes closed. Although he didn’t want to believe, his friends did have a valid point. Ashton hated to feel weak, and that emotion washed over him in buckets right now.
He took a deep breath and looked back at his friends. “What do you suggest I do about it?”
“Just be more careful around her,” Glynn said.
Rolling his eyes, Ashton released a gush of irritated air between his teeth. “And what about tonight? Don’t you think she is going to become curious as to why I’m suddenly distant?”
“Don’t be distant.” Steve shook his head. “Don’t let her think you suspect her of anything.”
“And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that after what you have just told me?”
“Pretend.” Glynn grinned. “Men do it all the time when they are with women.”
Not often was Ashton privileged to see Steve Larson grin, but he did so now—and even chuckled a little at Nickerson’s comment.
Taking a deep breath, Ashton steeled himself for the performance of a lifetime and turned back to Nicole. Worry etched the lines on her forehead and made her brown eyes dull. As he walked back to her, his heart tried to argue with his mind. Nicole couldn’t be the thief they were after. She was too innocent, naïve, and much too sweet. Unless, of course, that was all an act.
When he reached the sofa, she gave him a smile. “Is everything all right?” she asked, her gaze bouncing between him and the other two men still standing in the corner of the room.
“Yes, of course.” Ashton tried to relax and smile, even though his insides were jumping with anger, distrust, but mostly doubt. He motioned his head toward his partners. “We were just talking about the railway. It’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.” He placed his hand on her arm. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Much better, thank you.” She moved her attention to the two other women nearby. “I have just been getting acquainted with Mrs. Browning and Mrs. Larson.”
“Splendid.” Ashton tried smiling wider. His mind scrambled for what to say next, but no thoughts came to him. Of course, it didn’t help that confusion filled his head as unanswered questions swam inside, making him think of nothing but that. Was she really a thief—or at least in cohorts with the true thief? He honestly didn’t think she could pull off a railway robbery all on her own. Yet if her companion, Mrs. Phelps, was still in the stealing business, she would make a great partner for Nicole.
“Miss Bastian,” Steve’s voice boomed in the room, “tell me about your family. You mentioned you lived here in Liverpool, correct?”
Nicole’s focus moved to Larson and her brows creased for a moment as she studied him. Slowly, she nodded. “Uh, yes. I did tell Mr. Nickerson and Mrs. Browning in the carriage ride here that I have lived in Liverpool for about six months. My uncle and aunt live in Meols, and I visit them on a regular basis.”
“I wonder if I know your family.” Steve scratched the small patch of hair on his chin that substituted for a beard.
“You might. Michael Thornock is my uncle, and his wife is Anita. They have one daughter, Emily. My uncle owns a small shipping line.”
“Hmm...” Steve nodded. “I think I have seen him a time or two.”
Her face relaxed. “Perhaps you have.”
“And who are your parents?” Glynn asked, standing back by the liquor tray as he poured himself a glass of brandy. “I don’t believe you have mentioned them.”
“Well, my mother died when I was young, and I doubt you know my father.” Nicole shrugged. “He doesn’t usually stay at one job for very long before moving to the next.”
Glynn sipped his drink before asking, “Well, tell me his name, and I’ll tell you if I know him.”
