I narrowed my eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He glanced back, and his expression softened. “I only meant that one doesn’t need to see your face to notice your charms.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. That wasn’t at all what I expected him to say. But Mr. Dorian’s attention was already engaged across the ballroom, and then he muttered a curse.
“Dorian!” A portly man with dark hair called out as he approached us. “I thought that was you.”
“Hello, Buckley,” Mr. Dorian said before gesturing to me. “This is Mrs. Collins.”
Mr. Buckley did a poor job of hiding his curiosity as he leaned towards me. “Collins, is it?”
I nodded in response as Mr. Dorian pulled me closer tohim. “I didn’t know you were a collector,” he remarked, drawing the man’s attention away from me.
“Yes,” Mr. Buckley said. “I’ve been coming to this auction for years. Though I don’t often buy things, of course. The wife will have my head if I come home with any more Roman coins.” He punctuated this with a braying laugh, and Mr. Dorian forced a smile.
“Right. Well, this is my first time. Charles Pearson told me about it, actually,” he added after a beat.
Smart man, I thought.
Mr. Buckley immediately looked stricken. “Ah yes. Poor fellow. I didn’t realize you knew him. Terrible shame. I heard they still haven’t found the culprit.”
I must have tensed, because Mr. Dorian pressed his palm against my arm in a soothing gesture. “No,” he said. “I heard the same. He came here quite often, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Mr. Buckley replied. “He had an excellent eye, Charles did. I would imagine his collection will fetch a pretty price. Do you know what the family intends to do with it all?” he asked, failing to hide his obvious interest.
“I’ve no idea,” Mr. Dorian replied.
The man’s face fell. “A pity. It would be a shame if it was all boxed away somewhere. I should write to his sister. Offer to take it off her hands. For a fair price, of course,” he said with another hoarse laugh.
“Did you happen to hear about Charles selling anything recently?” Mr. Dorian said.
Mr. Buckley frowned as he considered this. “No, not at all. He was very selective when it came to selling things from his own collection. More often, he found things for other people. Charles was very good at that. He knew everyone and could charm anyone.”
“But when he did sell things,” Mr. Dorian pressed, “who might have bought from him?”
“Why, I’ve no idea,” Mr. Buckley said, clearly puzzled by the question. “I’d wager it was another collector like myself. Though they would need far deeper pockets than me.”
“What about any Grecian artifacts?” I said suddenly.
Both men turned to me, curious. Mr. Buckley shook his head. “I haven’t come across anything truly remarkable out of Greece in some time. Not since the government began monitoring the discoveries at archeological sites more closely, anyway. A damned shame, too. If it were up to them, we wouldn’t even have the Elgin Marbles.” Then he glanced around before leaning in. “There was a rumor that someone at the British embassy was deliberately mislabeling artifacts and exporting them here, but they were discovered around the same time the pieces stopped coming in.”
A chill ran down my spine. It was nearly the same accusation Mr. Dorian had made about Oliver. I could feel his heavy gaze upon me, but I couldn’t look at him.
“Did Sir Armstrong-Hughes ever auction off any of these pieces?”
Mr. Buckley gave me a coy smile. “He wouldn’t knowingly sell anything that didn’t have the proper provenance, madame.”
I scoffed. “Isn’t that the whole point of a private auction?”
But the man only laughed. “One thing I will say about Sir Armstrong-Hughes is that he has a mind like a steel trap. And the records to match. If you get on his good side, he might be willing to share them with you. For a price, of course.”
I was just about to ask how much money he thought it would cost, when Mr. Dorian gripped my arm. “Thank you, Buckley.” Then he tugged me away.
“In case you forgot,” he hissed as soon as we were out of earshot, “we are here to ask about Charles Pearson.”
I pulled my arm out of his grip and shot him a glare. “I am aware. I only thought—”
“I know what you’re doing, Minnie,” he said, his tone gentler now. “But this isn’t the time. Nor the place.”
