“What has Gibby done now?” Blake asked, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his chair on its back legs.
“Gibby?” Race questioned.
“Isn’t he the reason you summoned us here?” Morgan asked.
For a brief moment, Race had forgotten they didn’t know why he sent word for them to meet him here in this quiet and exclusive gentlemen’s club not far from White’s. He supposed he would have to tell Gib about the stolen pearls too, though he dreaded it. Gibby had always idolized their grandmother and he didn’t like anyone saying or doing anything to disturb her memory.
Race brushed an imaginary crumb from the table and then sat back in his chair. Issuing an audible sigh, he said, “No, Gib is not the reason I wanted to see you.”
“What else could have you looking so glum?” Blake asked as the server put two glasses on the table in front of them and poured wine into both.
“Leave the bottle,” Race said.
Morgan grinned. “This must be serious. You look like you’ve lost your two best and only friends, and we know that can’t be true because here we sit right in front of you.”
“I didn’t lose my friends,” Race said flatly. “I lost something else. My safe was robbed last night.”
“What?” his cousins said in unison as the front legs of Blake’s chair hit the floor with a thud.
“The contents of my safe were cleaned out last night, including Grandmother’s pearls.”
“Damnation,” Blake said.
“Bloody hell,” Morgan whispered. “What the devil happened? Did no one in the house hear the thief breaking in?”
“Was it one of your servants?”
“I don’t think so,” Race said quietly, looking from one cousin to the other. “No one had to break in. The back door was left unlocked.”
“I hope you turned off the bloody servant who was careless enough to do that,” Blake said.
“Unfortunately, I’m the one who left the door unlocked.”
“You?” Morgan questioned.
Race nodded.
Blake shrugged. “Locking up is one of the reasons we have servants. I know they are all careless at times. That’s just the way of it. It’s not your fault. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We expect our homes to be sacrosanct.”
“The thief must be a servant,” Morgan argued. “There can’t be that many people who know where your safe is located or how to get into it. I’d venture to say that most of your servants know.”
“All the servants had already been dismissed for the night when I went out the back door and left it unlocked.”
“And someone just happened to know you left the door unlocked?” Blake questioned.
Morgan rubbed his temple and studied over that comment. “I agree. That seems a bit far-fetched to me, unless someone has been watching your house, just waiting for it to be vulnerable.”
“Wait. Something’s not right,” Blake said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Why do I get the feeling there is something more to this story than you are telling us?”
“Like who knew you would be going out and leaving it unlocked?” Morgan asked.
“A woman?” Blake said, catching on to Morgan’s line of thinking.
“Maybe Susannah?” Morgan offered.
Blake’s forehead wrinkled. “The duchess? How?”
Race remained quiet.
