Could they have fallen out of his pocket at Park Lane? Mightn’t he have dropped them in the carriage? “Quickly, Loftus. Go and find Knapp and have him search the carriage at once. I’ve lost a valuable pair of ruby earrings, and I must have them back.”
Loftus’s eyes widened. “Yes, Your Grace!”
Unless . . . no, they weren’t in the carriage, because they’d been in his pocket when he entered Basingstoke’s study. Yes, he distinctly remembered slipping his hand into his pocket to check while Miss Thorne was scolding him about his absence at dinner.
The chaise. Of course! They were likely even now buried in the cushions of Basingstoke’s villainous chaise!
That cursed chaise had swallowed his earrings!
They must have slipped from his pocket when he stripped off his cravat, coat and waistcoat and threw them on the chaise. Careless, that. It wasn’t quite as bad as laziness, but not far off. Good Lord, perhaps his grandfather was right about him.
“Wait, Loftus!” He pushed the tea tray aside and leapt from the bed. “Where are you going, man? Come back here at once!”
“Yes, of course, Your Grace!” Loftus rushed from the bedchamber door back to the bed, panting. “What can I do, Your Grace?”
“Help me dress, then find Knapp and have him ready the carriage. I must pay a visit to Basingstoke.”
CHAPTER5
Jasper didn’t knock when he arrived at Park Lane, but slipped stealthily through the front door, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see Trevor lurking in his usual corner.
A good man, Trevor, but he was rather a stickler for order and would insist on announcing Jasper’s arrival, and he didn’t want Basingstoke looming over his shoulder and demanding to know what he was looking for as Jasper rifled through the chaise cushions.
So, he sidled down the hallway that led to the study like a proper thief, pausing once to glance over his shoulder, but it was well past calling hours, and the house appeared quiet.
At last, some luck. He’d just nip in, find the earrings, and nip back out again without Basingstoke ever knowing he’d been there. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain those earrings to Basingstoke, who was sure to preach at him until blood seeped out of Jasper’s ears.
Lectures, he didn’t need.
Basingstoke had never been one of Selina’s admirers, though he’d been a touch more tolerant of her than Grantham, who thought her a viper of the first order, and made himself quite a nuisance about it, too.
Not that Grantham had been wrong. Perhaps Jasper would even admit that someday, after the sting of his own stupidity had faded somewhat, but for now, the fewer details his friends knew about his disastrous liaison with Selina, the better.
Now, if only Basingstoke wasn’t lurking in his study, all would be—
“Montford!” Grantham was lounging in front of Basingstoke’s desk, a glass of brandy in his hand. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen you. Where have you been hiding yourself? I’d begun to think you’d left London for your country estate.”
“Well, Montford, here you are at last.” Basingstoke looked Jasper up and down, one eyebrow raised. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all day for you to come and beg my pardon for missing dinner last night.”
Damn it. Couldn’t a man sneak into another man’s private study without every duke in London knowing of it? Here were both foxes at once, and the hen house stuffed to the rafters with scandalous rubies. “Beg pardon, Basingstoke. I lost track of time, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, very well.” Basingstoke glanced behind him, into the corridor. “What’s become of Trevor?”
“I haven’t the vaguest idea. He wasn’t in the entryway.” Jasper strode across the room and dropped into one of the chairs in front of Basingstoke’s desk, taking great care not to betray himself with even a single glance at the chaise.
“This is rather an odd time for a call, isn’t it?” Basingstoke fetched another glass from the tray on his desk, poured out a measure of brandy, and handed it to Jasper.
“I don’t see what’s so odd about it.” Jasper tipped the glass to his lips and drained the brandy in one swallow. “Grantham’s here, isn’t he?”
“I came earlier.” Grantham eyed Jasper’s empty glass. “Thirsty, Montford? Or is something troubling you? Don’t tell me Lady Selina is still tormenting you.”
“Selina?” Jasper turned to Grantham, startled. He’d broken with Selina more than a month ago, so why was Grantham asking about hernow?
Unless . . . oh, no. Had Basingstoke found the earrings? Had he and Grantham been sitting here discussing them? Good Lord, he hoped not, because there was no explanation for those portraits that didn’t make him look like an utter fool. “Why, er . . . why are you so curious about Selina all of a sudden?”
Grantham snorted. “I wouldn’t say curious. Suspicious, yes. Wary, certainly. Downright dubious, absolutely.”
Basingstoke gave Grantham a warning shake of his head. “We’re only curious about her insofar as she pertains toyou, Montford. She may go to the devil, otherwise. But you look a bit green about the gills, much as you did when she was pulling your strings.”
