“I was in by curfew,” he replied piously. “Debauchery requires a considerably greater investment of time.”
“I imagine you would know,” she said politely.
But he didn’t look at all debauched. He looked bursting with vigor, and his face even gleamed from a fresh shave. He’d either done that himself or taken himself off to the barber at an ungodly early hour. She’d seen her own bleary-eyed father at the breakfast table the morning after a particularly exciting party, his hand trembling as he attempted to spoon sugar into his coffee. She knew exactly what excess looked like.
Those faint shadows remained under Mr. Marchand’s eyes, however. She hoped his conscience kept him awake and prodded him with pitchforks.
He cast his gaze upward. “Looks like a pleasant day for vase hunting. You said last night that you always have a plan. So what is your plan?”
She could think of no reason not to tell him. “I thought I would call upon the earl’s solicitor to ask if he knew of any bequests of a vase from the Ming dynasty. I don’t recall seeing any in the copy of the will with which we were provided, but I didn’t memorize it.”
“Mmm. The solicitor. Clever way to start.”
She didn’t know why she felt a surge of satisfaction at his approval.
And then he ruined it. “I know a cleverer way.”
“You’ll save both of us time if you’re not coy about it, Mr. Marchand.”
“Coy?” He was amused. “I know exactly where the vase was last seen.”
She stared at him. “How...”
“A vase fitting that precise description has apparently been seen at the home of a longtime lady friend with whom the late Earl of Highgrove, ah, enjoyed close relations. Her name is Mrs. Henrietta Parker. She, in fact, has many friends in London, all of whom speak highly of her and visit her often, and several recall seeing such a vase there.”
She suspected “longtime lady friend” with whom the late Earl of Highgrove “enjoyed close relations” was a long way of saying “his mistress,” and she could feel a blush coming on. The euphemism was almost worse because all those words gave her more time to picture everything they entailed.
“Shall I assume you spoke with one of her visitors?” she said stiffly.
“Several of her visitors,” he said cheerfully. “Over port last night.
“I know everybody,” he explained almost pityingly, to her stunned silence. “And I was discreet in my inquiries. So no one knows a wayward sister of an earl is on the loose and looking for a vase.”
“Wereyouone of her visitors?” She told herself she asked only because she was curious.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of her acquaintance. She is about seventy years old, about the same age as the late earl when he expired. Lest you begin to feel too optimistic, I’m told she embarked on a trip to Italy some time ago, but was expected to return this month.”
“Whenthis month?”
“I don’t know, Miss Woodville. I made inquiries. I’m not a mage. But we’re now three weeks into the month.”
Then she realized something. “If the late earl gave the vase to her, and she’s sentimental about it, and it is indeed worth hundreds of pounds, I likely don’t have a prayer of getting it from her.” Panic began to creep like toxic smoke under the door of her optimism.
“Come now. Surely, you’re a better negotiator than that. You find out what somebody needs or fears, and you go from there. I thought you were ruthless. Desperate times call for whatever measures will work.”
He issued this startlingly cold-blooded point of view matter-of-factly. As though “need” and “fear” were the sole motivating factors in anyone’s life.
Upon swift reflection, she supposed that wasn’t far from wrong. Hadn’t he identified what she’d needed and feared and used it to try to negotiate her into his bed for one night? Likely, he’d viewed it as giving her something thatshewanted. Quid pro quo.
Nice men did not do that sort of thing.
Safe men did not do that sort of thing.
And yet. She was beginning to get an inkling of how someone might become the kind of person whodiddo that sort of thing.
“If you choose to pursue this avenue, I will accompany you to Mrs. Parker’s home,” he said. “As it’s not St. James’s Square, the possibility of being stabbed or abducted is marginally higher.” He said this dryly. But one never knew.
She noticed he was not asking her whether she wouldliketo be accompanied.
