Kincaid gave a clipped nod. “Yes. Given the ring’s value, that is my working theory. I believe it is an heirloom that the family never had any plan of giving up or else they wouldn’t have gone to such pains to retrieve it after more than two decades.”
“Fascinating,” said Sterling. “Absolutely fascinating. But you’ve had no leads?”
“None.”
“Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“I just find it interesting that you’ve hit such a wall when ordinarily you’re quite good at all this detective business.” Sterling drummed his fingers on the edge of the table. “Is it because you’ve genuinely exhausted all possibilities, or you secretly want your American to remain in London for as long as possible?”
“If you call her that again, I’m going to pick up this tankard and bash you over the head with it,” Kincaid threatened.
Sterling clucked his tongue. “Striking one duke is an isolated incident, but striking two is the beginning of a pattern. Should I tell the Duke of Avalon to be on the lookout?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If he’s as big of an arse as you.”
There weren’t many people in London, or all of Great Britain, for that matter, who would dare deliver such an insult to a man of Sterling’s station. But he didn’t appear insulted. If anything, he looked amused.
“That’s a crown I wear alone, I’m afraid.”
“If I could find the ring and send Joanna home on the next ship bound for Boston, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Maybe if he said it out loud, Kincaid thought, it would make it true. “But if the ring is being held by a family of great means, I haven’t the resources to root it out.”
“Which is where I come in, I suppose.” A dark wave of hair slid across Sterling’s brow as his head canted to the side. “A ruby in the shape of a heart, you said?”
“Surrounded by diamonds.”
“It should be unusual enough to stand out. And the initials inscribed on the band?”
“JW.”
“That narrows it down some.”
“But not enough,” said Kincaid.
“No,” Sterling concurred. “Not enough. If only the name James wasn’t so damned popular. And the W could refer to either a surname or a title.”
Kincaid had come to the same deduction. “Short of stealing into every manor in Grosvenor Square under the cover of darkness, I’ve no way to ascertain the ring’s whereabouts. But you rub elbows with thetonevery day.”
“Don’t remind me,” Sterling grimaced. “As it happens, there’s a ball coming up at the end of the week. A prestigious affair to celebrate the Countess of Beresford’s seventieth birthday. Her gout has rendered her unable to travel, which means thetonwill be flocking in en masse from their country estates. I can get you in invitation, if you’d like.”
Kincaid’s gaze sharpened behind his spectacles. “It’s expected to be well attended?”
“Everyone who is anyone will be there,” the duke confirmed.
Which meant that Kincaid might not get a better opportunity to discover the identity of the elusive JW and the whereabouts of the ring before the London Season resumed in January. Five months from now. His teeth gnashed together. He couldn’t have Joanna here for five more months. He didn’t even want her here for five moredays. His self-control was already hanging by a thread. Another encounter like the one in his office, and it would snap entirely.
Then all hell would break loose.
Sweet, sweet hell.
The kind a man wouldn’t mind burning in.
“I’ll take that invitation.” Pushing his chair back, he rose to his feet and reached for his coat. “I need this finished.”
