Page 76 of Love, the Duke
A walk?He tensed. They had just walked to Hyde Park and back, and all around the fair too. It was more likely she’d gone to see the baron. Hurst would bet money on it.
His heartbeat thudded faster. “Did she have anything with her?” he asked.Perhaps men’s clothing and a wig.
“Only a shawl that I saw and Mrs. Turner so she wouldn’t be alone.”
That she had someone with her was a relief. “Good.”
“Please tell me if something is wrong, Your Grace. I might be able to help.”
“No need for you to worry about anything, Mrs. Stowe. As soon as I find her, we’ll talk and take care of everything.”
Hurst turned to leave but quickly swung back when he caught a glimpse of the book beside her. Impatient, he asked, “Do you mind if I look at the book you were holding?”
“Of course not.” She handed the copy ofDebrett’s Peerage and Baronetageto him. “I was looking through it again, hoping to find something we might have missed on the many other times we looked at it.”
“I’m glad if it was helpful,” he said absently, and quickly thumbed through the pages and found what he was looking for. With a few tweaks, the coat of arms for the baron’s family would look somewhat like one of the crests Ophelia sketched.
A cold realization settled over Hurst. Mrs. Turner was right. Ophelia was right. Dowager Stonerick’s superstitious friend was right. He laid the book on the setteebeside Mrs. Stowe and saw the registry Ophelia hadborrowedfrom the church. Memory flashed that he hadn’t seen the baron’s name in that book. Maybe he’d missed it because he’d been so caught up in finding his cousin’s signature there.
He picked it up and slowly ran a finger down the names again, but the baron’s name wasn’t in the registry. If he was the titled man they were looking for, he must have used an alias, which was the right thing to do if he was planning on stealing something.
He returned the books to Mrs. Stowe. “Thank you. You have been most helpful tonight.”
Mrs. Stowe gave him a wistful smile. “Have I?”
“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. You have helped me many times in life.”
“That warms my heart, Your Grace. I want to be helpful, but Ophelia likes to do everything herself.”
“I don’t know how to reasonably explain this, but I knew that about her the first time we met, yet it seems I keep having to learn it over and over again.”
“That makes perfect sense to me.”
Hurst smiled and then headed toward the door calling, “Gilbert, I need my carriage immediately. And find the footman Mr. Mallord for me. Tell him I need him to come with me too!”
Only a few minutes later, Hurst was sitting in Lord Gagingcliffe’s drawing room wondering where Ophelia was. She’d left home in plenty of time to make it to the baron’s house before Hurst. He had halfway expected to find her dressed as a man chatting with the baron when he arrived, as she had been with Mr. Wilbur Sawyer at his sporting club meeting. Could it be that she had actually gone for a walk as she’d told her mother?
Lord Gagingcliffe’s walls were adorned excessivelywith paintings. Most were hung with limited space between the heavy frames, as if the baron wanted to be sure he’d impress anyone who crossed the threshold of his domain with his many exhibits of artworks.
At present, it was the Duke of Hurstbourne he was trying to impress.
While the baron poured two glasses of spirits, Hurst gave the drawing room a deliberate study. Through conversation he’d have to come up with a reason to be invited into the book room since that is the place Ophelia was certain the chalice would be.
The vastness of the collection bordered on obsessiveness. The men of nobility he knew boasted about increasing their landholdings, not procuring artwork. But there was no crime displaying a large painting or two in one’s drawing room. Perhaps eclectic, but not normal. The man certainly had more than the average home or estate.
A small tabletop was used for a chess set and the fireplace’s marble mantel exhibited a clock one would expect in a home of this stature.
Even so, the room piqued Hurst’s interest. Was there a gold chalice in all this clutter somewhere? Was it in the book room or not here at all?
Ophelia wanted to believe the church’s sacrament cup was in Lord Gagingcliffe’s possession. But she had come to her wit’s end with precious little time left and no other suspect. Pinning the crime on Gagingcliffe made for an easy mark for her. Even though her certainty came only from the dowager duchess’ single name written on parchment.
The baron happily handed Hurst a crystal glass, the older man’s face eager with prospect and wonder. “I’m honored to have you in my home, Your Grace. To what pleasure may I pray have you come to see me?”
Hurst’s pre-planned fabrication came easily as the baron had set it up a few days ago when he’d stopped by Hurst’s table at White’s. “As you indicated not too long ago, Mr. Wilber Sawyer wants to join my sporting club, the Brass Deck. I remembered you know him well. Since we are getting ready to make our selections, I thought to ask your opinion of his suitability for fitting in with our group.”
Flattery raised his brows as the baron replied, “I do know him from a card club where we are both members. I’ve always favored Sawyer as a good chap.”
“I’ve thought so myself but given my limited knowledge it’s prudent to hear all perspectives when possible.”
