The Honorable Heir by Laurie Alice Eakes Read Free Book Online Page B

rose and joined her at the window. “I’m scarcely a Scotland Yard detective, my lady. We have a family connection to the current Lord Bisterne, and his father was a friend of my father’s from the time they were in short pants until Baston-Ward’s death a half dozen years ago. Baston-Ward had made some foolish investments that ruined his fortune, and his son tried to recoup those losses through gaming instead of hard work.”
    “A trait of the family,” Catherine murmured.
    Tristram inclined his head in acknowledgment. “Which is why the estate fell into such disrepair.”
    “It isn’t in disrepair now, thanks to my dowry.” A hint of bitterness edged her tone.
    Tristram barely managed to stop himself from reaching out and touching her hand, her elbow, her face in a gesture of comfort. She had made her bed. If Edwin had not been such a profligate in gaming, drink and food consumption, she would still be lying in that bed of neglect after buying her way into the English nobility. Surely she had known the risks, but then, perhaps she had not. She couldn’t have been above eighteen or nineteen years of age when she succumbed to the lure of a title and Bisterne’s charm.
    “You gave a number of people much-needed work.” He offered truth for comfort instead of his touch.
    “But that won’t last. The dowry reverted back to my trust fund principle upon my husband’s death.”
    “Which is where the jewels come in. Bisterne needs to sell them to gain capital enough to continue the estate into a paying prospect.”
    The footman returned with the chime of silver and the rattle of china. Out the window, the snow had turned to freezing rain that pattered against the glass. When the footman departed, the soaring notes of a violin rose in his wake.
    “That’s not Ambrose playing, is it?”
    “That is Estelle. We don’t know where she gets her talent. Mama and even my father and brother can play adequately at the piano, but Estelle’s talent is special.”
    “I hear that.”
    Estelle was playing Vivaldi with a warmth that probably would have pleased the composer. It pleased Tristram, cutting straight to his heart as good music should. With those glorious notes swooping up the staircase, discussing Lady Catherine’s larceny seemed as much a crime as taking someone else’s jewelry.
    “My lady.” His throat felt tight. “I didn’t believe my father when he told me the Bisterne jewels were missing and you were the only person who could have taken them. But I set out to follow you anyway, and found too much evidence to deny the charge.”
    “You are referring to more than the wedding and engagement rings.” Her voice was expressionless, but he could not see her face.
    “Considerably more.” He was growing numb standing so close to the expanse of glass. “Shall we sit?” He could see her better if they faced one another across a coffee service rather than staring into the autumnal gloom side by side.
    Wordlessly, she returned to the sofa, touched her fingertips to the side of the coffeepot and poured them fresh cups. Neither of them drank. They sat in identical poses, their backs too straight to touch the cushions behind them, their gazes fixed somewhere beyond the other’s shoulders.
    Then Catherine blinked twice and met his eyes in a challenge. “So what is this evidence?”
    “You spent the past thirteen months in Italy and France.” He drew up a mental list. “Venice, Rome and Florence. Avignon, Lyon and Paris. In each of those cities, at a jeweler, I found at least one piece of jewelry that I know for a fact had previously been in your possession.”
    * * *
    A lifetime of training kept Catherine’s face expressionless, her teeth clenched together. If she opened her mouth for so much as a sip of coffee, she would probably shriek with hysterical laughter or say something unforgivably rude to Tristram.
    He shifted on his chair, set down his cup and drew a sheaf of papers from an inside pocket of his