Gerrard—can you give us a reason why someone might want to scare Mrs. Chadwick?”
To his credit, Gerrard didn’t rush into speech; he frowned as he set his plate down, then shook his head slowly as he sat. “I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want to make Mrs. Chadwick screech.” He grimaced at the memory. “But”—he flicked a grateful glance at Vane—“I did wonder if the fright was incidental and the person at the door was really the thief.”
The suggestion made all at the table think—after a moment, Henry nodded. “Could be—indeed, why not?”
“Regardless,” Whitticombe put in, “I can’t conceive who this thief could be either.” His tone made it clear he still suspected Gerrard.
Vane directed a mildly questioning glance at Gerrard.
Encouraged, Gerrard shrugged. “I can’t see what any of us would want with all the knickknacks and fripperies that have disappeared.”
The General gave one of his distinguishing snorts. “Perhaps because they’re fripperies? Just the sort of things to woo a flighty maid with, heh?” His penetrating stare again fixed on Gerrard.
Ready color rose to Gerrard’s cheeks.
“Not guilty! On my honor, I swear it!”
The words came in ringing tones from the doorway. They all looked around—on the threshold, Edmond stood poised in the attitude of a supplicant pleading for justice from the bench. He broke from his pose; grinning, he bowed, then straightened and loped to the sideboard. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I feel obliged to puncture that fantasy. None of the maids here would accept such tokens of esteem—the staff have all been alerted to the thefts. And as for the surrounding villages”—he paused dramatically and rolled an anguished eye at Vane—“ believe me , there’s not a likely miss within a day’s ride!”
Vane hid his grin behind his coffee cup; over the rim, he met Gerrard’s laughing eyes.
The sound of briskly swishing skirts drew all eyes to the door. Patience appeared in the doorway. Chairs scraped as they all made to rise. She waved them back. Pausing on the threshold, she swiftly scanned the room, her gaze fixing at the last on Gerrard. And his affectionate smile.
Vane noticed the way Patience’s breasts rose and fell, noticed the light blush in her cheeks. She’d been scurrying.
She blinked, then, with a general nod, headed for the sideboard.
Vane redirected the conversation to matters less fraught.
“The Northants Hunt is the nearest,” Henry replied to his question.
At the sideboard, Patience forced herself to breathe deeply while absentmindedly filling her plate. She’d intended to wake early and be here in time to protect Gerrard. Instead, she’d slept in, drained by escalating worry, followed by unsettling dreams. The other ladies generally took breakfast on trays in their chambers, a habit to which she’d never subscribed. Ears tuned to the rumble of conversation behind her, she heard Vane’s lazy drawl and felt her skin prickle. She frowned.
She knew the male members of the household too well—there was no possiblity they’d omitted to mention last night’s contretemps, nor that they hadn’t, in one way or another, accused Gerrard of it. But he was clearly unperturbed, which could mean only one thing. For whatever reason, Vane Cynster had taken up the cudgels in her stead and deflected the household’s unreasoning suspicions of Gerrard. Her frown deepened as she heard Gerrard’s voice, youthful enthusiasm ringing as he described a nearby ride.
Eyes widening, Patience picked up her plate and whirled. She advanced on the table, to the chair beside Gerrard. Masters drew it out and held it while she sat.
Gerrard turned to her. “I was just telling Vane that Minnie kept the best of Sir Humphrey’s hunters. And the rides hereabouts are quite reasonable.”
His eyes glowed with a light Patience hadn’t seen in them before. Smiling, he turned back to Vane. Her heart sinking, Patience looked
To his credit, Gerrard didn’t rush into speech; he frowned as he set his plate down, then shook his head slowly as he sat. “I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want to make Mrs. Chadwick screech.” He grimaced at the memory. “But”—he flicked a grateful glance at Vane—“I did wonder if the fright was incidental and the person at the door was really the thief.”
The suggestion made all at the table think—after a moment, Henry nodded. “Could be—indeed, why not?”
“Regardless,” Whitticombe put in, “I can’t conceive who this thief could be either.” His tone made it clear he still suspected Gerrard.
Vane directed a mildly questioning glance at Gerrard.
Encouraged, Gerrard shrugged. “I can’t see what any of us would want with all the knickknacks and fripperies that have disappeared.”
The General gave one of his distinguishing snorts. “Perhaps because they’re fripperies? Just the sort of things to woo a flighty maid with, heh?” His penetrating stare again fixed on Gerrard.
Ready color rose to Gerrard’s cheeks.
“Not guilty! On my honor, I swear it!”
The words came in ringing tones from the doorway. They all looked around—on the threshold, Edmond stood poised in the attitude of a supplicant pleading for justice from the bench. He broke from his pose; grinning, he bowed, then straightened and loped to the sideboard. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I feel obliged to puncture that fantasy. None of the maids here would accept such tokens of esteem—the staff have all been alerted to the thefts. And as for the surrounding villages”—he paused dramatically and rolled an anguished eye at Vane—“ believe me , there’s not a likely miss within a day’s ride!”
Vane hid his grin behind his coffee cup; over the rim, he met Gerrard’s laughing eyes.
The sound of briskly swishing skirts drew all eyes to the door. Patience appeared in the doorway. Chairs scraped as they all made to rise. She waved them back. Pausing on the threshold, she swiftly scanned the room, her gaze fixing at the last on Gerrard. And his affectionate smile.
Vane noticed the way Patience’s breasts rose and fell, noticed the light blush in her cheeks. She’d been scurrying.
She blinked, then, with a general nod, headed for the sideboard.
Vane redirected the conversation to matters less fraught.
“The Northants Hunt is the nearest,” Henry replied to his question.
At the sideboard, Patience forced herself to breathe deeply while absentmindedly filling her plate. She’d intended to wake early and be here in time to protect Gerrard. Instead, she’d slept in, drained by escalating worry, followed by unsettling dreams. The other ladies generally took breakfast on trays in their chambers, a habit to which she’d never subscribed. Ears tuned to the rumble of conversation behind her, she heard Vane’s lazy drawl and felt her skin prickle. She frowned.
She knew the male members of the household too well—there was no possiblity they’d omitted to mention last night’s contretemps, nor that they hadn’t, in one way or another, accused Gerrard of it. But he was clearly unperturbed, which could mean only one thing. For whatever reason, Vane Cynster had taken up the cudgels in her stead and deflected the household’s unreasoning suspicions of Gerrard. Her frown deepened as she heard Gerrard’s voice, youthful enthusiasm ringing as he described a nearby ride.
Eyes widening, Patience picked up her plate and whirled. She advanced on the table, to the chair beside Gerrard. Masters drew it out and held it while she sat.
Gerrard turned to her. “I was just telling Vane that Minnie kept the best of Sir Humphrey’s hunters. And the rides hereabouts are quite reasonable.”
His eyes glowed with a light Patience hadn’t seen in them before. Smiling, he turned back to Vane. Her heart sinking, Patience looked
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