but Matty wasn’t watching him. She’d managed to pick up a catalogue in the entrance hall and was scanning it for what her father used to call Cinderella pieces.
‘If you’re lucky,’ her father once said, ‘there’ll be at least one in every auction. Something that may be neglected, unnoticed—but it could turn out to be the best of the bunch!’
Her father had found the Roman coin close by the canal at Aylesbury some fifty miles north-west of London. The coin was gone, thanks to Matty’s unforgivable carelessness—and if she was to reach her father’s lost treasure site and make amends for losing the coin, she would need money to travel there. She’d thought fleetingly of finding a buyer for her Celtic brooches, but dismissed the thought. I will not be parted from any more of my father’s treasures. So she’d sold a pair of copper cooking pots she never used to Bess, who’d always admired them, and she had Bess’s coins in her pocket now. She was praying there would be a Cinderella piece for her today, so she could make enough money for her journey. She needed some luck—she really did.
It was then that she realised two latecomers were being ushered in, much to the annoyance of those who had to move out of their way. And Matty’s pulse suddenly raced, because, my goodness, there was no mistaking the first of the latecomers, with his dark, unruly hair and his casual arrogance.
Jack Rutherford. Even now, as if completely unaware of the disruption his arrival had caused, he was chatting to his companion, an elegant woman in a green gown and matching pelisse, who was laughing merrily at whatever he was saying while resting her gloved hand on his arm.
So his shop might be closed, but he still took a lively interest in the antiques trade—even though he didn’t know the difference between ancient Chinese pottery and earthenware made in Stoke! Matty frowned. He looked considerably smarter than when she’d seen him last, for he was wearing a dark coat, a starched cravat and polished boots. But there was still something about him—perhaps it was those angular cheekbones and the hint of blue-black shadow already darkening his jaw—that caused the other men in here to gaze at him with some suspicion.
Matty, too, couldn’t tear her eyes from him. My coin, she was thinking. Did he find my coin? She wanted to make her way over and tackle him right now, but she would have to wait, because the auctioneer was banging his gavel for attention and the sale was about to begin. A hush fell over the room.
‘For our first item, ladies and gentlemen,’ called the auctioneer from the stage, ‘we have some very fine English silverware! Seventeenth century and of exceptional quality!’
Normally Matty was fascinated by antiques, but today she couldn’t concentrate and it was, of course, because of that man—she could see him from the corner of her eye, exchanging whispered comments with the woman in green as one item after another went under the hammer. Her mind wandered, especially since there was nothing here she could afford—all the items for sale, from eighteenth-century watercolours to alabaster statuettes, were far too expensive for her. Then, suddenly, she caught her breath.
Because the auctioneer was holding up something small but gleaming bright. ‘Here we have a rarity indeed, ladies and gentlemen!’ he was calling out. ‘This is a last-minute but welcome addition to our sale today. A rather fine Roman coin...’
It was hers. She knew it was hers. She found her eyes flying to Jack Rutherford and saw that his gaze, too, was fixed on that coin. The woman at his side had tightened her hand on his arm and was watching also.
The auctioneer was describing the coin with relish. ‘Now, this golden coin is in almost perfect condition, except for a slight dent on one edge. And in a few moments, I shall be inviting you to make your bids—’
He broke off, because one of the clerks had come on stage to have a word in his ear.
Matty’s heart was thumping against her ribs. That dent on the edge proved it was hers beyond all doubt. ‘How interesting,’ she remembered her father murmuring as he examined the coin. ‘This jagged mark here, Matty—do you see it? It must have been hit with a sword, or maybe an axe. This coin might have seen battle!’
And it had been put in the auction by Jack Rutherford—she had no doubt of that now. Even as she watched, she saw how he had detached himself from his female companion and was moving through the crowd to get closer to the podium, no doubt eager for the bidding to start—but his face was a picture when Matty pushed her way through and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘You’re a thief, Jack Rutherford,’ she said. ‘That coin is mine, and you know it.’
People were turning to stare. Jack’s first expression was one of surprise, but very quickly recognition dawned. ‘You,’ he said. And by then the lady in green had come to join them, looking puzzled.
‘Jack, who is this young fellow? What on earth is going on?’
Jack turned to her swiftly. ‘There’s been a slight misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘I’ll explain to you later, Vanessa—’
A slight misunderstanding? Matty was incensed. She put her fists on her hips. ‘You’d better explain to me first, if you please!’
More people were listening in, wide-eyed, and Jack muttered to Matty, ‘Look. Not here. We can talk later—’
‘Hush!’ The auctioneer’s strident tones rang out across the room and once more he banged his gavel. ‘The sale of this rare Roman coin is about to commence!’
The bidding began at one guinea, but the offers came in swiftly and Matty’s heart sank lower as the price rose. ‘Five guineas,’ she heard the auctioneer declare. ‘Ten? Yes, we have ten. And now—now, I’m offered fifteen guineas, ladies and gentlemen...’
That was when Matty realised that Jack Rutherford’s elegant female companion was raising her gloved hand to catch the auctioneer’s eye. ‘Twenty guineas,’ she called.
Matty felt her breath catch. What? Jack’s lady friend was bidding for the coin?
‘Any more bids?’ called the auctioneer. ‘Twenty guineas I’m bid, by the lady in green. Twenty-five guineas, anyone?’
For a moment silence reigned, but then an elderly man at the back raised his hand.
‘Twenty-five,’ called the auctioneer. ‘Twenty-five guineas, to the gentleman at the far end of the room in the black coat. Have we any more bids?’
This time the silence remained unbroken. Jack’s companion—Vanessa, he’d called her—smiled at Jack. Then, with a rustle of silks and a hint of very expensive perfume, she slipped away.
And Matty realised the woman had been there to push up the bidding. She was his accomplice.
Matty turned on Jack, feeling dizzy with loss. ‘You must have known that coin was mine! How could you do such a thing?’
‘Look,’ he began, ‘let me explain. I found it a few hours after you visited me. It was lying in the road. You must have dropped it. And of course I realised it was yours.’
‘Then didn’t it occur to you to try to return it to me?’
He was looking exasperated now. ‘Yes, it most certainly did! I’ve been up and down just about every street in the area, knocking on doors, calling at shops, but I got nowhere, because I couldn’t even give them your name...’
‘It’s
