another encouraging smile. ‘If you share it with me, then I will go about my business and leave you to yours. The matter will be settled without another thought from you.’
She could not help a derisive snort. It would serve him right if she told him the truth and then sent him on his way with no other help. ‘Very well, then.’ She turned from him and walked down the hall to the morning room. He could follow or not. It did not really matter.
She heard the measured steps of his boots follow down the corridor and into the room. When she withdrew the crumpled paper from the little writing desk in the corner, she turned to find him still a respectful few steps behind her. She handed him the list. ‘There you go. Settle our troubles, if you still think you can.’
She watched his handsome brow furrow as he read down the column. ‘Blue painting. Candlesticks. Third Earl’s inkwell.’ He glanced up at her, clearly surprised. ‘That is all the detail you have? Nothing to tell me if the candlesticks were gold or silver?’ The furrows grew even deeper. ‘And I cannot make out this line at all.’
‘Neither can I,’ she said, trying to contain the malicious glee as he was brought into her suffering. ‘My grandmother is a woman of many words, but we can seldom get the ones we need out of her. It took some effort to get this much detail, for she kept no records of the things she sold and the places she took them. And I am quite certain there are items missing from this account.’ Only one of them had any significance. But it was not a story she wished to tell, just yet. ‘I will question her further, but I do not know how much more she will admit.’
‘It is fortunate that dealers keep better records than their clients,’ he said. ‘It might take some persuading for them to give the information up. There are laws against dealing in entailed merchandise.’
‘I am well aware of the fact.’ Her grandmother was as guilty or more so than the people she’d bartered with. They might be receivers of stolen goods, but she was the actual thief.
‘But if they do not remember her?’ The look on his face changed to resignation. ‘Would you recognise these items, if you saw them again?’
‘Most of them, I think,’ she said. ‘I have lived in the house since I was ten. They should at least be familiar, should I find them in a shop window.’
He sighed. ‘Then it would be best if you come with me, to retrieve them.’
‘You are suggesting that I accompany a strange man to unseemly parts of London to retrieve stolen goods.’
‘I am not a stranger, as such,’ he reminded her. His smile returned, though it was somewhat the worse for wear. ‘I was sent by your brother-in-law to help you.’
‘I have only your word for that,’ she replied.
‘How else would I know of your problems, if not for him?’
‘You might have guessed them.’ More likely, it was just as he said. He had been sent to help. But for some reason, his good looks and perfect manners annoyed her. It gave her a dark and unladylike pleasure to see him struggle.
His composure slipped for only a moment. Then he dug a hand into his coat pocket and came out with a paper. He held it out to her. ‘If it is not as I say, how do you suppose I came by this?’
It was a letter of credit, signed by Mr Leggett, promising to honour any and all bills without question. The sight of it left her light-headed. He could not know what he was promising. Since Faith and her husband had already left for their honeymoon, it was too late to tell him.
He mistook the reason for her silence and said, ‘If it helps, think of me as a servant who will be accompanying you as you set matters right. I will be there to assure your safety, handle the transactions and carry the packages.’
It did not help at all. The idea of him walking a pace behind her like some liveried footman was an abomination. He was too well spoken for a servant and not stern enough for a schoolmaster. If she stretched her imagination to the breaking point, she could see him as a solicitor, but there was a sparkle in his eye better suited to a criminal than a man of law. And no vicar would have that knowing smile.
He was simply too handsome to be going about town with. Should she be seen with him there would be gossip that had nothing to do with the Stricklands’ financial troubles. And while it was quite all right for the new Earl to see her as sought after, she could not have him thinking that she was being actively courted by Gregory Drake.
‘If you fear for your reputation, remember that it will be equally damaged if news of the missing items becomes public.’
‘Unless the new Earl can be persuaded to compassionate silence,’ she said, wishing she could go back to her practising and pretend this meeting had never occurred.
Mr Drake tucked his letter back into his coat, along with her incomplete list. ‘What do you know of your grandfather’s heir, thus far?’
It was an annoying question, since the answer was obvious. They’d had no contact with the man, other than the request for an audit of the entail to be completed before his arrival, and that had come through a solicitor. It did not bode well. But she put on a false smile to appease her interrogator. ‘I know that he is family and familial bonds are strong. I am sure Mr Strickland will understand the difficulties faced by women who are forced to fend for themselves.’
‘We must hope so, for I doubt he has any special affection for this country,’ Mr Drake said, pulling another piece of paper from his opposite pocket. ‘Mr Leggett has also hired me to find what I could about the gentleman you are expecting.’ He scanned his notes. ‘It appears that his grandfather fought bravely in their revolution against this country. More recently, Mr Strickland’s elder brother, Edward, was impressed into the British Navy. Miles Strickland became heir upon Edward’s untimely death in battle.’
This was what came of optimism. Hope had allowed herself to believe, just once, that with a little effort on her part, things might turn out for the best. And this was how the Lord rewarded her. She swallowed her nerves. ‘If our country has treated him so unfairly, perhaps he will refuse the title and remain in America.’
‘It is too late to hope for that, I think,’ Mr Drake announced. ‘Even now, the schooner Mary Beth is on its way from Philadelphia to Bristol. If he booked passage on it, as he planned, he may arrive at any time.’
‘We are not at fault for a war on the other side of the world, or the doings of the Royal Navy,’ Hope said, feeling her vision of the future crumbling like a sandcastle at high tide.
‘But there is still the matter of the missing entail,’ Mr Drake replied, speaking slowly, as if to a child. ‘It is best that we make sure he has no other reasons to be unhappy with you. Give me a day to examine your list in detail. If it is convenient, I will call for you tomorrow at ten and we will begin the process of making things right.’
She wanted to argue that it was not convenient at all. He could take the list and go to perdition for all she cared. They were doomed. All doomed. What good would it do her to start a search that she was sure they could never finish?
But Mr Leggett must have chosen this fellow for his skills in retrieval. Perhaps he could find a way to make things marginally better. If he needed her help, then surely her help was required. The sooner it was begun, the sooner it would be over. And she could not depend on rough winter crossings to delay the Earl indefinitely. The house needed to be in something approaching order when
