Chapter Fifteen
The wind off the North Sea rattled the panes in Barrington’s study, carrying a tang of salt that sharpened his focus. He scanned the morning’s correspondence, pausing at the echo of boot heels in the hall. At first steady, uneven, as though the visitor carried weight or favored one leg.
Kenworth stood in the doorway. “A caller for you, Colonel. An old friend, I’m sure you’ll be glad to see.”
Barrington rose, brows lifting as a tall man stepped inside, road dust dulling his coat, the hitch in his stride telling its own story.
“Townsend?”
“Colonel.” Felix Townsend’s grin was quick and warm. “I could hardly ride past without calling.”
Barrington chuckled. “If by ‘riding past’ you mean three days’ hard ride from London.”
“Closer to four with this leg,” Townsend admitted. “Your brother sends his regards and this.” He produced a leather packet from inside his coat.
Barrington ran his thumb over the Whitehall seal before breaking it, his gaze narrowing on Townsend.
“Not exactly. Edward’s orders were to put this directly into Ash’s hands. Said he’d know what to do with it.”
“You’ve come to the right place. He’s in Sommer-by-the-Sea. Likely at Lady Eastbury’s just now.” Barrington’s eyes narrowed. “And you? Between assignments?”
Townsend’s mouth twitched, as if suppressing an answer. “Something like that.”
Barrington let the silence stretch before clapping his old comrade on the shoulder. “Come, then. We’ll ride. You can tell me what mischief you’ve been in since we last crossed paths.”
The two men left the study, the rhythm of their steps uneven but companionable, a long friendship filling the silences between words. Outside, gulls wheeled against a silver sky as they set out toward Eastbury Manor.
*
Leticia heard the knock and glanced at her aunt, seated beside her in the parlor, darning gloves that had seen better seasons.
“That will be Gabriel.” She rose. “Or a messenger bearing a letter saying he cannot come.”
Lady Eastbury didn’t look up. “You’ll know which by the tone of the knock.”
But when the butler returned, it was not just Gabriel who followed.
“Barrington?” Leticia blinked in surprise as the colonel stepped inside, followed by a tall man in a travel-stained coat.
“Lady Salisbury. Lady Eastbury.” Barrington bowed, stepped aside as Gabriel entered behind them, brows raised. “Ashcombe, this is Felix Townsend. I believe you two met in London.”
“We did,” Gabriel said, offering his hand. His gaze dropped briefly to the man’s leg, assessing. “Are you well?”
Townsend grinned. “Well enough to travel, at least.”
Lady Eastbury’s eyes sharpened as she stepped forward. “A war wound, Mr. Townsend?”
He hesitated, cleared his throat. “I got through that arena unscathed. Unfortunately, my lady… this is not a tale for polite company.”
Her brows arched, but she let the matter rest, though the glance promised she would return to the matter later.
“And you’re far from London.”
“On behalf of Edward,” Townsend said, pulling a leather satchel from beneath his coat. “He received word of the thefts. Thought you might find this useful.”
Gabriel took the packet, thumb resting on the seal a heartbeat longer than needed before he broke it.
Leticia saw the soldier in him then, evaluating the importance of the information as if it were a weapon.
Lady Eastbury rose, setting her mending aside. “I’ll see to some refreshments. Leticia, show the gentlemen to the library.” She turned to the men. “You will have some privacy there.”
She left the room, and the gentlemen followed Leticia through the hall. The library opened before them in afternoon light, lace curtains softening the glow, the air faint with polish and old paper. It was the kind of room built for secrets.
The documents inside were auction ledgers, six in total, and several copied entries with names underlined in a familiar hand.
Leticia leaned over them, the ink-smudged columns blurring for a moment before her focus sharpened. “These are from the recent society auctions.”
Gabriel nodded slowly as he glanced up at Townsend. “Edward asked you to analyze them?”
“Actually,” Townsend said, settling into a chair with a grateful sigh, “he asked you to analyze them. My only instruction was to deliver them and stay out of the way.”
Leticia caught Gabriel’s glance and tilted her head, wordlessly requesting the ledgers.
He slid them toward her. Her fingertip traced the names, the paper brittle beneath her touch.
Several women had purchased from the same seller.
Several names repeated: Lady Enfield, Mrs. Greyson, and…
she lifted her head and turned toward him.
“One of the buyers was Erica Notley,” Leticia said aloud, her brow furrowing as she traced the line.
Gabriel looked up. “What did she buy?”
“Brooches. Necklaces. Minor pieces. All claimed to be from the estate of a former ambassador’s widow.”
Townsend reached into his coat and drew out another sheet. “The estate in question sold several lots, one as recently as this year, and another nearly thirty years earlier.”
Gabriel stilled. Leticia’s fingers hesitated on the page. “That’s a long time span.”
“Edward found it curious enough to include the document,” Townsend said.
“The same estate manager handled sales nearly thirty years apart. He thought the trail was worth following. The first lot included seemingly unrelated items, a silver teapot, a beaded reticule with a broken clasp, and a porcelain doll.”
Leticia exchanged a glance with Gabriel. Her voice became quieter. “People collect odd things.” Yet unease coiled in her stomach.
“True,” Townsend said. “But sometimes oddities connect more than they appear to.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching them all with the ease of a man who had seen a great deal and still found the company more interesting than the problem.
Gabriel straightened in his chair. “Same estate manager every time.”
“Which means,” Leticia said, eyes narrowing in thought, “he might know who owned the pieces before they were sold.”
“Or,” Gabriel added, “how they came to be in the widow’s collection in the first place.”
Barrington folded his arms, regarding her with interest. “That’s a long memory to keep.”
“Some men keep meticulous ledgers,” Townsend said. “Edward thought it worth noting. Said if anyone could give you a trail to follow, it would be this fellow.”
Leticia skimmed the papers again, her focus steadied. “Then he is our next step. One conversation could tie these threads together.”
Gabriel glanced at her, one brow arched. “If he’s inclined to share what he knows.”
“That,” she said with a faint smile, “is what charm is for.”
Barrington chuckled. “If you’re volunteering, Lady Salisbury, I imagine the poor man won’t stand a chance.”
“Nor will you,” Gabriel murmured, though his tone was so mild it could have been mistaken for agreement.
Townsend smirked at the interplay, clearly entertained. “You two always work like this?”
“We’re not working together,” Gabriel said at once.
Leticia tilted her head toward him. “Aren’t we?”
The flicker of a smile faded across his mouth before he bent again to the ledgers. “If we ride out tomorrow, we can be there before luncheon.”
“Tomorrow?” Barrington gave a low whistle. “Eager.”
“The longer we wait,” Gabriel said, “the more likely the trail will fade.”
“And the sooner,” Leticia added, “the thief has time to act again.”
Townsend gave her a full look. “Your instincts are good, Lady Salisbury.”
“They have to be,” she replied. “No one listens until it’s nearly too late.”
Silence pressed in, broken only by the cry of gulls outside the window.
Barrington slapped his hands against his knees. “Right, then. The estate manager it is. I’ll send a note ahead.”
“Don’t,” Gabriel said. “If he’s part of this…”
“He isn’t,” Barrington said.
“…a warning will only give him time to decide what not to tell us,” Gabriel finished.
Leticia lifted the top ledger again, letting her fingers skim the brittle edges. “What if he doesn’t remember? Thirty years is a long time.”
“Some things,” Gabriel said quietly, “are worth remembering.”
Her gaze locked with his, the unspoken pressing between them heavier than the paper in her hand. “Let us hope he agrees with you.”
A knock came at the door, and Kenworth showed with a tea tray. The pot steamed fragrantly, but the cups remained untouched as the conversation swirled on.
Townsend leaned forward. “There’s a chance we’re chasing a shadow here. But if we’re right, the estate manager could put a name to whoever gathered these pieces before they went to auction. Once we have that…”
“We follow the chain,” Gabriel said.
“And when we reach the end?” Leticia asked.
He held her gaze. “We’ll know.”
“Or we’ll have to start all over,” Barrington said dryly. “And you’ll wish you’d let me send that note.”
Townsend laughed under his breath. “If nothing else, it will be an entertaining ride.”
Gabriel gathered the papers into a precise stack, soldier’s order in every motion. “We ride at first light.”
Leticia’s eyes softened, though her voice stayed brisk. “I’ll see that we have the proper maps.”
“We?” Gabriel asked again, a hint of amusement threading the word.
She held his gaze, heat sparking in her chest. “You didn’t think I’d let you chase ghosts while I stayed home to pour the tea, did you?”
Something flickered in his eyes. She wasn’t certain if it was wariness, desire, or recognition. For the first time since they’d met, a reluctant smile tugged at his mouth.
“No. I didn’t.”