Chapter 19 #2
“I don’t know him well enough to know,” Samantha murmured. “He seems driven.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Ewan offered her the seat closest to the fire, then sat down with her. “I’m not as obnoxious as I seem. Just trying to do my part for the betterment of the species.”
Fortunately for him, he didn’t have as much time for betterment as he no doubt wanted and fortunately for her, Derrick arrived in jeans and a T-shirt, not shorts and his shirt flipped over his shoulder.
Dory Mollineux, his V-neck sweaters, and his Top-Siders would have all wept with envy.
“Let’s talk over lunch,” Derrick said. “I’m starving and I’m sure you are as well.”
“You know, I am, actually,” Ewan said, rising with a smile. “Thank you for thinking of me.”
Derrick looked at her. “Help me not kill him.”
Ewan put his hand over his heart. “I’m here to run security for you and this is the thanks I get?”
“I’m sure you’ve already eaten,” Derrick said shortly. “Go secure.”
Ewan looked at her and made her a little bow. “He has spoken and I must obey. I’ll try to sit next to you at dinner.”
Samantha watched him go, then looked at Derrick. “Is he always like that?”
“Sometimes he’s much worse. Let’s go throw ourselves on the mercy of Madame Gies, then we’ll see where we are.”
Samantha was certain she wouldn’t stay awake through lunch, but she managed it in spite of herself. And once she thought she might like to have another nap, Derrick looked at her.
“We need to figure a few things out,” he said seriously.
“Like what?”
He thanked Madame Gies for lunch, then took Samantha’s hand and led her from the kitchen. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
“We need to talk about those two lads, the one who broke into your hotel room and the other who was waiting outside—”
“What?” she squeaked.
He shook his head. “They’re too far away to be a bother. But they are the ones who were following you from York. Well, from Newcastle, actually.”
“I think I need to sit down.”
“We’ll go invade Cameron’s study. Come on.”
She let him pull her up the stairs because that was better than asking him to carry her, which she was very tempted to do.
He led her into something that belonged in a castle, which she supposed was appropriate, and put her within collapsing range of a couch, which she appreciated.
Then he sat down on the couch with her and looked at her seriously.
“I don’t think those two were after the lace.”
“What were they after?”
“Something you still have.”
“But I don’t have anything,” she managed. “Just what Emily bought me—or, you, rather—and my messenger bag. There’s nothing left in that.”
“Well, they think there’s something left somewhere. Gems, apparently, given that jewels are what they deal in.”
She felt her mouth fall open. “I’m being chased by jewel thieves? You can’t be serious.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have the lace anymore, yet your room was broken into last night while you were in it.”
“And while I wasn’t.”
He went very still. “What?”
“When I came back from a walk, I found my door open.” She took a deep breath. “I thought it was just the maid.”
“What had you carried with you on your outing?”
“My bag.” She looked at him. “It’s in my room. I usually never go anywhere without it, but I didn’t think I needed to be that careful here.” She considered. “Should I go get it?”
“If you don’t mind.”
She thought perhaps the trip would help her calm her racing heart, but it didn’t do a thing for her. She was still trying to catch her breath as she sat back down next to Derrick and handed him her purse.
“Have at it.”
“Anything personal in there?”
“Well, of course there’s personal stuff,” she said with a snort, then realized what he was getting at. “No feminine protection items, if that’s what you’re talking about.”
“Thank heavens. May I?”
“Feel free.”
He pulled things out of her bag and laid them out: wallet, envelope from Lord Epworth, sunglasses, key to her room—
“Oops,” she said.
“They’ll manage to get another,” he said. He frowned at the very normal and ordinary items there, then took her bag and upended it.
A handkerchief came out of one of her unzipped hidden pockets after a fair bit of shaking. Samantha blinked in surprise.
“What in the world is that?”
He peered at it, then reached out and picked it up. It was tied up like a little hobo bundle, which he then gingerly untied. He peeled back the corners, then looked at the small linen packet it revealed. He looked at her.
“What do you think?”
“Too small to be a bomb.”
He smiled briefly, then set it down on the table. He pulled out a pocketknife.
“Are you supposed to have one of those?” she asked.
“Don’t tell.”
She would have smiled, but she was actually slightly unnerved to find that she had again been used as a courier without her knowledge.
Derrick carefully slit open one end of the small linen package, tipped it, then jumped a little as a handful of gems spilled out into his hand.
She squeaked.
Derrick poured the gems onto the coffee table and simply stared at them. He looked at her.
“What do you think?”
She took the handkerchief the little packet had been wrapped in and looked at it. “Sixteenth-century bobbin lace. It’s new.”
“It’s not very clean.”
“I mean, it’s not vintage,” she said. She looked at him. “We’re looking at a piece of Elizabethan lace that hasn’t been around for four hundred years. It’s new.”
He blinked. “You think it was planted on you when we were fetching the lace?”
“I don’t know what else to think.” She shrugged helplessly.
“It’s not like I’ve dumped out my bag since then.
I was too busy stuffing things into it.” She spread the lace out carefully.
She could hardly believe she was examining yet another piece of Elizabethan textile, much less one that was antique, but not antique.
She sighed. “It’s not clean, no, but it’s also not showing any age spots.
And yes, it’s worn a little on this edge here and it’s been repaired here, but on the whole, it’s in very good condition. ” She looked at him. “New.”
“I’ll be damned.” He shook his head. “I wonder why?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “There’s no way those guys last night could possibly have known I had that. Is there?”
He looked into the empty hearth for a moment or two, then reached for her purse and looked at it. He finally turned it inside out. He looked at her. “Do you mind if get a little more friendly?”
“With my bag?”
“That, too.”
She blinked, then smiled. “You’re crazy. And yes, go ahead.”
He looked in the pockets, then ran his fingers over the lining.
And he stopped.
He reached for his knife, then looked at her. “Mind?”
“No,” she said, feeling a little breathless.
He unpicked stitches she wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been looking for them. She felt her mouth fall open as he pulled out a small plastic bag of gems.
“Well, this is interesting.”
“Damn that Lydia Cooke.”
He laughed a little. “That’s a pretty big assumption.”
“That bag never leaves my person,” she said. “The only time I’ve been without it is in Newcastle.” She looked at him. “Jet lag, you know.”
“Understandable.” He set the bag down on the coffee table next to the other loose gems. “Notice anything interesting?”
She looked at both collections, then frowned. “Well, apart from the fact that I’m seeing double is the fact that I’m seeing double.”
He lifted his eyebrows briefly. “I’d have to dig out a jeweler’s loupe, but I imagine those are quite similar sets of stones.”
“What?” she said in surprise.
He started to answer, but his phone beeped at him. Samantha watched him read a text, then put his phone away.
“Oliver and Peter are here. We’ll set up in Cameron’s office downstairs. Lots of comfy chairs and secure lines for Internet surfing. I’ll build a fire and we’ll do a bit of researching.”
“What are we going to do with the loose stones?”
“Oh, I’ll just shove them in a pocket.”
“Better check for holes first.”
He looked at her and smiled. “You know, you’re fairly funny for a textile historian.”
“Did you expect me to only be able to talk about bobbins and patterns?”
He shook his head, then took the linen, the handkerchief, and the small plastic bag full of gems and shoved it all in her bag he’d turned back outside out. He scooped up the loose gems, then stood and put them in his pocket. She gaped at him.
“You just shoved a fortune in gems in your pocket.”
“A fortune, do you think?”
“Well, the lace alone is very valuable—”
“Which is why it’s in your purse.” He put his pocketknife into a different pocket, then held out his hand for her. “Let’s go.”
“You’re crazy.”
He pulled her to her feet. “Sometimes I worry that I am.”
She let him lead her out of the study and partway down the stairs before she had to say something.
“You can’t just leave those stones loose.”
He smiled. “You can’t help yourself, can you?”
She sighed. “I really don’t want to be an historian any longer.”
“But you can’t seem to keep away from it.”
“It keeps finding me,” she said defensively. “It isn’t as if I asked someone to plant priceless gems on me.”
“Twice, apparently.”
She looked up at him. “Are you trying to be helpful here?”
He smiled. When he smiled, she wanted to run. Admittedly, the man was just too handsome for her peace of mind, but that had been easier to ignore when she didn’t like him. But when he smiled at her as if he actually thought she wasn’t completely intolerable, it was very bad.
“Detour through the kitchen for a container,” he said, pulling her that way once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “So, does it really bother you to be pulled back into something you don’t want to do?”
“A little.”
“You’re very good at it, if that makes it any easier.”
She sighed, then looked up at him. “This is the last thing I investigate.”
“Ah, an investigative historian.” He shot her a smile. “Sexy.”
She felt her mouth fall open. “What happened to you? You’re so . . . happy.”
He laughed a little. “We are looking at a large fortune in Elizabethan gems and you have a piece of new but old lace and no one to claim it. What’s not to be happy about?”
She supposed he had a point.
She just hoped he didn’t pay a very steep price for that giddiness. She hoped she didn’t pay a price for the same. She had gone to Ambleside, sure that her adventures with thugs were over. Now, though, she had been drawn back into the thick of things, against her will and better judgment.
Though she had to admit, if she was going to be thrown into craziness, she couldn’t think of anyone better to be there with than the man walking next to her, humming something that sounded remarkably like a battle dirge.