Chapter 15
Verity’s mother had apparently taken such pleasure in surprising her with an unexpected social engagement that she had decided to repeat herself.
Only, this time, Verity wasn’t quite as concerned, for it would give her the chance to investigate.
They were going to the Marquess of Eastclere’s for dinner.
Eastclere House was as imposing as ever, although at night it now held a melancholy feel.
They used to visit the house much more often when Lord Eastclere’s father had been alive, for he and Verity’s father had been nearly as close as brothers.
But the current Lord Eastclere had changed many things since inheriting the title. The once-welcoming home now felt cold, with fewer servants and darker hallways where lamps had been dimmed, perhaps to save on oil.
“It’s been too long since we’ve dined here,” Verity’s mother remarked as they handed their wraps to a footman.
The last social event here had been the Spring Soiree, which Lord Eastclere had hosted to showcase his extensive collection of artwork and jewels.
The very event at which the Paragon had initially gone missing.
Verity had been only once since then, when she came to request that Lord Eastclere allow Evelyn and Asher to see the gallery to try to determine what had originally happened to the diamond.
Verity nodded absently at her mother, her mind already working. This visit presented the perfect opportunity to discover whether Lord Eastclere was truly in financial trouble—and perhaps to uncover whether her theory was right and he did have a connection to the missing diamond.
They were led to the drawing room where Lord Eastclere stood with Lady Seraphina and her elderly aunt, Mrs. Pembroke, a frail woman who seemed to be dozing even while upright in her chair.
“Lord Camden,” Lord Eastclere greeted her father with a stiff bow. “Lady Camden. And Lady Verity, how lovely to see you again so soon.”
His eyes lingered on her a moment too long, making Verity’s skin prickle. She curtsied and murmured the appropriate pleasantries while studying the room. Several spaces on the walls showed lighter patches where paintings had once hung.
“I hope you’ll forgive the sparse appearance,” Lord Eastclere said, following her gaze. “I’m having some items restored.”
Lady Seraphina caught Verity’s eye with a subtle lift of her brow that suggested she knew better.
After light chatter among the group, dinner was announced, and they progressed to the dining room. Verity noted more signs of economizing—fewer candles in the chandeliers, simpler floral arrangements, and a distinct reduction in footmen compared to previous visits.
“I understand you have an extensive library, Lord Camden, and you are a voracious reader, Lady Verity,” Lady Seraphina remarked as they took their seats. “I’ve been hoping to expand my own education. Perhaps you might advise me sometime?”
“I would be delighted,” Verity replied, grateful for the conversation. “You are also happy to open your library, are you not, Father?”
“Of course,” he replied, a man of few words.
“Indeed,” Lord Eastclere cut in. “Lady Seraphina has read nearly all that remains in my library. I have sold many of my collections to make room for new ones.”
Verity nodded, filing away this additional confirmation of financial strain.
The first course arrived—a soup that was tasty but noticeably thinner than the rich bisques Eastclere’s tables had once featured. As conversation flowed around her, Verity considered how she might slip away. Her opportunity came when Lady Seraphina’s aunt began to nod off at the table.
“Mrs. Pembroke appears fatigued,” Verity observed quietly to Lady Seraphina, who was attempting to act as hostess, though it was rather obvious she hadn’t much experience at it. Still, Verity appreciated the effort. “Perhaps she would be more comfortable in another room?”
Lady Seraphina looked grateful. “That’s very thoughtful. Would you mind terribly if I stepped away to arrange it? I won’t be but a moment.”
“Allow me to help,” Verity offered, rising before anyone could protest. “I know the house well enough to find a maid.”
Lord Eastclere seemed about to object, but her father launched into a question about Parliament that demanded his attention. Verity and Lady Seraphina helped the elderly woman from the dining room, summoned a maid, and saw her settled in a small parlor adjacent to the dining room.
“She’ll be fine here,” Lady Seraphina said. “The maid will stay with her. I should return before I’m missed.”
“I’ll be along shortly,” Verity said. “I just need to… freshen up.”
Lady Seraphina gave her a suspicious but still friendly look, merely nodding before returning to the dining room.
Heart pounding, Verity slipped down the corridor toward Lord Eastclere’s study. She remembered its location from childhood visits—second door past the library, overlooking the side garden. The house was eerily quiet, the fewer servants making her journey easier.
The study door was unlocked—a stroke of luck she hadn’t dared hope for. Verity glanced over her shoulder before slipping inside and gently closing the door behind her.
Moonlight streamed through the windows, providing just enough illumination to make out the desk and cabinets. She dared not light a lamp. Moving carefully, she approached the massive oak desk that dominated the room.
The top drawer was locked, but the second yielded to her gentle tug. Inside lay several folded papers. Verity lifted them out, straining to read in the dim light.
Her breath caught as she unfolded the first document—a statement from a moneylender showing a staggering sum that made her eyes widen. Lord Eastclere owed nearly twenty thousand pounds, with interest accumulating at an alarming rate. The payment schedule showed he was three months behind.
The next paper was a letter from a solicitor warning of legal action if payments weren’t resumed immediately.
Verity’s fingers trembled in fear of being caught as well as shock at what she had discovered as she replaced the papers and continued her search.
In the third drawer, she found a ledger bound in red leather.
Opening it revealed page after page of Eastclere’s financial records, each showing increasing desperation—mortgages against properties, sales of livestock and timber rights, and loans with ever-higher interest rates.
But it was a folder tucked beneath the ledger that truly made her pulse race.
Inside contained correspondence with several jewelers regarding the valuation and potential sale of various pieces from the Eastclere collection.
Detailed descriptions of emerald necklaces, ruby brooches, and diamond earrings were annotated with estimated values and potential buyers.
And there, on the final page, was document of guarantee for the Paragon Diamond itself—dated just two weeks before it had been stolen. The valuation listed was nearly twice what Verity had expected, and a notation in the margin read: “Claim to be filed upon confirmation of theft.”
Her mind raced. Had Eastclere arranged the theft of his own diamond? Was he planning to collect the insurance money while still possessing the actual gem?
A creak in the hallway made her freeze. Quickly, she replaced everything exactly as she had found it, closed the drawers, and moved swiftly to the door. She pressed her ear against it, listening for footsteps. Hearing nothing, she cautiously opened it a crack and peered out. The corridor was empty.
Verity slipped out, closed the door behind her, and hurried to the lady’s room to compose herself. Her heart thundered in her chest, but she forced herself to take deep breaths, smoothing her hair and pinching color into her cheeks before returning to the dining room.
“There you are,” her mother said as Verity retook her seat. “We were beginning to worry.”
“I apologize for the delay,” Verity replied, amazed at how steady her voice sounded. “I was helping Lady Seraphina settle her aunt and then needed a moment to put myself to rights.”
Lord Eastclere was watching her closely. “How kind of you, cousin.”
The rest of dinner passed in a blur as Verity processed what she had discovered. The debt was far worse than she had imagined, and the guarantee document suggested something deeply troubling about Eastclere’s involvement with the diamond’s disappearance.
When the meal concluded, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room while the gentlemen remained for port.
Verity excused herself briefly to check on Mrs. Pembroke, but paused upon her return when she heard her father and Lord Eastclere speaking in grave voices.
The door was ajar, and her father’s voice drifted out clearly.
“The situation is dire, then?” Lord Camden asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Eastclere replied, his voice tight with tension. “The estate cannot sustain itself much longer without an influx of capital.”
“And the diamond?”
“Gone. Ravenscar won’t admit it, but I know the diamond is no longer in his possession. I am pursuing the insurance claim, but it is uncertain if and when it will come through.”
There was a pause, then her father said, “There may be another solution. You mentioned you still retained an interest in Verity—is it genuine?”
Verity’s breath caught in her throat. She pressed herself against the wall, barely daring to breathe.
“I have always found your daughter charming,” Eastclere replied carefully. “And her dowry would certainly address my immediate concerns.”
“It would indeed,” her father agreed. “And the connection between our families would be strengthened.”
“Then you would support such a match?”
“I would. Verity has been… difficult about marriage prospects in the past, but I believe she could be persuaded, especially given your position and her own advancing years.”
“Excellent,” Eastclere said, sounding relieved. “Despite our past conversations, she has shown some interest as of late.”
“It would be far easier if she agreed out of her own accord than if I were to force her into anything. But best make it quick. Your debts will only grow.”
“Understood. I shall begin my courtship in earnest.”
Verity pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp. Her father was practically giving her away to save Eastclere from financial ruin. And Eastclere was primarily interested in her dowry.
It wasn’t that he was a terrible man. That would make outright denial much easier. He just wasn’t… he wasn’t Julian, if she was being honest with herself.
There was no spark of attraction between them, nothing to suggest that there ever could be.
The worst of it was that this was all her fault. If she had never attempted flirting with Lord Eastclere in order to become close to him and discover his secrets, then he never would have considered marriage to her again after she had gently turned him down last time.
Her parents hadn’t understood it—in fact, they had always assumed that it was Lord Eastclere who wasn’t interested, especially since it wasn’t the first time that she had been turned down.
Fortunately, Lord Eastclere’s ego was as large as most gentlemen, and he had taken ownership of the decision.
Verity had been fine with it.
It was around that time that she had decided it was best to fade into the background, that if no one noticed her, she wouldn’t have to go through it all again—the arrangement, the rejection, whether it be her own doing or the other party’s.
Now she was certainly in a bind, for how could she reject Lord Eastclere again, especially after she had been the one to initiate interest?
He would certainly have something to say to her parents, and she could end up married off to someone even worse.
She was in a pickle, that was for certain.
Why was her first instinct to go ask Julian for help?
She should be going to Evelyn. She had asked Julian for enough help already—too much help, for his lessons had been part of the reason she was in this situation to begin with. She should have stayed the wallflower she was, should never have attempted to step into the sun.
“Verity?” Her mother approached from down the corridor. “Are you well? You’re white as a sheet.”
“I’m fine,” she assured her, trying to return to herself. “A bit of a headache, is all.”
“Oh, Verity, it’s just family. Nothing to escape tonight.”
If only her mother knew the truth.
Soon enough, she would.