CHAPTER 2 #2
Romy explained that authentic was a dangerous word, the current scheme was based on surviving paint evidence, and no, they had not discovered a perfectly preserved Georgian paint chart conveniently labelled by room.
By the time she escaped, Adrian was crossing the entrance hall.
No keys visible.
Romy caught him beside the coat room.
“Problem upstairs?”
He frowned.
“What problem?”
“The Blue Study service corridor.”
His face stayed neutral.
“I haven’t been near the Blue Study.”
Leo looked at Romy.
Romy looked at Adrian.
“I just saw you unlock the side door.”
“No, you didn’t.”
There was no hesitation.
That bothered her more than an excuse would have.
“You were on the landing at six forty-eight.”
“I was checking the rear exit.”
“The rear exit is downstairs.”
Adrian gave a short laugh.
“You’ve been staring at plaster too long.”
He moved away before she could answer.
Leo waited.
Then said, “Ninety-seven reasons?”
“Dropping rapidly.”
A server appeared with tiny mushroom tartlets.
Romy took one.
Leo stared.
“What?”
“You said we were working.”
“This is food, not champagne.”
“So there are categories.”
“There are always categories.”
The tartlet was hot, buttery, and better than anything served at an event where guests described food as delightful without eating it.
For thirty seconds, Romy stood beside the staircase with Leo while the quartet moved into a lighter piece. Through the drawing-room doors, guests admired restored cornices Pattern House had spent days repairing without knowing who had done the work.
Leo smiled at an elderly couple debating whether a ceramic greyhound was meant to be ironic.
For a moment, Asterleigh felt like what these events claimed to be. A beautiful old house full of people enjoying beautiful things.
Then Leo’s camera came up.
“What are you photographing?”
“Marcus.”
She looked.
Marcus was crossing the far end of the entrance hall toward the narrow passage leading to the Blue Study service corridor.
The brass plate-warmer was tucked against his hip.
The burgundy felt had been removed from under it and folded into a thick rectangle over his other arm. Its gold edge showed along one side.
“That was on the dining table,” Romy said.
“Maybe Harriet changed her mind.”
Leo took the photograph.
The display on the back of his camera flashed the time.
6:52.
Marcus glanced toward them.
“Borrowing my own property,” he called.
“Planning to return it?” Romy asked.
“If the room behaves.”
He continued into the side passage.
Leo lowered the camera.
“Why take it toward the Blue Study?”
“Ask him when he comes back.”
“You’re teaching me suspicion.”
“I’m teaching you not to carry antique brass through crowded rooms without somebody documenting where you took it.”
“Much healthier.”
Romy’s phone vibrated.
A message from the event coordinator.
COURTYARD REMARKS 7:05. PLEASE DIRECT SPONSORS OUTSIDE FROM 7.
She checked the room again.
Sebastian stood near the drawing-room doors reading something on his phone.
His face gave nothing away.
Then he reached inside his jacket and removed a small black notebook. He flipped through several pages, stopped, and read the message again.
Romy moved toward him.
“Sebastian.”
He closed the notebook.
“Persistent.”
“You were going to tell me about the textile.”
“I was interrupted by your carpet emergency.”
“It wasn’t an emergency.”
“Most things aren’t until they are.”
His phone buzzed again.
He read it.
Something decided itself behind his eyes.
“Who is messaging you?”
“Have we reached the stage of our friendship where you inspect my correspondence?”
“We haven’t reached friendship.”
“A relief.”
He slipped the phone away.
“What did you recognize in Celeste’s panel?”
Sebastian glanced toward the Blue Study corridor.
“I need to check something.”
“With Marcus?”
That stopped him for a fraction of a second.
“Why Marcus?”
“He sourced it.”
“So Celeste claims.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“I rarely believe anybody who uses the word sourced.”
He moved past Romy.
She caught his sleeve, not hard, just enough.
“Sebastian.”
He looked down at her hand.
Romy let go.
“What?”
“If you know there’s a problem with something installed in that room, tell me now.”
His expression softened by a degree. Not kindness. Recognition, perhaps.
“You really do care about the house.”
“Yes.”
“That may be inconvenient.”
“For whom?”
But he was already walking away.
Romy checked the time.
6:57.
Sebastian entered the Blue Study.
The door closed after him.
Leo appeared at Romy’s shoulder.
“He looked pleased.”
“No.”
“What then?”
“Interested.”
“That seems worse.”
“It usually is.”
At seven, volunteers began directing guests toward the courtyard.
Romy looked for Marcus.
No sign of him.
She looked toward the side passage.
Empty.
“Stay here,” she told Leo.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere dramatic.”
“That means something dramatic.”
“It means check that people aren’t putting drinks on the stair rail.”
He gave her a look that said he understood perfectly well he had been assigned out of her way.
Romy reached the Blue Study corridor.
The main room door was closed.
The service passage was empty.
She could have opened the door.
She almost did.