“You knew something was amiss when you arrived,” she said, not needing to ask the question. “That is why you hovered near the library so often, and why you asked specific questions about provenance and documentation methods.”
Edmund nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Yes,” he said. “I have been tracing this network for over a year. Several thefts have occurred under identical circumstances. The true pieces are removed, clever facsimiles set in their stead, and the deception often goes unnoticed until collections are re-examined months later.”
Marcus’s hand closed over the edge of the desk.
“And how long do we have before such a loss is beyond recovery?” he asked.
Edmund shook his head.
“That depends,” he said. “If we act swiftly, we may still recover the stolen item. I have a contact in London who has been following certain figures. The ring may be passed along in the next few days if not intercepted.”
Marcus exchanged a look with Catherine.
“You have someone in mind,” he said.
Edmund’s shoulders fell slightly.
“I do,” he said. “In truth, more than one. But I have not proof enough to accuse, and should they suspect discovery, they wouldvanish before we could act. Such people are well practised in escape.”
Marcus took a deep breath.
“What do you propose we do?” he asked.
Edmund looked at Catherine, then went back to Marcus.
“We must proceed with care,” he said. “Access to the collection must be curtailed at once—no further unsupervised hours with the artefacts. Speak of the missing ring to no one, not yet. Let me work quietly. If fortune favours, I shall secure the evidence required for a formal charge.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“You will have my full cooperation,” he said.
Catherine spoke next.
“And mine,” she said solemnly.
Edmund closed the leather folder and replaced it in his coat.
“Then I must set to work,” he said. “And once again, I beg pardon for the deception. But it was necessary. I never intended your gathering to suffer harm.”
Marcus shook his head, inclining slightly to the man he now understood to be a covert investigator.
“There is no need for apology,” he replied quietly. “I comprehend the necessity of secrecy. Come—let us consider what may be done to unmask the culprit.”
Chapter Fifteen
Marcus stood near the fireplace, one hand braced against the mantel, the other pressed flat against the small of his back. The fire had been allowed to dwindle, casting little warmth, but he barely noticed. His mind ran through every possibility Edmund had laid before them. Criminals masquerading as scholars, gathering at events such as his for no other purpose than theft. Not one isolated act, but a calculated campaign. He exhaled slowly.
Behind him, Catherine worked with quiet focus. The desk had become a battlefield of parchment and ink, every sheet marked with notations, annotations, and the urgent hand of late-night purpose. She reached for another page, aligning it with the stack she had already arranged with methodical precision. It was a silent declaration of intent and order, even in crisis.
Marcus turned and studied her in the dim lamplight. Her face was composed, though fatigue clung to her features. The lines of concentration between her brows had deepened as she wrote, sorted, and reassembled the evidence into something they might yet decipher.
“I do not know how you can work so steadily with such madness about us,” he said.
She looked up, her expression calm, apart from fatigue and concern in her eyes.
“Because it must be done,” she said. “We cannot allow this to go unchallenged.”
