Tommy’s mouth fell open, and she jerked her shocked gaze at Chloe. “Youtoldhim?”
The duke gaped at her. “Youknew?”
“I knew about the vase and the painting.” Tommy’s nostrils flared. “I did not know my niece was a ninnyhammer.”
Chloe clenched her teeth together and made a smile as brittle as her soul.
“You might say,” she bit out, “things did not go as expected.”
What she really wanted to do was to toss Lawrence from his carriage and then throw herself straight into her sister’s arms.
Tommy’s frustration melted at once and she slid her hand over Chloe’s.
Chloe squeezed back, grateful beyond words for a sisterly anchor in the midst of the storm.
“I demand the return of my vase,” the duke commanded.
She ground her teeth. Moments before, they had been equals. Now he was back to being superior, treating her as though she weren’t a person in her own right. As though his needs and wants were the only ones that mattered. As though his heirloom were more valuable than hers.
Outside the window, fashionable Mayfair disappeared. Soon they approached Islington.
By the time the coach clipped up the path leading to the stately Wynchester home, panic raced through Chloe’s blood. She had never disappointed her family before. She had always completed every mission.
Until today, when a wild duke followed her home.
She exited first, on shaky legs. Tommy came next. They inched closer to each other before edging toward their house.
The Duke of Faircliffe alighted from his carriage in time to see Chloe’s brother Graham race along the edge of the roof, leap sideways from the topmost gable to the cupola over the first-floor balcony, and perform an elegant forward flip to land in perfect silence on the grass below.
Lawrence’s eyes widened in astonishment.
Graham swiped a hand over his flyaway black curls. “Why ishehere?”
The duke straightened in obvious affront. “I might expect a modicum of respect.”
“You might not, pup,” Tommy scolded in perfect Great-Aunt Wynchester cadence. “You might be a duke, but this is our home, and it’s up to us who we allow in it.”
“Chloe,” the duke said imperiously, “has informed me that—”
“You call herChloe?” Graham’s initial shock swiftly changed to speculation, and he sent her the sort of irritatingly knowing glance that only an elder brother could deliver.
She glared back at him mulishly.
“Er…Miss Wynchester, that is,” Lawrence corrected himself, flustered enough to drop the haughtier-than-thou aristocratic veneer. “The point is, she’s admitted a planned theft from my household, as well as possession of a certain vase that rightfully belongs to me.”
Graham’s smile disappeared. “You ruined our only collateral security?”
“I…” Chloe’s eyes begged for him to understand. “I’m sorry, Graham.”
Her brother did not look appeased. He looked betrayed and disappointed.
“She didn’t ruin anything,” Lawrence snapped. “It’s not ‘collateral security’ if the person you’re bargaining with doesn’t know you have it or want it. Unlike your sister,youclearly have not mastered the art of debate.”
Graham blinked, then visibly tried to mask another of his annoyingly knowing expressions. “The self-righteous duke leaps to defend his thief’s honor. How interesting.”
“Graham…” Chloe said in warning.
Before she could continue her threat, the front door to the house flew open and two more siblings strode outside.
