As they rose, Lady Eastbury glanced toward the hallway. “Has Professor Tresham sent his notes on the Vienna acquisition yet?”
Gabriel paused, shook his head. “Not yet. He mentioned needing to consult a private collection. Something about provenance and mistranslation.”
Lady Eastbury’s voice softened. “He does love a contradiction. But the man knows his history.”
The gallery was long and stately, with windows spilling light across polished floors. Portraits lined the opposite wall, a silent parade of Ashcombes past. Leticia slowed, caught by the hush that deepened with each step.
Halfway down, she stopped. Her gaze fixed on a portrait.
Three figures. Two women and a man. Her mother, unmistakable with her dark hair and serene smile. Lady Eastbury, younger and vibrant, was the other woman. And between them, a tall man with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Robbie Ashcombe,” Lady Eastbury said softly, stepping closer. Her voice carried the echo of memory and surprise, drawing a glance from Leticia and Gabriel.
She added gently, “I hadn’t expected to see this picture again. He was your uncle, Gabriel.”
Leticia turned, startled. “You knew him well?”
“Well enough. We were all very close then.” She said no more, but her tone suggested there was more beneath the silence.
Gabriel joined them. “I’d never noticed the resemblance until now.”
“You didn’t know?” Leticia asked.
“I wasn’t certain who they were. The names on the brass plates have faded.”
Lady Eastbury’s eyes softened. “Your mother loved that brooch.”
Leticia’s gaze caught on the gem painted at her mother’s throat, a teardrop stone that shimmered even in oil and pigment. A chill settled beneath her ribs. The same brooch now rested in her jewelry box.
“She always did like sparkle,” she murmured.
Lady Eastbury smiled. “We found that piece in Vienna. Robbie called it a trinket, but your mother adored it.”
Leticia swallowed, keeping her voice light. “I remember how some of Mama’s jewelry twinkled like stars.” Yet unease curled at the edges of memory, a shadow she could not name.
“You were forever rearranging my pearls,” her aunt added fondly. “You wound them round her wrist once and snapped the thread. Took a week to find all the beads.”
Gabriel placed a hand on the frame. “Shall we return to the drawing room? The fire might be welcome.”
With tea replenished and a warm fire crackling, the mood lightened. Gabriel, sensing the shift, glanced toward the sideboard.
“If I may be bold, would either of you care for a game?”
Leticia arched a brow. “Cards?”
“Not precisely,” he replied, lips twitching. “A game I learned in the officers’ mess. ‘Two Truths and a Dare.’”
Lady Eastbury’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”
Leticia laughed. “You would.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “I shall begin, then.”
He lifted a hand. “I once lost a duel of words with Lady Marchmont. I’ve never danced the quadrille without stepping on a partner’s toes. And I once climbed the library shelves at Eton to retrieve a contraband volume ofArs Amatoria.”
Lady Eastbury lifted a brow. “The duel is true, obviously.”
Leticia grinned. “You stepped on a partner’s toes.”
