Professor Tresham approached, hands clasped behind his back.
“Lady Salisbury, Ashcombe,” he greeted. “A fascinating piece you wear this evening. The diamond pattern is rather reminiscent of a Prussian setting from the late eighteenth century.”
“It was my mother’s,” Leticia replied evenly.
“Ah. Sentimental value, then. Still, one might argue pieces belong in preservation, not circulation.”
Gabriel stepped forward. “Some heirlooms were meant to beworn.”
Tresham inclined his head. “Of course. I only meant to admire it. Enjoy your evening.”
He disappeared before she could respond.
“He’s deflecting,” Leticia said quietly.
“Or collecting information,” Gabriel answered just as quietly.
They began to move again, weaving back into the flow of guests. Gabriel caught sight of another familiar face, another of Barrington’s guards, subtly redirecting a footman from the western hallway. The net was drawing in.
Erica returned.
She caught Leticia just as she turned toward the refreshments.
“Letty,” she said with a sly smile. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to pry earlier. But I must say, you wear that piece so well. Especially given all the stories lately.”
Leticia raised an eyebrow. “Stories?”
“You were at Lady Marchmont’s masquerade. Bits of jewelry have gone missing. Odd, isn’t it? Pieces without pedigree, but suddenly sought-after.” She sipped. “Just the sort of thing that makes a soirée sparkle.”
Leticia met her eyes. “Rumors have a way of starting somewhere.”
“Yes,” Erica said sweetly. “But they never end where you expect.”
She moved on.
Leticia watched her disappear into the crowd. She exhaled slow and steady. That wasn’t a conversation. It was a warning. Erica had revealed too much in just a few words. Not to implicate herself, but to rattle Leticia’s grip.
Gabriel returned to her side. “What did she want?”
“To remind me I’m not the only one who knows the stories.”
He offered her his arm. She took it.
“We have enough,” she said. “Don’t we?”
“We have motive. We have an opportunity. But we don’t haveproof.” He gently patted her hand.
“We must draw them out.”
Gabriel looked out over the crowd. “Barrington is posted at the corridor. His men are in place. The exits are covered.”
Leticia nodded. She moved toward the heart of the salon, where the candlelight was brightest. Not by accident. By choice.
And in that moment, she became something more than a woman in satin and diamonds. She stepped into the candlelight with intent. She became the center of gravity, the point every gaze tilted toward, whether they knew it or not.
Gabriel couldn’t breathe. His gaze swept instinctively to the walls, three men in position, good men, but not fast enough if someone made a move.
Leticia didn’t glance back. Didn’t look for him. She didn’t need to.
