I crouched down.
“What is that?” Noah asked, leaning closer.
My fingers brushed glitter aside until they closed around something cool and metal.
A locket.
A delicate, antique-style locket with a twisted chain, with a tiny hinge on one side.
A flashback hit hard and fast: The antique store.
Evelyn’s gentle voice saying the mystery shopper looking to sell an item, had ended up buying“A locket perhaps, or a pin.”
A locket.
Oh God.
Noah stared at it, jaw tightening. “Do you think this is the same person who’s been searching the estate? The one who broke into the East Wing cabinet? And who went to the antique store?”
“It has to be,” I whispered.
A cold shiver slid down my spine. Whoever last handled this bit of jewellery had been here. In this room. Among the guests. Amongus.
A shadow moved across the doorway.
Noah’s head lifted. “Someone’s outside.”
I turned just in time to see Cooper, Lady Beaumont’s driver, walking briskly past, checking his watch, posture stiff and strangely urgent.
Without thinking, I rushed towards the doorway.
“Cooper!” I called.
He stopped immediately, straightening in that trained, old-school butler-esque way.
“Ms Sinclair,” he said politely. “Mr Langston.”
Noah nodded to him.
I held up the locket. “Do you recognise this?”
For the briefest fraction of a second, a flicker, a flash, Cooper’s expression cracked.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes widened by the tiniest millimetre.
He recovered almost immediately, clearing his throat. “Yes. I know who this belongs to.”
Noah shifted beside me, voice low. “Who?”
Cooper held out a hand. “That is a private matter.” he said smoothly. “Please allow me to return it to its rightful owner.”
Something cold settled in my gut.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “We’d like to…”
“I will handle it,” he said, with the polite firmness of someone who had just ended the conversation.
He slipped the locket into his inside jacket pocket, nodded once, turned, and strode away with purposeful steps, straight towards the west wing.
