He pretended to sulk even though she had a point. “You are no fun.”
“When I work on any investigation, I am thorough and never leave a stone unturned. Not to put too fine a point on it, you need me, Giles, or you’re done for.” She followed him to the door, and he opened it then stepped back to allow her to pass first, which she did before she paused. “Did you check inside the watch case for an inscription?”
As if she knew he hadn’t, she marched back to the nightstand. With nimble fingers she clicked it open and scanned inside the lid, then shook the mechanism out. He could tell the way her brows kissed and her lush lips pursed that she had found something.
“Is this the duchess?” She held up the case, and Giles was staggered to see an enamel inset in the back.
He took the watch and stared at the picture of the woman. Despite the crudity of the execution, he could see she was pretty. Dark curls, dark eyes. Mouth slightly curved in an enigmatic smile as if something amused her. “No. I have no idea who she is.” But all at once he felt a connection with her. Was that wishful thinking? Desperation?
Probably both.
“Interesting…” She couldn’t resist a smile. “Clearly the duke wasn’t quite as unsentimental as you thought, Giles.”
“Clearly.” But staggering regardless. He now had more questions about the past, and the man who had fathered him, than he’d had five minutes ago. More questions but not a single answer. “Who is she and why is she in this watch?”
“Can you hear that?” She cupped her ear with her hand and grinned into the silence. “The first distant buzz of a long-buried hornet.”
“Is that your unsubtle way of telling me that you told me so?”
“One room down—another fifteen to go.”
“Fifteen?” He pretended to whine like a petulant child. “Then we are going to need more biscuits.”
She rolled her eyes as she sailed out, expecting him to follow, and he did. But not before he pocketed the watch, suddenly needing to have it with him even though he had no idea why.
Chapter Twenty
It was late evening by the time Diana got home. After the better part of the day searching the upper floors of the duke’s house, she had gone to the newspaper to delve into the printed history of the Sinclair family, and then completely lost track of the time.
“And what time do you call this?” Olivia’s voice came from the drawing room. “Dinner is in less than fifteen minutes, young lady.” Family meals were sacrosanct as far as the new matriarch was concerned. Diana forgave it because Olivia was so lax and understanding about everything else.
“I can change and be presentable in five.”
She hurried up the stairs, grateful to find the maid had already laid out her clothes on the bed and filled the washbowl with fresh water. A quick swish confirmed that while it was no longer hot, it was tepid enough to do. She had stripped to her undergarments when her door opened.
“Can you help me with my hair, Tabetha?”
“Tabetha has a nasty sniffle so I sent her to bed with a toddy.” Instead of the maid, it was Olivia who wandered in. “And as Vee is doing Minerva’s I thought I’d come to do your hair instead.”
“There’s really no need. I can manage myself.” Just as Diana always had before life had diverted her from the path she had always known.
“I know, dear, but indulge me. I am still not happy about abandoning you for Hampshire.” Persuasive blue eyes locked with hers in the mirror’s reflection. “You could still change your mind and spend New Year’s with us and travel back the week after?”
Diana shot her an exasperated look, and the other woman smiled her resignation. They had been over this at least fifty times in different guises in the past few weeks so Olivia knew she wouldn’t budge. As usual, she had pleaded her work at the newspaper as the excuse to stay in Mayfair, because if she discounted Giles’s predicament it was almost true. With everyone back in town for Christmas, Charlie needed all hands on deck atThe Tribune—especially Diana’s.
While extended breaks were the norm for the well-to-do, those who worked for a living did not have the luxury of disappearing willy-nilly for a month at a time to rusticate in the countryside. While she technically no longer needed to work for a living, it was inconceivable to her that she wouldn’t. Earning her own money was something two decades of poverty had taught her went hand in hand with independence. She also wouldn’t leave Charlie in the lurch at one of the busiest times of the year, any more than she would entrust leaving the important work she did for him to one of the less diligent reporters. And then there was the Coleridge story. She was so close to unmasking that scoundrel, she could taste it.
“I know… the newspaper cannot spare you and none of them can spell for toffee, and I also know that I am not your mother oryour guardian or officially your anything and that you are long past the age of majority and free to do as you please. But it still doesn’t sit right with me to leave you alone here with nobody to watch over you.”
“All alone bar the housekeeper, the three footmen, four maids, the cook, the scullery maid, the stable master, two grooms, the stable boy, and the coachman who you insist takes me everywhere…” Diana ticked off Hugh’s Berkeley Square staff on her fingers. “How on earth will I cope in all this secure luxury?” She gestured around her sumptuous bedchamber. “And for only three weeks, too?”
“If you are going to make fun of me, then at least let me fuss over you a little bit to ease my overprotective conscience.” The older woman smiled at her. “Even though you hate it.”
“I don’t hate it, I just…” She sighed, uncomfortable with the over-familiarity and unnecessary concern while being touched by it at the same time. “I am not used to it, that is all.” Diana had been nine when her mother died, and she had little memory of being mothered by the woman before then. Minerva had tried to fill that void for Vee but they were too similar in age for her to do that for Diana, so she had learned to be self-sufficient long before she had had to be.
“It has only ever been the three of you. I understand. And all this is still so new, it takes a bit of getting used to. In your shoes, I, too, would probably be wary of it. You are here only because your sister decided to marry my son, and knowing you as well as I already do, you would have managed just as well if she hadn’t. I would also resent any curtailing of my hard-won freedoms, no matter how well meant. But this is just hair, Diana—not an offer of adoption or a new set of restrictive rules.”
Olivia grinned as she picked up the hairbrush and motioned for her to sit. “I am not trying to become your mother or curtail your lifestyle or even try to stop you writing for that gossip column.” Before Diana could deny it, she wagged the brush to stop her. “In fact, I am rather proud that at such a young age, you are your own woman and have found your own path. Why do you think I have never tried to stop you working there?”
