Page 75 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“My dear man, they are inferior,” the earl said.

The marquis snorted. “I’ll wager you also hold to the absurd view that wives must obey their husbands.”

“It is in the marriage vows,” the earl said. “Although it need not be, as we are the stronger sex.”

Gloriana’s clamped lips were white and bloodless. Philippe sat back, arms crossed, with a tight smile of satisfaction. Poor Gloriana. Everyone was doing the utmost to show her what a mistake she was about to make.

Oblivious, Lord Hythwick returned to the previous topic of discussion. “Other collectors from the north were there—I don’t recall who—but I’m sure old Garrison also bought something from that Breton fellow. Nothing significant, or I would have remembered, for had the item been truly desirable, I should have purchased it myself. And yet I distinctly recall his presence, as he was not in the best of health but nevertheless had traveled all the way to London.”

Gloriana reassumed her habitual hauteur with a touch of truly grim determination. “The chess set?” She indicated the board and pieces displayed on the table by the window. “It’s of Spanish origin, so it might easily have belonged to someone in France. I don’t think it’s one of the items we’ve had for generations, such as the Book of Hours.”

“Ah, yes, the Book of Hours,” the earl said. “I should like to have a glance at it whilst I’m here.”

“Certainly.” Gloriana preened as if the presence of the book in the Garrison collection was due to her own efforts. Her glance flicked to the marquis and away again.

Philippe de Bellechasse said nothing. Daisy had the feeling that he too wished for a glimpse of the precious book, which would doubtless have religious significance to a Catholic, but knew better than to ask.

After an uneasy pause, Daisy steered the conversation back on course. “Might it indeed be that very chess set?”

“It’s not,” Miles said. “He bought that set when I was a child. He was an avid collector all his life.”

A polite host would, at this point, offer to show his guest said collection. Miles did not.

Another awkward pause ensued. Melinda busied herself with the tea tray again. Daisy dragged her mind away from useless contemplation of Gloriana’s folly and concentrated on the strange facts they had just learned, and how they might be connected with The Lady’s Revenge.

There was no chess set amongst the charms in Daisy’s novels, and Garrison House wasn’t in Manchester, the next location in her list after York, so most likely whatever old Lord Garrison had bought didn’t matter. But what if someone in Manchester was about to lose a valuable item? She widened her eyes at Julian, who squeezed her hand again and whispered in her ear. “We’ll discuss it in private.”

She nodded, wishing they were alone together now.

“The fruits of his travels are all over the house,” Melinda said, when it was clear from the stubborn tilt of Miles’s chin that he’d had enough. “Everywhere one turns, in fact. That painting, for example—” She indicated a still life over the mantel. “I believe he found that in Italy. By what Miles has told me, most of the collection was purchased well in advance of the Revolution.”

“And cost him a great deal more, I expect,” the earl said, accepting a cup of tea from her. “The Revolution afforded collectors some excellent bargains, as well as giving us the opportunity to play our part in rescuing some of France’s great treasures from the canaille.”

“And, needless to say, you intend to return them to their previous owners when the time is right,” the Marquis de Bellechasse murmured.

The earl laughed. “They’re all dead, my dear marquis, courtesy of Madame Guillotine.”

“But they may have living descendants,” the marquis said. “Here in England, or in Austria or elsewhere.”

“Indeed, indeed, but while that upstart rules France, they have no hope of regaining their lands, and therefore lack the ability to repurchase their belongings.” He gave another windy sigh. “I believe these particular treasures are in England for good.”

“Did your family lose many such items?” Melinda asked with ready sympathy.

“I was estranged from my family by the time our chateau was attacked and burnt to the ground,” the marquis said. “It is likely that some items were removed, whether by family members or thieves. As to their whereabouts . . .” He gave a Gallic shrug.

“Do you not long to recover them?” Melinda asked.

“Why? Possessions are fleeting. Perhaps someone else enjoys them now. One hopes so. And if they were destroyed . . .” He shrugged again. “The past is gone. Why dwell on it?”

“How very philosophical,” Gloriana said sarcastically.

“It’s a good attitude,” Melinda retorted.

“Most commendable,” Miles said.

Gloriana sniffed. “To you, perhaps. To me, it is incomprehensible. Let’s get up a table of whist. Lord Hythwick is an excellent player.”

“Perhaps Lady Kerr would deign to play pianoforte for us first,” the marquis said.

“What a good notion,” Melinda said. “I hear you are a most accomplished pianist, Lady Kerr.”

“So very kind,” Daisy said, wondering whether to plead shyness or fatigue. Not that she would ordinarily object to playing, but she had other things on her mind.

“Not a tedious sonata, but a ballad,” Philippe suggested. “A rousing song of the common people.” He sent a mischievous glance at Gloriana, whose eyes widened with dismay.

“Another time,” Daisy said. Why must he continually bait Gloriana? Her choice of husband was no business of his.

“You’re tired, darling.” Julian stood, pulling Daisy with him. “Pray excuse us, Lady Garrison. My wife and I wish to retire early.”

Melinda laughed and murmured something about newlyweds. Heat surged within Daisy. She must surely be crimson all the way to her eyebrows.

With a bow and a curtsey, they left the room.