Page 19 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“If they could,” Melinda said. “Any servant trying to sell such a valuable item would be suspected of theft.”

“That might not be a concern, if he or she stole it at the behest of a collector,” Miles said.

“Or of someone who habitually sells such goods to collectors,” Daisy said. “Oh, dear.”

They chattered on, but meanwhile, the precious book was gone and might have been gone for months. She should have given it to Miles for safekeeping, but she’d been too upset to think of anything but getting away from everyone and starting over.

Daisy stood, and she and Julian passed an unspoken message between them, the way couples often do. Usually when Gloriana witnessed such intimate communication, she suffered a pang of envy, but today, misery trumped all.

“Please excuse us,” Daisy said, and they left the room.

Glumly, Gloriana returned to the Dower House, passing Julian and Daisy as they walked on the wintry lawn, talking and gesticulating.

“Impossible,” Julian was saying. “You’re mad to suggest it.”

“It’s not impossible, and you know it.” Daisy caught sight of Gloriana and lowered her voice. Whatever their dispute, it was none of Gloriana’s business.

She couldn’t think what to do. She tried to make herself sit still. She took up her tambour frame and set a few stitches. She opened a book but couldn’t get past the first page. Elspeth kindly offered tea and cakes, but Gloriana refused, for her appetite had vanished. She had to do something, but what?

She put on her cloak and went for a walk, hoping for some solace from the wintry outdoors. Bare trees and a cloudy sky weren’t much help. Even the ducks in the reeds looked gloomy.

“Glow!”

It was Daisy. With her was Sir Julian, stern and more disapproving than usual. He was a civil sort of man, but he didn’t pretend to like Gloriana. This was her fault—they had started off on the wrong foot—but as long as Daisy remained her friend, she didn’t care a button about Sir Julian.

They met and turned in a group to stroll along the lake.

“You must promise not to tell anyone what I am about to reveal,” Daisy said. “Julian and I cannot agree about this.”

“Definitely not,” Julian said.

“But my conscience obliges me to confide in you. I am most probably wrong, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I have an idea who may have stolen your Book of Hours.”

“Who?” Gloriana cried. “For God’s sake, tell me!”

“It’s just that . . . Philippe de Bellechasse used to be a thief.”

“Philippe?” Her mind whirled. “A thief? No, surely not.” She turned to Sir Julian, who nodded stiffy.

“Kindly keep this information confidential,” he said. “Whatever he may have done in the past, I am certain Philippe is no longer engaged in theft.”

“How can you be?” Daisy asked. “He didn’t promise not to steal anymore. In fact, he was purposely evasive. I don’t trust him.”

But I do, Gloriana thought suddenly and astonishingly. Was she a fool in this way as well?

“He stole antiquities that had been plundered in France during the Revolution and bought by collectors here in England, and then he sold them back to their previous owners.”

“Good Lord,” Gloriana whispered. “It’s hard to believe.”

“Nevertheless, it’s true. He confessed as much to Julian and me.”

“He felt he was restoring the antiquities to their rightful owners,” Julian said. “Those who buy stolen goods risk losing their investment.”

“He was doing it to make a profit.” Daisy flapped a hand at her husband. “I understand that he needed money. I’m only saying that he has stolen before and may steal again.”