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"No, Papa, you won't. You can't." The look she gave him was a plea for understanding, for trust. "We all knew what Sardo's technique would be. It hardly comes as a surprise that he means to seduce me into revealing details or, at the very least, into offering my allegiance to Baricci. That was the whole reason behind our arranging for Ashford to be present throughout each session." She turned to Ashford. "If I feel threatened, I'll manage to let you know. I'll get your attention—I promise. But unless that happens, you've got to let me do what I must: flirt with André, encourage him enough to let down his guard and loosen his tongue."
Reluctantly, Ashford nodded. "Fine. I'll try to control myself."
"Papa?" Noelle inquired.
Eric scowled at the paint-splattered floor.
"If things get out of hand, I'll kill him for you," Ashford vowed.
That did the trick. "All right. I'll trust Tremlett's judgment."
"And mine?" Noelle asked pointedly.
"Yes, Noelle—and yours." Eric gazed questioningly at her. "On the subject of judgment, did you learn anything of importance today?"
"Only a little. As you saw for yourself, André is very moody and easily rankled. I had to tread carefully."
"Speaking of which, he was damned reluctant to discuss any other artists Baricci deals with," Ashford muttered, half to himself. "I wonder why."
"That struck me as odd, too. And I don't believe it's strictly professional jealousy," Noelle declared. "Any more than I believe André was unaware of my blood ties to Baricci before we had our little talk. I watched him while we were speaking. He hides his reactions well, but there's a tension there that's palpable. He's performing a part—a part Baricci wants him to play."
"I agree." Ashford folded his arms across his chest. "But why is he unwilling to name other artists whose works are featured alongside his? Is that Baricci's idea or his? Could it be that Sardo knows of an artist who's working illegally with Baricci, and he's afraid to give away that name for fear of ending up like Emily Mannering?"
"Do we know for certain Sardo himself isn't helping Baricci steal those paintings?" Eric asked.
"If you mean, do we know for a fact that he hasn't been present during the robberies, yes." Ashford nodded. "Given how closely associated he is with Baricci, Sardo was originally one of my prime suspects. But I had him checked out months ago. He had alibis for every one of the thefts." A frown. "Then again, so did Baricci So all that suggests to me is that Baricci doesn't dirty his hands. He hires thugs to do the actual stealing. After which, he takes over. As for Sardo—I don't know the full extent of his involvement. But I don't think he has the intelligence, the keenness of mind, to conjure up this scheme with Baricci."
"Perhaps André isn't actively involved at all but is just aware of Baricci's guilt," Noelle proposed. "Isn't it possible he's spotted one or more of the stolen paintings during his visits to the gallery?" She made a frustrated sound. "I wanted to move towards asking him that; I even paved the way by bringing up the Rembrandt. But the timing was all wrong. He was so adamant about not discussing other artists' works. If I'd pressed him by delving deeper into the other paintings he's seen come and go, he would have gotten suspicious. And we can't take that chance. Not yet."
"We have three days to mull over what we've learned, gather new information, and refine our plan before your next session with Sardo." Ashford's glance shifted to Eric. "Which reminds me, thank you for buying us those three days. Your tactics were excellent. Sardo thinks you need the time to restore the sitting room."
A corner of Eric's mouth lifted. "We do."
Ashford took in the room and grunted. "Good point." A sober look. "In the meantime, I'll visit Mannering, see if I can learn anything that would point in Baricci's direction. I'll leave for London immediately." His gaze strayed to Noelle, and he cleared his throat, addressing Eric. "May I speak with Noelle alone for a minute?"
"Tremlett, I don't think that's necessary. You already had more than enough time alone together earlier today…"
"Papa!" Chloe hovered in the doorway, her hair disheveled, a smudge of paint on one cheek. "I've tried every way I know to stop Tempest's rampage, but she's determined to rub the paint off her fur by rolling on every carpet and against every curtain in the house. Now she's attacking our clothing, Mama's in close pursuit, but none of us is swift enough to catch her." A dramatic pause. "She's about to dive into the new gowns you bought us for Noelle's court presentation, and Mama's so afraid that—"
"Dammit." Eric was already tak
ing long strides towards the hall. "It took that modiste months to finish those gowns. If that bloody cat ruins them…" The rest of his threat was lost as he charged past Chloe and disappeared toward the staircase
Chloe peered after him, ensuring he'd gone. Then she stepped away from the sitting-room threshold, gripping the door handle and tossing Noelle and Ashford a saucy grin. "That might not save your gown, but it should buy you several minutes." She nodded her encouragement, the perception in her eyes wise beyond her years. "Use them well."
The door shut behind her.
Ashford's jaw dropped. "Your sister is priceless," he determined, amazement etched on his every feature. "A true genius at only thirteen years old."
"Of course." Noelle couldn't wait to hug Chloe for her quick thinking and tender, romantic heart. "Resourcefulness runs in my family."
"And mine." Ashford's grin faded quickly, and he drew Noelle into his arms, enfolded her against him. "Let's not waste an instant of the time Chloe has gifted us," he urged, tunneling his fingers through her hair and lifting her face to receive his kiss. "Not one extraordinary instant."
Noelle's reply was lost beneath the pressure of his mouth, the excitement of his tongue as it possessed hers. Fervently, she wound her arms about his neck, losing herself to the magic, and wishing they had hours, rather than minutes, to explore what was happening between them.
"I'm not sorry for wanting to choke Sardo," Ashford muttered against her parted lips. "I might still do it when all this is over and Baricci is in Newgate where he belongs." He raised his head, brushed each corner of her mouth with his. "I want no one's arms around you but mine. Rational or not, it's the way I feel."
"I don't want anyone's arms around me but yours," Noelle breathed, rising up on tiptoe to, once again, deepen the kiss. "What's more, a London Season won't change that. Nothing will."
