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‘Is that what I do?’ He stretched his long legs out in front of him, the edge of his hips on the stool, a pose of studied insolence.
‘You know it is. I wonder you don’t prowl the hallways at night listening for squeaking floorboards!’ she scoffed.
‘Oh, I can assure you there are no squeaks, this house is very soundly built,’ he said mildly. ‘Although as it happens I do suffer a little intermittent insomnia, so don’t be surprised if you do blunder into me on some dark night…’
‘Unlikely. Once I go to bed, I never budge!’ she snapped.
‘Really?’ He quirked an eyebrow. ‘That surprises me—I would have thought you were very active in bed. How disconcerting for your lover—’
‘I don’t have a lover,’ she gritted, ignoring the tingling warmth flooding the pit of her stomach. ‘Least of all in this house!’
‘Yet…’
She gave a sharp cry of frustration. ‘You never give up, do you? You just can’t admit that you might be wrong. You’re the most cynical and untrusting man I’ve ever met!’
‘It’s part of my charm,’ he drawled, rising to his feet. ‘You did know the appraiser’s interim report had arrived?’
The swift change of subject was like a punch to the heart, turning the liquid warmth in her stomach to acid.
‘I knew it was due,’ she said, turning to the sink to pull on her rubber gloves and check the soiled plate she had been soaking in a plastic bowl of mild bleach solution. ‘I was the one who asked for it to be done, after all…’
‘Only after I’d told you I was going to suggest it to Uncle Peter—’
‘But you didn’t, did you?’ she took pleasure in pointing out. She rinsed off the plate under the tap and placed it into a fresh bath of solution. ‘You didn’t seem to take me at my word when I said I was happy for an appraiser to do a valuation—I don’t know why—so I insisted it be done to make sure that you’d have no reason to make any more unproven accusations.’ she stripped off the rubber gloves and flung them back into the cupboard under the sink with unaccustomed lack of care for where they might land.
‘Aren’t you interested in what it has to say?’
She washed her hands under the cold tap in the empty sink. ‘I’d rather wait for the final report—’
‘He says there are at least six items which at first glance are of suspect provenance.’
‘Really?’ she concentrated on drying her hands and rearranging the towel on its hanger.
He stepped up behind her, alive with frustration. ‘You don’t seem very concerned,’ he prodded.
She spun around, trying to ignore the disturbing proximity of his lean body. ‘I’m not,’ she said, keeping her voice calm. ‘Rose has two hundred and thirty individual pieces—most of which she searched out and bought herself, all over the world, and not always from reputable dealers. I would be very surprised if some of them weren’t dodgy—or at least not worth as much as she paid for them. It doesn’t mean that fraud was involved.’
She saw the ice move into his eyes and despaired at getting him to understand.
‘Even the best experts can be fooled and Rose was just a gifted amateur. She liked bargaining and she didn’t specialise in one type of porcelain or era as most people do, she was a bit of a magpie—when she saw something she liked the look of, or that had an interesting history, she bought it. That’s what made her collection fun for her—monetary value was never the point, it was all about the emotions associated with her find. Of course a thorough appraisal should be done for insurance purposes, or if a collection is being offered for sale, but I don’t see Peter ever wanting to let go Rose’s collection, do you? So identifying a few dubious pieces is not a disaster for him—unless it’s the value your own future inheritance you’re worrying about…?’
He brushed aside her angry slur as being beneath his notice. ‘You didn’t notice anything wrong yourself?’
Pride clawed her shoulders back. ‘Are you accusing me of something?’ she challenged.
His face hardened. ‘I’m just asking.’
Was this some kind of trap?
‘Then, without knowing which pieces are involved, I couldn’t say,’ she said with furious dignity. ‘I’ve seen the full collection, yes, but I haven’t handled or examined everything with an eye to authentication. I’ve just done cleaning and restoration work on damaged or deteriorated items. But if Mickleson thinks that the provenance is shaky, you can trust that his research will bear out his initial findings. He has a nose for that kind of thing.’
‘You know him personally?’ he said sharply, as if it was a crime.
‘Only by reputation. He’s the best in the country. That’s why I mentioned his name to Peter. I’m only surprised he could do it so quickly, he’s usually booked up for months—’ she broke off, having said too much. He would probably take that as an indication that she had hoped for precisely such a delay.
‘I paid him double his fee.’
She folded her arms in disgust. ‘No wonder you think everyone is for sale—maybe for you, they are…’
