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All the men chuckled. He had no doubts that they all saw straight through him. While he would love to depart their company, he came here for one reason—a chance to speak with Somerton alone. After more questioning about the Italian women, the men finished their brandies.
When the men slowly rose to join their wives in the salon, Nicholas placed a hand on Somerton’s arm. Somerton replied with an arched brow and a smirk.
“Go ahead,” Somerton said to the others. “I need to speak with Nicholas about something in private.”
“Thank you,” Nich
olas said, once the other three had left. “I know you can find things others are unable to find.”
“Just tell me what you want, Nicholas,” Somerton said impatiently.
Nicholas pulled a diamond earring out of his jacket pocket. “I need to discover to whom this belongs.”
He snatched the earring out of Nicholas’s hand. Somerton frowned as he examined it. Staring at the earring, he said, “So I believe your trip was far better than you had informed us.”
“It was only one night in Venice. I don’t even know her name. She told me her name but I doubt she spoke the truth.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t tell her my real name.”
Somerton shrugged. “There are no identifying marks on the earring.”
“Is there anything you can do?”
Somerton went silent for a moment as if in deep thought. With a grimace, he said, “Take it to Miss Reynard. She might be able to give you some information.”
“Bloody hell! Not you too.”
Somerton smirked and shook his head. “She is also a medium. She has assisted me numerous times when I worked for Ainsworth.”
“You think she can tell me who owns this earring?” Nicholas held out his hand for the earring.
“Oh, I think she will know exactly who owns the earring.” Somerton scraped back his chair and rose. “Excuse me.”
Nicholas nodded. Instead of immediately joining the group, he stared at the earring wondering once more where Sophia was at that very moment.
Sophie heard Hendricks open the front door and she wondered who was here so early. None of her clients arrived before noon and it was only ten. Hearing the hard footfalls, she knew who was here and the idea of seeing her half brother lightened her mood tremendously.
But the closer he came to the small parlor where she sat, the more she felt his dark mood. Something was wrong.
He stopped at the threshold before walking into the room and slamming the door behind him. “Ancroft?”
Sophie’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t possibly know! “What are you talking about, Anthony?”
His fury came closer to her. “Ancroft! You slept with him in Venice.”
“He knows?” she whispered. “He knows it was me?”
“No, he doesn’t know it was you. He believes he slept with some Italian woman who wouldn’t give him her real name.” Somerton put his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned in closer. “How could you have slept with him?”
She knew his tactic was to frighten her, but that was the last thing she needed at this point. Fear of discovery had been biting on her heels since she left Venice.
“I did not know it was him,” she mumbled. “I had no idea it was Ancroft until after . . .”
He growled and turned away from her. “You let him touch you when you didn’t even know who he was?”
“And I suppose you have never done such a thing,” Sophie said in a sarcastic tone.
