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“Emil Franklin.”
“Shit! Why didn’t you say so?”
“When would I have told you? When you were fucking Fletch? Or maybe when you were making French toast for everybody? Seriously, Claire; I just found this out, and it’s not like we’ve had a lot of time to talk in private and I didn’t think you’d want the boys to know.”
“Well, that gives this whole thing another wrinkle,” said Claire.
“Precisely, which is why I don’t think he’s the one trying to kill you. I would think, if anything, he’d want us on his side, supplying him with what we know.”
“It certainly gives Sir Godfrey additional motive.”
“That’s what I was thinking, but I didn’t want to say anything until we were alone.”
Claire leaned forward in her seat. “So, what makes this a good time to go after the Clarion?”
“The Hardisons have been ordered to produce the necklace in order for an expert to examine it and verify its authenticity.”
Claire nodded. “That’ll be their first line of defense, that the Clarion Necklace isn’t actually the Clarion Necklace. Who’s the appraiser?”
Mia laughed. “Oh, you’re going to love this. Gemma Neville.”
“Gemma as in Evangeline’s friend?”
“The one and the same.” Mia rolled her eyes and shook her head. “And it gets so much better. They’re taking the necklace to the Robbins’ estate…”
“Where I grew up?”
Mia nodded as she tried to stifle her laughter. “And where your granda was left a cottage at the back of the property in perpetuity for services rendered.”
Claire started laughing. “Seriously?”
Mia raised her right hand above her head. “My hand to God. I would hasten to point out that it will make Evangeline and Gemma look like idiots. The court wanted it examined in the Lloyd’s office, but Evangeline and her old man applied pressure and got it sent to an ‘undisclosed location,’ which I found. So, my dear friend, what do you want to do?”
And therein lay the question. She had wanted a shot at the Clarion for so very long and now it was sitting in a house on a property she had known almost all of her life. It was almost too perfect, almost too good to be believed. But too good to be ignored.
She’d made a promise to Fletch, but she’d made one to Poppi as well. The two didn’t have to be mutually exclusive, did they? Claire knew she’d been lucky in that no one—except perhaps Fletch—had any evidence linking her to any crimes. Wouldn’t she be better off to honor the pledge to Fletch over the vow she’d made to Poppi?
Claire wondered why this was a question at all. She knew for certain which choice both men would make—keep the promise to Fletch. After all, that’s what her heart wanted her to do. And her brain said it was the rational thing to do… and yet, she had wanted the Clarion for a very, very long time.
“What are you thinking?” asked Mia.
“It would be awfully easy. I suppose it would be easy to think of this as a prior commitment to what I told Fletch. What’s the old song about a pocket full of mumbles being like promises? We could keep it quiet…”
“Forget that. The minute you and I go dark, and that necklace gets pinched, Fletch will know who’s behind it. He’s a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them. We’re going to need to get away, leave them a false trail, and then sneak back into England.”
“What about that fishing trawler we used to take us across the channel and whose captain hooked us up with his buddy with the sailing skiff to take us up the Thames. Those boys seemed to like a little illegality with their paid-under-the-table fares.”
Claire laughed. “They did, indeed. The fisherman was out of Calais, as I recall, and he put us in touch with the riverboat guy. Now there’s an inspiring moniker—the riverboat guy.”
“Any idea how we get to Calais? I’m pretty sure the minute the boys realize we’re gone, they’ll be all over this train.”
Claire nodded. “We need to move now and figure out how we get off without alerting them.” She tapped her lip thinking. “We have our bags in here, which is helpful, and they were going to get food. Let me see what else they might have on this train that we could want.”
“How much of a delay do we want?” asked Mia with an impish grin.
“As much as we can get without getting them hurt or thrown in jail.”
“What if we tell the conductor or security or whatever they call themselves and let them know we’re leaving and don’t want to be followed. Maybe there’s a woman and we can tell her we need an angel shot. I know that’s normally used in bars, but I think she’ll get the drift.”
