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Because as soon as that news story had hit, he’d received a stream of furious messages on his phone. Sara’s family, making all kinds of accusations, demands and threats. The accusations he relished, especially from her brother, with whom he had a close to hostile history from school. He took a hand from the steering wheel and rubbed the side of his neck where his scar prickled as a reminder. As for the demands, he ignored—
‘Are you all right?’ Sara asked, taking her eyes from the road.
‘Of course,’ he said. Yet a flicker like a pilot light lit inside his chest. That she should care about him, when she was the one in need of protection. Her family’s threats... He’d be damned if she was going back to that cold little alpine country where she’d be married off to some dolt who wouldn’t care for her.He’dcare for her, make sure no harm befell her. Protecting her was a chance to begin atoning for his multitude of sins.
They arrived at the stately, if somewhat worn-looking, house. Weeds invaded the gravel drive where they pulled up outside. He did the polite thing and opened the door for her, and then they were let into a dim front entrance by a member of staff. Lance’s professional eye immediately began assessing the property. Thinning rugs on the floor. Dust motes glittering in a single beam of sunshine. The place was cold because the heating hadn’t been turned on. The house spoke of gradual disrepair.
He’d seen it many times before. Families prioritising keeping up with their peers, forgetting the upkeep required for a property such as this. Then death arrived, with poorly planned inheritance and taxes, which was where he came in. His heartbeat picked up and he flexed his fingers. It always hit him the same way the minute he walked into one of these places. The excitement of the unknown, the quest to find incredible treasures hidden away for centuries.
He hoped it would excite Sara too, bring her out of the inertia that seemed to cloak her in this moment. Her smile was tight, the joy in it somehow subdued. She was probably bothered by the way he’d stared at her earlier like a leering teenager. In truth, he still couldn’t keep his eyes from her. The gentle sway as she walked allowed the beautiful dress to twirl about her legs. A bright cardigan was wrapped around her shoulders, embroidered with flowers, her legs encased in boots. She was every country fantasy brought to life. And right now she stood in this drab entrance hall, in the only shaft of sunlight filtering through the smudged windows, brightening up the space with yellow and flowers and her indisputableglow. Looking like some glorious spring garden, with her blonde hair a wild and wonderful tangle down her back.
‘We’ll start in the attic. I’ll send my people to assess the rest of the items later.’
The open, lived-in spaces where the obvious treasures would be displayed. His staff could value those, see if there was anything that might be interesting for sale. His speciality had always been the hidden areas—cupboards, cellars, attics—where people hid their treasures as well as their secrets.
‘Why here first?’ It was the first thing Sara had said in a while, her voice soft and musical, stroking over his skin like a feather.
They were led up a set of stairs that creaked underfoot, and then through several doors that did much the same, as if they hadn’t been opened for years. Then they were alone with a large key in a dim, confined space under the roof. There was a dry, aged smell of dust, but it wasn’t in as parlous a state as many attics he’d come across. Disappointing—the more dust the better. This looked a little too tidy. He flicked on the light to enhance the natural sun coming through the skylight.
‘This is where secrets are kept.’
Sara lifted a dust cover from some bulky piece of furniture and peered underneath. ‘You like that, don’t you? Finding things out about people.’
‘There are too many secrets kept in this world. People who pretend to be paragons of virtue. I like uncovering them, even if it’s only to satisfy my own curiosity.’
If he’d done any kind of job uncovering the sins of Vic’s husband, she might never have married. She’d have been safe.
‘Treasure...secrets... You found a Caravaggio, but what secrets have you uncovered?’
He shrugged. ‘Lost loves, grand affairs, erotic collections. You name it, I uncover it.’
‘That’s almost...voyeuristic.’
‘There can be something quite salacious about it that piques my interest.’
He winked and she began to giggle. It was such a bright and beautiful sound. She’d had enough misery. This woman should be smiling for ever.
‘You’re incorrigible.’
Lance bowed. ‘Yes. I’m irredeemable. No matter what will be said about your capacity to reform me.’
‘I don’t want to reform you, whatever that means. A scoundrel is what I asked for, after all.’
‘You might amend your view if you saw the worst of me.’
She leaned up against a mahogany sideboard, cocked her head to the side. ‘I’m not really sure I would.’
The moment lingered. It was as if she were trying to reach inside him and weigh his soul. Part of him wondered what she found. Another part dreaded her conclusion. Yet whilst she stood as if trying to judge his worth, all he could see was her next to his bed, looking at the space he’d slept in as if she were imagining him still there.
He broke the silence first, looking around the space. ‘Sadly, this attic is too clean to find much. Give me something dirtier. That’s where the greatest treasure is found.’
She let out a sigh, hands on her hips as she looked around. The moment passed, and he regretted ending it rather than seeing where it led. ‘Where to start?’
‘I’ll take this end.’ He pointed to one side of the room. ‘You take the other and we’ll meet in the middle. Take notes and photographs, then we’ll swap sides and see if we’ve missed anything.’
They worked in silence. The dust covers hid ordinary things. Broken objects. Nothing of real interest. He glanced over at her. She was clicking a photograph of a painting propped against the wall, arching her back like a glorious cat, blowing an errant curl from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He grinned as she looked over at him, her blue eyes cool and calm.
‘You said your father hated you doing this. What about your mother?’
