Chapter 34

Lucas knelt to get a better look at the broken shards of cobalt-blue and milky-white porcelain.

The late-afternoon sunlight glinted off the reflective pieces, highlighting their perfect smoothness and beauty. Several large

pieces remained intact, but many of the slivers had been reduced to almost a powder. The polished wood floor beneath the largest

piece appeared dented, suggesting that the vase had hit the surface with some force.

How on earth would the vase have fallen?

He turned his attention to the shelf on which the piece had been sitting. It was deep. Solid. There was no conceivable way

the Cavesee Vase could have just fallen off. Someone had to have tampered with it.

But who? And why?

Holding one of the pieces, he moved closer to the window to take advantage of the light. Over the years he'd thought he'd seen most everything when it came to situations like this. People purposely destroying valuable pieces to prevent someone from possessing them, people hiding items, even stealing or selling them. But this defied logic.

Lucas reviewed the facts once again in his mind. All the house party guests were at the ball, and all the guests' servants

were accounted for in their chambers. And if a house servant was involved, why now when they had full access to the piece

at any other time?

In that moment, as in so many since Olivia's departure, Lucas wished she were with him. He hadn't witnessed Wainbridge rage

at her, but he was told of it, and he'd never be comfortable with how she'd been treated.

Currently, Wainbridge was in his study. Lucas loathed the prospect, but he needed to inform Wainbridge about the counterfeit

pieces. Given what had just happened, he could not delay. In the time since Olivia's departure, he had completed his report.

He was not entirely done with the assessment but had what he needed for the time being. With the large piece of porcelain

in his hand, he made his way from the gallery, down the great staircase, and across the corridor to the study.

Lucas forced lightness to his voice as he entered the room. "I have good news."

Wainbridge scoffed and dropped to the chair behind his desk. "I could use a bit of good news right about now."

"In light of recent events, you and I should discuss the collection's current state. I've composed an initial assessment." Lucas handed him the written report. "I'd like to purchase several of the pieces outright, and the second sheet there is a list of items I believe I can broker sales for you, along with the estimated value I'd expect them to sell for. You are welcome to entertain second opinions on the items I am offering to buy. These offers are good for a year."

Wainbridge snatched the ledger from Lucas, and his brow furrowed as he read. "This list isn't very long."

"Just as I had good news, I've some bad news as well."

Wainbridge's dark eyes flashed, and his lips flattened in a line as he glanced up from the ledger.

"I need to show you something. Much of Mr.Milton's collection that he was most known for was his blue-and-white chinoiserie.

But after examining them closely, it pains me to say that many of the pieces are counterfeit."

Wainbridge scoffed. "What?"

"They appear to be the original pieces that are described in the logs, but they are not Chinese porcelain."

Disbelief reddened Wainbridge's face. "Then what are they?"

"Bone China. It's a ceramic made of bone ash, China clay, and Cornish stone. It has the appearance of Chinese porcelain, but

it was made here in England, fairly recently." Lucas handed Wainbridge the piece of porcelain in his hand. "This is a piece

of the Cavesee Vase, and it is very much authentic. Feel the weight of it?"

He gave the man a few seconds and then retrieved the counterfeit piece from the sideboard. "Now look at this one. Feel the

weight difference? Notice how the coloring and translucency are slightly different?"

Lucas waited for Wainbridge to draw his own conclusion.

After several seconds, Wainbridge lowered the piece back to the table and shook his head. "How is this even possible?"

"I honestly don't know. Normally the bone China would have markings that would indicate where it was made, but none of these do, which makes it difficult to track down their origins."

"Are you telling me that my uncle bought worthless pieces of art?"

"No. I don't believe for a moment that your uncle bought counterfeits. According to these records, many of these were purchased

many years ago, before when I suspect these replications were made. Furthermore, these deals were orchestrated by Mr.Brannon.

His reputation is solid. He would not have brokered a counterfeit deal. I'd stake my own reputation on it.

"It's much more plausible that someone commissioned these reproductions to make it appear that the collection was indeed intact.

Or someone exchanged these for the original counterparts. Truthfully, it is not my place to speculate. All I can do is comment

on what I see from a professional standpoint."

Wainbridge blew out his breath in a noisy huff and ran his hands over the dark stubble gathering on his jaw. "Will this nightmare

end?"

"I know my assessment is not what you hoped it would be, and I wish there were a way I could make it different, but take heart.

There is a great deal of money to be made on what is authentic—the statues. The paintings. The ivory. I've outlined it in

the ledger."

Wainbridge tossed the ledger on the table. "I wonder if my aunt knows."

"About the counterfeits?" Lucas shrugged. "That I could not tell you."

"So here we are." Wainbridge threw out his arms. "Are we even better off than when we began?"

Lucas kept his voice steady. "Francis Milton's collection is extensive, and I've merely scratched the surface. More assessments

are required, but in light of everything that has occurred, I think it best that I depart for London in the morning. If I

may make a suggestion, you should investigate the counterfeit situation further. A great deal of money is unaccounted for.

There are individuals you can hire to investigate this matter, and if it would be helpful, I can provide you with some names."

Wainbridge rubbed his palm across his forehead. "I guess it's a start. I need money, so for the time being, this will have

to do. I'll review your ledger and call on you when I am in London next."

Lucas bowed slightly as the conversation ended and turned on his heel to leave. This was certainly not the outcome he had

hoped for—or expected. And he had no way of knowing if Wainbridge would accept the offers Lucas had outlined in the ledger,

but in the end, did it really matter? His experience at Cloverton had opened his eyes to a completely new way of thinking

of the future. No, the financial gains he was hoping to realize from this house party would not come to fruition, but he felt

as if the true opportunity was only just beginning.

***

"Why did you not say anything?" Tate prodded, incredulous, as he and Lucas stood in the dining room after dinner, taking their

port. "Counterfeit chinoiserie. Who would have thought?"

"You know why I couldn't say anything." Lucas folded his arms over his chest. "I had to find out exactly what I was dealing with. And you may be a friend, but you can't be trusted with confidential matters."

Tate tugged at his cravat, causing it to hang askew. "Bah, I can be trusted."

"You cannot, and you know it," Lucas snipped. "Are you sure you don't want to return to London when I go?"

"I'm certain. I'll stay for the rest of the party. After all, MissHaven's interest in Wainbridge has suddenly declined, and

while I do lament our host's misfortune, there's no reason why I should not take advantage of the opportunity in front of

me."

"I'd expect no less."

"But what I really count as an offense is that you kept the truth about MissBrannon from me for all that time. You sly devil."

Tate poked Lucas in the shoulder with his forefinger. "You had the answer to the great mystery and didn't say a word."

"I'd argue that the identity of the person who broke the Cavesee Vase is the bigger mystery of this excursion, but do go on."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Tate indulged in a long sip. "Any new theories as to who is responsible?"

"No, and I don't intend to propose any." Lucas took Tate's empty glass from him and set it on the table before he could drop

it and break it. "If Wainbridge is smart, he'll hire someone to look into it, for something is amiss with this entire situation."

Tate's eyes widened, as if an idea suddenly dawned. "You should stay and find the culprit."

Lucas scoffed. "No. The law on such things is not my forte. I'm an antiques purveyor, not a thief taker."

Tate shrugged. "Maybe I should investigate it."

Lucas laughed—probably the first real laugh he had enjoyed since the discovery of the shattered vase. "That I'd like to see."

When the men joined the women in the drawing room, a shade had been set up, just as it had been a few nights previous, and

the ladies were drawing silhouettes. There was no laughter, no chatter—the sedate tone was a sharp contrast to the much livelier

events of the past several evenings. In fact, the women barely looked up as the men entered. The only one who took notice

was Romano, who abandoned his position by MissHaven and approached Lucas.

"What an interesting event this turned out to be, no?" Romano said lowly as he stood next to Lucas. "And such a shame our

pretty little friend is no longer with us."

There was no need to ask to whom the painter was referring. The party did seem sad without their pretty little friend , but Lucas doubted Mr.Romano felt her absence as keenly as Lucas did.

"I could not help but notice the two of you were quite friendly, and I'm told you both reside in London. I hope you will do

me a favor?" Romano pulled an item from his pocket. "I finished her portrait last night as best I could from memory, and I

wondered if you would be good enough to see it sent to her once you return. I will be traveling north after this party and

am not certain when I will be back in London. It would be a shame to let the art go to waste."

Lucas took the small parcel and unfolded the handkerchief around it. There, in a little metal frame, was a small painting of Olivia's face and shoulders, no bigger than the palm of his hand. Romano had re-created Olivia's full florid lips. Her entrancing topaz eyes. The soft dimple in her cheek. Her calm, even demeanor.

"You've captured her likeness incredibly," Lucas responded. "I will certainly see that this gets to her."

Mr.Romano bowed. "I thank you."

Lucas folded the miniature portrait in the handkerchief and tucked it in his coat.

Once Romano returned to the ladies, Lucas assessed the party with a fresh eye. The desire to be back home among what was familiar

surged through him. With his work done and Olivia no longer here, the party's allure had diminished. And yet there was one

task he needed to do before he departed.

MissStanley and her chaperone were standing near the shade, neither speaking nor joining in the activity. She did not look

toward him as he approached her, but once he was there, she said, "I heard you're to depart in the morning."

"Yes. Given all that has transpired, it is best that I go."

"What did Mr.Romano give you?"

"He asked that I take MissBrannon's portrait with me to London to see that she gets it."

"May I see it?"

He took the portrait out and handed it to her.

"She is lovely." The sadness in her tone sobered him. She flicked her large brown eyes to him. "You hold her in high regard, don't

you?"

Had it been that obvious? Lucas accepted the piece back, wrapped it, and returned it to his coat. "I do."

MissStanley folded her arms before her, looked toward the ceiling as one abating tears, and then assumed a smile. "I shall

miss you."

It was important to him that he left Cloverton with good rapport with his old friend. "I hope you know how I've enjoyed our

friendship over the years. I wish you nothing but the best moving forward."

She sniffed. Redness rimmed her eyes. "Who knows where I'll be this time next year?"

"Who knows where any of us will be in a year's time? But you're intelligent, resourceful, and possess one of the finest wits

of anyone I know. It will all be fine in the end."

"Will it?" she asked, turning her warm eyes up to him.

"It will."

As he bowed and left her with her chaperone, fresh eagerness to return to London surged through him. It was true—he had no

idea where he would be in a year's time, but if Olivia were a part of his life, it would be well worth the wait.