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“Where else would it be? You think he’s keeping it on his person, where anyone could look at it?”
“If I know my cousin, yes?—”
Tricia clamped her hand over her mouth to suppress a gasp.
It was Jonathan Jameson. She did know the voice. She couldn’t quite place the other though.
What was going on? And why were they in Thomas’s study?
“It’s probably in his desk.”
Tricia’s heart stopped. She would be discovered if they crossed to the other side of Thomas’s desk.
“Don’t be a fool. He would hide it somewhere less obvious. He’s suspicious.”
“Right.” The cousin paused. “I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”
“You’re in over your head now. It’s happening. And we’ll all be the richer for it.”
Tricia gulped, hoping it wasn’t audible.
There was a scrape of furniture moving near the door and then the sound of a cushion falling to the floor.
“Here it is.”
“Good. You know what to do.”
And then silence.
They’d stopped talking.
Tricia heard the rustle of papers, and then…
Was it a strike of a match?
She couldn’t leave, couldn’t risk being seen.
What were these people going to do to Thomas?
Then the click of the door, and the smell…
The smell of fire.
31
After watching his cousin and Victor dance the evening away with Tricia, Thomas had had quite enough.
He was ready to take her into his arms and reserve the rest of her dances, however, he could not find her.
Polk and Jonathan seemed to have vanished as well, and that was not a good thing.
Thomas counted to ten, adjusted his gloves and his cravat, and left the ballroom.
Servants were milling about, so he grabbed a young maid and asked her to check the ladies’ retiring room to see if Tricia was there.
“Of course, my lord.” She walked into the ladies’ retiring area and returned momentarily. “No, my lord. Lady Patricia is not in there. Only Lady Francesca Lawrence and her mother.”
“Thank you.”
