Page 77 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“But why is it called the Eye of India?” Daphne asked.

“Oh, it has a painting beneath the sapphire, of a man’s eye,” Mr. Cushing said.

Lady Tamsyn leaned across the table and Daphne could just barely glimpse the eye. “Great Uncle Timothy wrote that it was a gift from a gentleman to his lady love, as a token of his undying affection.”

“But we don’t know who he was,” Lady Morgan added.

“Or the lady, for that matter,” Lady Tamsyn agreed. “It is a lovely romantic story, but one that leaves as many questions as answers.”

“Such as how Great Uncle Timothy came by it in the first place,” Lady Morgan agreed.

Mr. Cushing cleared his throat. “I expect he bought it,” he said. “My uncle buys a great many gems, and not always at public auctions. There are many jewelers who know of his collection.”

“There you are, Tamsyn,” Gryffyn said. “Lord Timothy has ensured your future, for you could always sell the brooch if need be.”

Lady Tamsyn laughed prettily, for her future was clearly in no doubt given her betrothed’s wealth.

Mr. Cushing cleared his throat. “I would venture to suggest that the man in question might be suspected to have been a Hambly for Uncle Timothy to believe the Eye of India belonged in your possession.”

“How perfectly scandalous!” Lady Tamsyn said. “Who do you think it might have been?”

They laughed lightly and began to speculate as the soup was brought in.

After the soup had been served, Mr. Cushing leaned toward her. “I’m not surprised that the duke had a good look at the Eye of India.”

“Indeed? Is he reputed to have a taste for gems, like your uncle?”

“More than a taste, to be sure. There is said to be an avarice for them in his family.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. His sister Anthea was accused of being a thief and banished from polite society as a result.”

“Oh! How horrible.”

“It was horrible.” Mr. Cushing shook his head. “In her debut season, as well.”

“What a ghastly thing. Was she guilty?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said she was accused, not discovered to be guilty. It’s not quite the same thing.”

He smiled at her indulgently, as if she were a child. “You take the side of a stranger?”

“If it was her debut, I can’t imagine she would be scheming to steal gems. She would be too busy thinking about dance cards and eligible beaus and dresses.”

Mr. Cushing seemed to find this a foolish view. “Nonetheless, she was accused and fled London for Scotland. Surely no one innocent would have done as much? That she would hurry home and never leave again indicates her guilt.”

Daphne could well imagine that the duke’s sister might have left the city out of mortification, even at being so accused, not necessarily of guilt. “And was the gem found?”

“No, but then they didn’t look at Airdfinnan.” Mr. Cushing nodded down the table. “The duke would not let anyone through the gates to search. Perhaps he knows where it is.”

“I think it admirable that he defended his sister against rumor and innuendo,” Daphne said primly. She rather imagined that the duke might fight dragons for his sister and admired him for that.

“It was not admirable if she was guilty. To harbor a thief is reprehensible.” Mr. Cushing shook his head. “And one does wonder how he comes by such wealth. It is said that he doesn’t owe so much as a shilling to any man.”

Daphne straightened, finding much to admire in fiscal responsibility and knowing that it did not necessarily mean the duke funded his purchases with theft. She chose not to share her grandmother’s comment about the family declining to gamble.

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