Page 90 of A Rogue to Watch Over Me
Good heavens.
A folded piece of parchment lay behind the landscape. Carefully, Amelia unfolded the square.
An artist had rendered an intriguing sketch of a very beautiful woman. Amelia lifted it to the light. Each stroke of its creator’s pencil was sure and brilliant. An intricately drawn jewel at the beauty’s throat actually appeared to twinkle.
She spotted a signature in the lower left corner.
Antonio Caravelli.
And beneath the name, a date.1575.
Amelia’s pulse raced. Her brother had spoken of the Renaissance artist with great enthusiasm. He’d been convinced that Caravelli’s genius would finally be recognized. Not long before he died, Paul had collaborated with an anonymous collector to assemble a gallery show of the artist’s finest works.
Including this one.
Juliet’s Diamond.
Amelia’s mind raced.The treasure.Wasthisthe jewel the intruder had hunted? The diamond he’d would have killed to claim?
Mrs. Johnstone gasped. “Are my eyes deceiving me, or is this scrap of paper more than three centuries old?”
The floor seemed to shift beneath her feet. Amelia drew in rapid breaths to steady herself. “I do believe that is the case.”
Mrs. Langford leaned closer, taking a better look. “That pretty little drawing must be worth a fortune.”
Mrs. Johnstone’s brow furrowed. “Ye may be right.”
A sudden pounding on the door jolted all three women in unison. Irritation replaced Amelia’s sense of alarm as she peeked through a side window. “Oh, dear, nothim.”
“Who is it, dear?” Mrs. Langford asked in a low voice.
“Mr. Driscoll,” Amelia said as she tucked their discovery back into the bag. “The owner of this building.”
“I know you are in there, Mrs. Stewart,” he called through the door. “I must speak with you. It is a matter of great importance.”
“I will be right there,” Amelia replied, stashing the pouch out of sight in the cabinet drawer.
“The bloke has impeccable timing.” Mrs. Johnstone calmly retrieved the reticule she’d placed on a high shelf and took hold of her double-shot pistol by its pearl-handled grips. “It’s quite lovely, isn’t it?” Quietly confident, she concealed the weapon within the folds of her skirt.
As Amelia slid the floorboard and rug back into place, Mr. Driscoll pounded on the wood with renewed vigor.
“I demand you open this door. I am here to inspect my property,” he bellowed.
Satisfied their find was hidden from the dolt’s view, Amelia motioned to Mrs. Langford to allow him entry.
“There, there, no need to be so impatient.” Mrs. Langford met the man’s scowl with a plastered-on smile.
His bushy brows knit into one dark slash. “I have a right to enter my own building. Who in thunder are you?”
Amelia marched up to him. “I’ll ask you not to speak to my guests in such an impolite manner. What brings you here today?”
“I believe you already know the answer to your question.”
“Do enlighten me, Mr. Driscoll.”
His eyes hardened. “I understand you were not willing to consider Mr. Mansfield’s generous offer. You will find he is not inclined to be as patient as I am.”
Amelia held her ground. “Your patience is not my concern.”
