Page 99 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“If I am interpreting his notes correctly, it would seem he questioned their authenticity.” Mrs. Johnstone’s mouth settled into a terse line. “If I may be blunt, he believed they were frauds.”
Macie swallowed hard against a sudden, bitter lump in her throat. She handed the century-old letter to Mrs. Johnstone. “And he’d found the proof.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Counterfeits, eh?” Loganpoured two fingers of whisky from his personal stock at the Rogue’s Lair into a glass and handed it to Finn.
“Her grandfather’s documents spell out his concerns. It’s all rather technical, over my head. We need to find out if his suspicions were justified.” Finn reached for Macie’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“There’s money to be made in the antiquities market. Every bloke with a shilling to spare wants some old vase or another in his home.” Logan gave Macie a glass of sherry, then settled into the leather wing chair behind his desk. “I noticed Amelia admiring a Roman amphora at an exhibit, so now I’m on the hunt.”
“An amphora?” Finn asked. “What in blazes is that?”
Logan looked as smug as any dandy. “A two-handled vase.”
“Bloody hell, ye’re a refined sophisticate now.” Finn chuckled under his breath. “That’s all Amelia’s doing, no doubt.”
“My bride has attempted to broaden my interests.” Logan looked pleased with himself and his all-too-recent appreciation for culture. Finn resisted the urge to frown at his cousin, though it would’ve been justified.
“What’s next? A blasted fresco on the wall?”
“Not bloody likely.”
“The amphora would be such a thoughtful gift,” Macie spoke up. “Amelia will be delighted.”
“Only if it doesn’t cost a blasted fortune,” Logan replied. “My bride is eminently practical. The vessel must also be small enough to fit on a high shelf to keep it out of the wee beast’s reach.”
Macie smiled. “The wee beast?”
“My wife’s pet.”
“So, how is good old Heathy doing these days?” Finn asked. “Chewed up any boots lately?”
Logan looked weary. “Not in the last month.”
“The hound is nothing but fur and teeth,” Finn said, picturing the high-strung terrier in his mind. “But I’d have to say he’s a fine judge of character. He warmed to me immediately.”
“I try not to hold that against him,” Logan said with a low laugh.
“I’ll have you know Cleo is also an excellent judge of character,” Macie added. “You know she likes you, Finn.”
“I’ve spent an entire night with yer cat breathing down my neck,” Finn said, chuckling at Logan’s puzzled expression.
“Ah, there’s a story there,” Logan said.
“Someday, I’ll tell ye over a pint,” Finn said as Macie flashed a knowing smile.
“Good enough. For now, tell me what I can do for ye tonight.”
Macie took a sip from her glass, as if to fortify herself. “My grandfather found reason to believe certain antiquities he had acquired were not, in fact, genuine.”
Logan leaned back, taking in her words. “Ye have evidence?”
“Not yet. But I’m convinced the proof is hidden somewhere in his library.” She laced her fingers together, as she tended to do when she was worried. “In time, I will find it.”
“We suspect someone else knew about the evidence,” Finn added.
Logan turned to Macie. “The old gent ye encountered?”
