Page 27 of The Miracle of Love
“And our country estate. My mother and siblings are still living amid the damage. Some kindly neighbors have helped restore a few of the rooms. People are much more charitable in the countryside than in London.”
“I’ll see what can be done to restore the rest of it. Sending over a few servants is not enough. Your mother and siblings should not be forced to live under those conditions,” he said before returning the conversation to her brother. “Richard did quite a bit of traveling for the Montford art business, did he not?”
“Yes, and he alone did most of it this past year. My father used to travel quite a bit, but no longer. He has slowed down considerably and does not leave London unless it is to spend time at our country estate. And before you ask, he hasn’t left London in almost a year.”
“Tell me about Richard’s travels. Would he have stopped anywhere of significance within the last six months?”
“Right after the crown was stolen? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
He kept hold of her hand as they carefully made their way from room to room. “Think, Grace. In his travels, did he pass near properties familiar to you? For example, what of the estates owned by his mother’s side of the family? He came into an inheritance recently from his maternal uncle, did he not?”
She nodded. “Yes, including a title. Richard is now the rightful baron and owner of several entailed properties. Oh, I see what you mean.”
She paused at the foot of the staircase and glanced up. Not even the steps were safe since those had all been pulled apart as possible hiding places. “But those properties are up north, not far from the Scottish border. Richard has not been anywhere near them since the crown was stolen. I would have known had he taken any trips there.”
“Then he has remained in the south of England all the while?”
“Yes, several trips to Exeter. Well, also trips to the Continent, and those must have been to plan and execute the theft of the crown along with legitimate business dealings as a cover for his intended crime.” She followed him as he led her into the kitchen. “Why are we here?”
“It is the safest way to take you upstairs. Wooton tells me the servants’ stairwell is not too badly damaged. Are you up for it, Grace?”
“Yes, although I doubt it will serve a purpose other than appeasing my curiosity.” She noticed soot stains along the kitchen floor as they passed through the dank chamber to reach the back staircase. “Seems your agents searched each chimney as well.”
He nodded. “We try to be thorough.”
“Indeed, you are. Have you missed anything?”
“Obviously, we have. The crown has not been found.”
“Oh, that’s true.”
He began to muse aloud as they climbed the stairs and strolled toward the bedchambers. “We have pretty much traced every moment of your brother’s whereabouts since the theft, but we are clearly overlooking something. It is possible he never brought the stolen article to London but hid it somewhere between here and Dover. Tucked it away somewhere he thinks no one will ever look. An old, unused well. A mausoleum. A smuggler’s tunnel. An ancient priest hiding hole.”
“Have you not searched for such places on all our properties?”
“Yes, and found nothing. Which means there has to be someplace else of significance between here and Dover. Can you think of anywhere that might be? Something out of his childhood, or–”
She gasped.
They had just walked into her brother’s bedchamber, and she saw the portrait of the dog he had owned as a child. It was still in its frame, undamaged, but left on the dusty floor. She picked it up and carried it over to the bed, ignoring the fact that the mattress had been ripped apart.
“Grace?”
“Could it be a dog’s grave?”
“What?” He helped her to dust off the painting.
“He had a favorite dog when he was younger. This is her portrait.”
Deklan’s eyes seemed to bore into her soul. “Wooton searched the animal graves on your country estate. He found nothing.”
“Because this grave is not on any of our properties.” Her heart began to race. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Perhaps because everyone seemed convinced Richard had brought the crown to London or hid it somewhere on the family estate. “Vixen was the old girl’s name. She was a sweet retriever with a beautiful golden coat. The two of them were inseparable.”
“And?”
“We were on holiday, staying at a lovely manor house overlooking Pevensey Bay near Bexhill. My father had let the house for a month in the summer, wanting us all to enjoy the sea air. Richard and Vixen were playing by the shore one day, Richard tossing a stick and Vixen jumping into the water to retrieve it. The game was harmless, and the day had turned beautiful and calm after a morning rain, or so we thought. Vixen swam out too far and got caught in a riptide. She was not spry enough to escape its dangerous undertow. She drowned. Richard was devastated. He almost drowned himself trying to save her.”
Deklan shook his head. “I’m truly sorry for that.”
