Page 20 of When the Rogue Returns
“For a vulture circling overhe—” She caught Rupert staring and forced a smile. “I’m sorry. I merely worry that he is here to take advantage of you and your mother, now that your father has passed on.”
Rupert’s eyes got very round. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Sometimes poor relations swoop in to see what they can get, once the family is vulnerable.”
A frown creased Rupert’s pale brow. “I don’t think he’s poor. He drives a very costly phaeton. And while I don’t know fashion, I can tell that his clothes are quite fine.”
How could she possibly explain the tactics of a sharper to someone as oblivious of the world as Rupert? Gerhart had dressed finely in Paris, too. And all the while, he’d been plotting another theft. If she hadn’t left when she had—
Good Lord, wasthatwhy Victor had thought she deserted him? Had he gone to Paris after she’d left? It would have been just like Jacoba and Gerhart to tell him some mean thing about how she didn’t want him anymore.
She raised her chin. Well, she’d waited for him in Paris as long as she could. With the child growing in her belly, she’d had to act, and she would just point that out to him.Ifindeed he had gone there looking for her. She didn’t trust a word he said. Not after his part in the theft.
“Are you even sure that he’s really your cousin?” she ventured.
“Mother says he is, so he must be.” Rupert cocked his head. “Besides, I know I’ve seen his name somewhere. Probably in the family tree. OrDebrett’s.I never forget names, and Victor is an unusual one for an Englishman.”
“Pay me no mind,” she said. “I’m probably wrong about him.” She found the book he wanted and handed it to him.
“I hope you are. Mother wouldn’t like being taken advantage of.”
“I imagine not.” Though Isa suspected Lady Lochlawcould hold her own against fortune hunters, sharpers, and schemers of any kind.
Rupert stared down at the book for a long moment. “I want her to like you,” he said suddenly.
Now, what had brought that on? “It doesn’t matter,” Isa said. “We can be friends whether or not she likesme.”
“Friends,” he mumbled, two spots of color appearing high on his cheeks. “Of course.”
When he continued to stare at the book, she asked, “Thatisthe one you wanted, isn’t it?”
He looked up, his eyes oddly filmy. “Yes. Are you sure you can spare it?”
She laughed. “I can’t make heads or tails of it, to be honest. My English is good enough for novels, but understanding a scientific book is beyond me.”
“Then why did you buy it?”
“Because I thought I could glean some knowledge on using chemicals to alter the colors of imitation gems. But he never speaks of that. The book has no practical applications. It’s strictly theory.”
He eyed her askance. “Well, itistitledA New System of Chemical Philosophy. Philosophy tends to be theoretical.”
She smiled. He could be so very literal. “I know. It was a foolish purchase.” She headed for the hallway.
“You are never foolish,” he murmured as he followed her.
Oh, she’d been foolish many a time. And the worst was when she’d given her heart to the man who’d trampled on it.
But no more. Tonight she would force Victor to admit his purpose in coming here, one way or another.
5
BY THE TIMEVictor arrived at the Theatre Royal, he was fit to chew nails. He’d started his investigation of “Mrs. Franke” at her shop on Princes Street, hoping to speak to her seventy-year-old partner. But the place was apparently closed on Saturdays, which was interesting. Shops closed on Sunday, not on both SaturdayandSunday. Not unless they made very good money.
Judging from what those who ran the neighboring shops had to say, that was indeed the case. And apparently the other shopkeepers found Mrs. Franke a fascinating subject for gossip. Some praised her talent as a jeweler. Others commented favorably on her willingness to contribute to charitable causes. A few speculated about her past—whether she was Angus Gordon’s illegitimate granddaughter, why she’d settled in Edinburgh, what battles her soldier husband had fought in.
None of them knew where she lived. Or if she attended church. Or anything about her family, beyond the fact that she was a soldier’s widow. To hear the denizens of Princes Street tell it, Sofie Franke’s life began when she arrived at her shop in the morning and ended when she left at night.
They did agree on one thing—the Baron Lochlaw was sure to marry her within the year. He visited the shop with great regularity, he spoke of her in glowing terms, and he was often seen trailing after her like a puppy. She would be a fool not to accept any offer he made.
