Page 106 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
The next morning,Corsini came to Kane in the breakfast room with a plain linen bag in his hands. “Conte, this bag we found in the back of your wardrobe.”
“What do you mean?” Kane had seen no such bag there. Ever.
“When we began the packing for you yesterday, the old wardrobe was jostled in the doing. One of the rungs fell to the bottom. I worked with Clement to repair it, but behind it, we found this!”
Kane took it from his man. Heavy. Malleable. With tiny items of varying sizes inside, all of them rustled. “Have you looked at the contents?”
“Si, conte, one is more curious in such cases than prudence allows.” He grinned like a village thief.
Kane placed the bag on the dresser, then drew the strings. Inside, what glittered was every color of the rainbow.
He dumped the contents to the top. With a finger across his lips, he smiled. “The Rohan jewels.”
“My conclusion as well,conte.”
“Thank you, Corsini.” Kane strode away but turned back. “One question.”
“Si?”
“Have you been able to repair the wardrobe?”
“Si, conte.”
“As I thought. Put these back where you found them. We leave, but one day a remaining member of the Rohan will come and need money to live.”
“Ah, but,conte,do they deserve such fortune?”
“Do any children deserve to pay for the sins of their fathers?”
Corsini nodded. “No,conte. Never.”
*
Kane had finishedhis instructions to Corsini and took the stairs two at a time. He flung open the door to his and Gus’s master suite, passed their sitting room, and headed for the bedroom.
She sat in her favorite wing chair, drinking her morning cup of chocolate and picking at an apple crumble.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” He beamed at her and went to kiss her cheek. “How are you?”
She regarded him with wry humor. “Big. This baby is sitting on my bladder. And he does not like bacon!”
“Picky little bugger.” Kane took the chair opposite and gathered her hands in his.
She traced his features with her beautiful green eyes. “What has happened?”
“Bonaparte and our ambassador have had another falling-out.”
“When? Where?”
“Last night. The Tuileries.” He stroked his fingertips over her knuckles. “Listen to me. I—”
“You hate to say this, but you want to leave.”
“I do. We must.”
An urgent knocking came to their bedroom door. “Scuzzi, conte?”
Gus pulled her woolen robe around her more securely. “Corsini. Let him in, darling.”
