“Miss Law, then,” Wulfric said after sipping his brandy, “was a poor relation at Harewood. Her brother is up to his neck in debt. And their grandmother owns—or owned— expensive jewels.”

“They disappeared during a ball,” Rannulf said. “So did Branwell Law. And one piece of jewelry as well as an empty velvet bag that usually held the most expensive jewels were found in Miss Law’s room.”

“Incriminating indeed,” Wulfric said softly, raising his eyebrows.

“Too incriminating,” Rannulf said. “Even the rawest of amateurs could have done better.”

“Oh, I say,” Alleyne said cheerfully, “someone set them up for a fall. Some dastardly villain. Do you have any idea who, Ralf?”

The duke turned toward him, his glass halfway to his eye. “We will not turn this into a farcical melodrama if you please, Alleyne,” he said.

“But he is almost right,” Rannulf told him. “Horace Effingham, Sir George’s son, tried to force himself on Miss Law during a garden party at Grandmaison a week or so ago. He would have succeeded too if I had not happened along just in time and given him a bit of a thrashing. On the night of the ball he attempted revenge by almost trapping me into compromising his sister and being forced to offer for her—Miss Law saved me from that fate. It was during the same ball that young Law abruptly left Harewood and Mrs. Law’s jewels disappeared.”

“Splendid stuff,” Alleyne said. “And while all that excitement was going on in Leicestershire, I have been stuck here shepherding Morgan about to see all the famous sights.”

Wulfric had released his hold on his quizzing glass. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger, his eyes closed.

“And so Miss Law ran away and you followed after,” he said. “When was that, Rannulf?”

“Yesterday,” his brother said.

“Ah.” Wulfric removed his hand and opened his eyes. “And dare one ask where you stayed last night?”

“At a posting inn.” Rannulf’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Wulf, if this is an interrogation into my—”

His brother held up his hand and Rannulf fell silent. One tended to do that with Wulf, he thought, irritated with himself. A single gesture—even the simple raising of an eyebrow would do it—and Bewcastle commanded his world.

“You have not considered,” Wulfric asked, “the possibility of a clever trap, Rannulf? That perhaps the lady is poor, greedy, and ambitious?”

“If you have any other observations of that nature,” Rannulf said, sitting forward in his chair, his hands on the arms, “you had better keep them to yourself, Wulf, if you do not want to be looking for your teeth a moment after.”

“Oh, bravo!” Alleyne exclaimed admiringly.

Wulfric merely curled his fingers lightly about the handle of his quizzing glass and raised his eyebrows.

“I take it,” he said, “that you are enamored of the lady? The daughter of an impoverished, soon to be ruined, country clergyman? Red hair and certain, ah, generous endowments have turned your head?

Infatuation does tend to have a blinding effect on the rational mind, Rannulf. Can you be quite sure you have not been so blinded?”

“Horace Effingham volunteered to pursue the Laws to London,” Rannulf said. “My guess is that apprehending them will not be good enough for him. He will want to find evidence that will prove beyond all doubt that they are the thieves.”

“If he intends to plant it, we will thwart him,” Alleyne said. “I know him by sight, Ralf—a toothy, oily individual, right? I am delighted to discover that he is a villainous cur. I say, life has brightened considerably since this morning.”

Wulfric was pinching the bridge of his nose again.

“What I need to do,” Rannulf said, “is find Branwell Law. I doubt he is in his rooms at this time of day.

He is more likely out somewhere trying to make his fortune on the turn of a card. But I’ll go around there anyway to see.”

“That is what servants are for,” Wulfric said. “It is almost dinnertime, Rannulf. Miss Law will doubtless feel even more uncomfortable than she did earlier if you are absent from the table. I will have a servant sent around, and if he is at home, you may go there in person later.”

“She is determined to go there herself,” Rannulf said.

“Then she must be dissuaded from doing so,” Wulfric said. “How is our grandmother?”

Rannulf sat back in his chair. “Dying,” he said.

Both his brothers gave him their full attention.

“She will not talk about it,” he said. “She is as elegant, as independent, as active as ever. But she is clearly very ill indeed. Dying, in fact.”

“You did not speak with her physician?” Wulfric asked.

Rannulf shook his head. “It would have been an invasion of her privacy.”

“Poor Grandmama,” Alleyne said. “She has always seemed immortal.”

“This business with Miss Law, then,” Wulfric said, “must be cleared up without delay. Our grandmother will need you back there at Grandmaison, Rannulf. And I will want to see her once more. The bride she has chosen for you is perhaps the Miss Effingham you referred to? The family is of respectable, though not brilliant, lineage.”

“She has changed her mind,” Rannulf said. “Grandmama, I mean. And she knew I was coming after Judith.”

“Judith?” his brother said softly, his eyebrows rising again. “Our grandmother approves of her?

Normally I have great respect for her judgment.”

But not for his brother’s? Rannulf thought ruefully. He got to his feet.

“I’ll send a servant,” he said.

Judith was up early the following morning, though she had slept surprisingly well all night. The guest room assigned to her was one of opulent splendor. It even had a spacious dressing room attached to it. The large four-poster bed was soft and comfortable and smelled faintly of lavender. Even so, she had not expected to sleep.

Being at Bedwyn House was surely the most embarrassing experience of her life. Lord Rannulf’s brothers and sisters had all been perfectly well mannered during dinner and the hour in the drawing room that had followed it. But she had felt very far out of her depth. The thought of leaving her room this morning was daunting indeed.

Branwell had not been found. A servant had been sent around to his rooms last night, but he had not been there. When she had said that she would go in person this morning, the Duke of Bewcastle had raised his quizzing glass to his eye, Lord Rannulf had told her it would not be at all the thing, and Lord Alleyne had smiled at her and advised her to leave all to Rannulf. It was not what she had come here to do. But if the thought of leaving her room was daunting, the thought of leaving Bedwyn House was doubly so.

Fifteen minutes after getting out of bed, Judith was on her way downstairs to the breakfast room, wearing a dress that one of the servants must have ironed during the night. She braced herself to meet the whole family again, but the room was empty, she discovered with great relief, except for the butler, who bowed to her from beside the sideboard and then suggested what she might like to eat from a dizzying array of warming dishes. He poured her a cup of coffee after she had sat down.

It was a relief to be alone, but she was going to have to go in search of Lord Rannulf after breakfast.

She needed him to direct her to Branwell’s lodgings. She hoped he would accompany her there too.

She was not to remain alone for long. Before she had taken more than a few bites, the door opened to admit Lady Freyja and Lady Morgan, both dressed in elegant riding habits. Judith was terrified of both of them—and thoroughly despised herself for being awed by aristocratic arrogance.

“Good morning,” she said.

They returned her greeting and busied themselves at the sideboard.

“You have been out riding?” Judith asked politely when they seated themselves.

“In Hyde Park,” Lady Freyja said. “It is insipid exercise after having the whole of the park at Lindsey Hall to gallop about until a few days ago as well as the countryside beyond it.”

“You were the one who insisted that I wanted to come to town, Free,” Lady Morgan said, “even though I protested.”

“Because I wanted you to see some of the sights,” Lady Freyja said, “and rescue you from the schoolroom and Miss Cowper’s clutches for a week or two.”

“Nonsense!” her sister said. “We both know that was not the reason. Miss Law, I do wish I had your color hair. You must be the envy of all your acquaintance.”

“Thank you,” Judith said, surprised. She had been feeling embarrassed that she had no cap to wear.

“Did Lord Rannulf ride with you? I am waiting for him to escort me to my brother’s lodgings this morning. I hope to be able to begin my journey home this afternoon.” Though how she was going to get there she did not know. She would have to beg the stagecoach fare from Rannulf, she supposed.

“Ah, yes,” Lady Freyja said. “I was to tell you when I returned that you are not to worry your head about a thing, that Ralf will take care of it all for you.”

Judith jumped to her feet, scraping back her chair with her knees. “But Branwell is my brother,” she said.

“Finding him is my concern, not Lord Rannulf’s. I will not stay here like a good little girl, not worrying my empty little woman’s head, letting a man take care of my business for me. I am going to find Bran whether there is someone here to direct me to his lodgings or not. And I do not care that it is not the thing for a lady to call upon a gentleman alone in London. How absurd when the gentleman is her own brother.

Excuse me, please.”

She was not given to displays of temper, but the sense of helplessness that had dogged her ever since she arrived at Harewood almost three weeks ago was finally too, too much.

“Oh, splendid!” Lady Freyja exclaimed, looking at her with rather surprised approval. “I have done you an injustice, Miss Law—at least, I sincerely hope I have. I took you for an abject clinging vine. But you are a woman after my own heart, I see. Men can be the most ridiculous creatures, especially gentlemen with their archaic notions of gallantry to ladies. I’ll come with you.”

“So will I,” Lady Morgan said eagerly.

Her sister frowned at her. “You had better not, Morgan,” she said. “Wulf would have my head. It was bad enough that I brought you to London without consulting him first. His voice was so quiet when I went to the library on his summons that it was almost a whisper. I hate it when he does that, especially when I cannot restrain myself from yelling back at him. It puts one at such a disadvantage—as he well knows.

No, you really must stay at home.”

“There is no need for either of you to accompany me,” Judith said hastily. “I do not need a chaperon.”

“Oh, but I could not possibly deprive myself of the fun of calling at a gentleman’s lodging,” Lady Freyja assured her, setting her napkin beside her half-empty plate and getting to her feet. “Especially when there are stolen jewels and avengers in hot pursuit to add to the excitement.”

“Wulf will have your head anyway, Free,” Lady Morgan predicted.

Judith and Lady Freyja set out from Bedwyn House a short while later. They walked until they were well away from the square, and then Lady Freyja hailed a hackney cab and gave the driver Branwell’s address.

Judith found herself intrigued by her companion. Lady Freyja Bedwyn was dressed now in a smart green walking dress, her fair hair piled up beneath a fetching hat that Judith guessed must be in the very newest fashion. She was a small woman, and should have been ugly with her incongruously dark eyebrows, dark complexion, and prominent nose. But there was something that rescued her face from ugliness—an unconscious arrogance, a certain strength of character. She might almost be called handsome.

Judith’s spirits rose, knowing that finally she was going to see Bran, that she would be able to hear his story from his own lips. She fervently hoped he would be able to deny all knowledge of the theft of Grandmama’s jewels, but even if he could not then perhaps she would be in time to salvage something from the situation. Perhaps she could persuade him to restore the jewels and beg Grandmama’s pardon, inadequate as the gesture would be. Time was of the essence, though, she knew. She was very thankful that Rannulf had come after her and brought her to London so quickly.

Why had Horace decided to wait a whole day before pursuing her? she wondered. If he had hoped to catch Bran red-handed before he could dispose of the jewels, would he not have wanted to set out that very day? Had he waited perhaps because he knew there was no hurry? Because he knew there were no jewels for Bran to get rid of?