The Duke Heist (The Wild Wynchesters #1) - Erica Ridley Page 0,13
I distracted them by calling them back to the mews in their own voices. Except Faircliffe’s driver insisted on muscling his carriage to the front, so Graham—”
“Never mind the traffic quarrels,” Tommy said, and turned to Chloe. “Is Puck back home?”
Laughing, Chloe swung her woven basket up and onto the walnut table. “Oh, you must mean this family portrait I liberated from some heiress’s wall.” She pulled the roll of canvas out from the interior compartment with a grin.
Her siblings cheered.
“Puck is home! Our family is complete again!”
“I told you Chloe could do anything,” Tommy whispered to Elizabeth.
“And,” Chloe admitted, “I may have also…inadvertently…slightly abducted the Duke of Faircliffe in the process.”
“What?” Four shocked faces turned her way at once.
“Had him stuffed in a wardrobe by the time I got there,” Graham confirmed with a grin. “Left his beaver on the windowsill, plain as day. I was half-tempted to swing open the door and expose him, just to see the look on his face.”
“’Tis a good thing you refrained,” Chloe scolded him. “As it stands, His Loftiness believes he owes me a favor.”
“For not crying ‘Compromise!’ and forcing him to the altar.”
Tommy gave an exaggerated shudder. “Can you imagine?”
Chloe could imagine far better than she wished. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to rid the image of Faircliffe’s strong shoulders and dimpled smile from her mind. Or the way his dark hair had fluttered in the breeze as if tousled by a lover’s hand.
She wondered what it would have felt like to touch him, to toy with the softness of his hair, to feel the deceptive strength of his taut muscles beneath his gentlemanly exterior.
“Who needs an icehouse when you’ve got me?” came a perfect rendition of the Duke of Faircliffe from somewhere near the fireplace. Elizabeth throwing her voice again.
Everyone burst out laughing.
Everyone but Chloe. A few hours earlier she would have agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly. But after witnessing the duke put her well-being above his own, following her into the Puss & Goose to ensure her safety, and offering to pay for a hack, she could not help but think there was perhaps more to him than met the eye.
Thank heavens she never had to see him again. People with hidden depths made the worst culls to target.
She shook her head. “Who cares about dukes? We’ve a family portrait to hang!”
“Thank you, children,” came a perfect rendition of Bean’s voice from his portrait above the mantel. Elizabeth affected a fatherly expression. “I knew my Wynchesters would never let me down.”
“Never,” Graham agreed.
Chloe blinked a sudden sheen from her eyes and knew several of her siblings were doing the same. Hearing Bean’s voice again was something they all longed for. Its warmth felt like a blanket, like a welcoming hug, like a promise that the future could only get better. He had done everything in his power for them, and they would do the same for him.
The family’s cherished painting was finally home.
Graham and Tommy cleared the table, replacing its various items in myriad secret compartments. As soon as she could, Chloe rolled out the canvas faceup. Elizabeth handed Marjorie small stones from a hidden drawer to weigh down the corners. Jacob kept Tiglet from leaping into the center, claws first.
The entire family was there, Puck and all six mischievous sprites cavorting merrily about a dancing fire with their arms wide and their heads tilted back in joy.
Tommy gave a happy sigh. “Perfect.”
“Chloe, I cannot thank you enough,” Elizabeth said in her own voice. “Our lives have felt so fractured. This puts us back together.”
“I can breathe again,” Tommy said fervently.
Jacob tried to extract Tiglet from his cravat. “All we have to do now is mount Puck on a new frame.”
“Almost all,” Chloe reminded him. “There’s the small matter of an angel vase.”
Tommy perked up. “Can we smash it?”
All six pairs of eyes swung to the mantel, where a cherubic porcelain angel hugged a slender crystal receptacle just large enough to hold a single rose.
“We cannot smash it,” Chloe said firmly. “Even though it was against Bean’s will, old Faircliffe entrusted it to us as collateral.”
“Can we send it via post?” Elizabeth asked hopefully.
“We can leave it in the duke’s stables. I happen to possess an exact copy of the Faircliffe livery.” Tommy’s eyes sparkled. “The next time His Grace enters the mews…boom! Saccharine angel, right where he least expects it.”
Graham shook his finger. “You’re wicked. I like it.”