of the realm. Especially not one as petty and single-minded as the duke. His first stop would have been to the magistrate to claim mistreatment.
“I’m sorry,” Chloe said again. “I should have stayed behind to guard our portrait.”
“No,” Bean corrected. “I left him, too. You did the right thing. Family comes first.”
“That painting is practically family.” Her voice came out miserable.
“And we shall retrieve it,” he said firmly.
“I cannot believe a duke stole from us,” Elizabeth said.
“Faircliffe is more wastrel than duke,” Graham reminded her. “He hasn’t taken his seat in the House of Lords in years.”
“Not even to vote on his son’s bills,” Chloe added. The duke had mastered the art of caring only for himself.
“Albus Roth is a famous artist now,” Marjorie added. “The duke can earn twenty times what we paid for it.”
“No, he can’t.” Chloe gestured at the head of the table. “Bean and I will bring it home.”
Graham pointed at her plate. “You might as well stay for breakfast. Bean was right not to let us drive after the duke last night. It wasn’t safe in all that rain.”
Chloe sat back down. “What happened?”
“Faircliffe was in an accident on his way to Mayfair. His curricle was completely destroyed.”
She gasped. “Is he... Did he...”
“He’s alive,” Graham answered. “A fractured bone. His lower leg is in splints. He’s still hobbling about his town house, but until he’s healed, he won’t venture further afield than that.”
“Good.” Chloe’s shoulders slumped back against her chair.
She had no soft feelings for the knavish lord, but she didn’t wish him physical harm. The thought that one of her family members could have been driving recklessly after him... She swallowed hard and did not allow her imagination to finish painting the picture.
Bean was here.
The entire family was here.
Soon, their heirloom would be home, too.
Technically, an item wasn’t an heirloom until one generation inherited it from another. The Wynchesters didn’t care about technicalities. They created their own traditions. The Puck & Family portrait was already part of their legacy. It would absolutely be handed down for generations... just as soon as they repossessed it from the duke.
Elizabeth sent a glance toward the pile of broadsheets next to Graham’s plate. “The morning papers had news of the accident already?”
“Of course not,” Tommy said. “Graham’s spies are everywhere and far more efficient.”
Chloe turned to Jacob. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Foolish,” he admitted. “If I’d kept better hold of my hawk, the duke—”
“It’s not your fault or your hawk’s,” Bean said. “The person responsible for the theft is the Duke of Faircliffe.”
“I know,” Jacob said with a sigh. “But I won’t feel whole until we have it back.”
“Me neither,” murmured the others.
“It’s unsettling to see the empty space on the wall,” Graham agreed, running a hand over his flyaway black curls.
“Just a faint rectangle where the painting should be.” Elizabeth gave a shiver. “Even when I’m not looking at it, I can feel it gone.”
Chloe put down her fork. “Bean?”
He rose from his seat. “Bring the vase and meet me in the carriage.”
Chloe ran upstairs to collect the crystal cherub—how could an ugly vase possibly be equal in value to their painting?—and carefully carried it down the marble stairs and out through the front door, where the family coach awaited.
Rain drizzled from the gloomy clouds. A bit of damp wasn’t unusual for England, but the climate had been unseasonably cold and wet ever since Mount Tambora erupted in Indonesia, spewing ash into the air and filling the sky with a haze that stretched over all of Europe. Chloe and everyone else prayed it would pass soon. Crops were beginning to suffer.
Bean wrapped the vase in a blanket and set it at their feet, where it couldn’t fall from the seat and be damaged.
“How is your megrim?” she asked.
“It is now a full body ache,” he admitted. “I’ve not been sleeping well, and I likely won’t until we’ve settled this Spranklin Seminary business. I promise to rest once the children are safe and settled.”
Chloe didn’t like this answer, but neither could she argue with it.
None of the siblings were at peace. This case was too personal. They’d all been orphans once, and they’d all entrusted their lives to a stranger.
Bean was the best father in the world. That sort of luck was unlikely to strike twice. But the thought of being chosen, only to be thrown away all over again...
“Faircliffe residence,” Bean informed the driver.
As the coach sprang into motion, Chloe’s pulse jittered for a new reason.