The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,82
the desk and accepted the letter with a short bow. “I’ll ask one of the grooms to take this into Ripon immediately, sir.”
“Thank you, Kemp.” Godfrey rose and, as Kemp made for the door, ambled down the room to join the group before the fire.
Masterton turned to greet him with a swift smile and noticed Kemp departing with the letter. “Cavanaugh. I was going to inquire if you were still studying the painting, but is that what I think it is?”
Pyne and Morris had also noticed Kemp and the letter. They, too, turned inquiring gazes on Godfrey.
He greeted the three men, then admitted, “Yes, that’s my report on its way to the directors of the gallery.”
“Well, then.” Pyne looked from Godfrey to Mr. Hinckley. “What’s the verdict? I take it it’s good news?”
All three men looked from Mr. Hinckley, to Godfrey, then back again.
Godfrey inclined his head to Mr. Hinckley, indicating that it was the older man’s decision as to what was revealed.
“As a matter of fact,” Mr. Hinckley said, “the answer is no. Sadly, our painting has proved to be a forgery.”
“What?” Morris looked dumbfounded.
“Really?” came from Pyne.
Masterton frowned. “But…how could that be?”
“How, indeed?” Godfrey murmured. All three men looked genuinely shocked.
“Sit”—Mr. Hinckley waved to the various chairs—“and between us, we’ll try to explain.”
Ellie resumed her seat. Once Godfrey, Masterton, Morris, and Pyne had settled in armchairs pulled into a circle, her father commenced the story of what they believed had happened to the painting old Henry Hinckley had brought home from Italy centuries ago.
Ellie studied Masterton, Morris, and Pyne. Given that whoever stole the painting would know the one now at the Hall was a forgery, she watched to see if any of their reactions seemed strange or strained or too studied. Despite seeing nothing but surprise and shock, she couldn’t help wondering if one of the three was their thief. Morris and Pyne had arrived for their customary Wednesday visit; they’d been regular visitors over the period during which the painting had been stolen and replaced, as had Masterton, who tended to call in whenever he was passing.
It could have been one of the three, but as she and Godfrey had concluded, there were simply too many people who had known of the painting to suspect everyone it might have been.
Godfrey had remained silent, sitting outwardly relaxed in the armchair beside hers while her father explained how they believed the thief had made away with the original Albertinelli, then returned with the forged copy and replaced it in the frame in her mother’s parlor.
“So, you see, we had no idea the original had been stolen.” Her father raised his hands in a gesture of resignation. “But it has been, so sadly, we no longer have it to sell.”
Morris and Pyne looked perturbed and unsettled, while Masterton appeared to be pondering deeply.
After several seconds of silence, Pyne’s gaze flicked to Godfrey, then he cleared his throat and ventured, “Perhaps a second opinion…?”
Ellie glanced at her father as he waved that aside and stated, “I have complete faith in Lord Godfrey’s abilities.”
It was the first the three had heard of Godfrey’s title. The change in Pyne’s expression was almost comical, while Morris’s jaw fell. Ellie fought down a grin. It was time that tidbit came out, and her father had chosen the perfect time to reveal it.
Seated on Godfrey’s other side, Masterton had swung his gaze to Godfrey. He stared, then muttered in a stunned, almost horrified tone, “Lord Godfrey?”
Godfrey merely arched his brows. “I prefer not to use my title when acting in my professional capacity.”
Masterton’s expression turned decidedly sour.
Ellie compressed her lips into a determinedly straight line; now was not the time to smile. Given Masterton’s seemingly never-fading hopes of her, he wouldn’t like seeing her consorting with a handsome lord and possibly getting ideas.
If only he knew…
Her composure nearly broke when Masterton said to Godfrey, “Now you’ve completed your assignment here, my lord, and the roads are clear, I assume you’ll be leaving shortly. When do you expect to be on your way?” Masterton managed to make the question passably polite.
His expression studiously mild, Godfrey glanced at Ellie, then met Masterton’s gaze. “That’s yet to be decided.”
Predictably, Masterton frowned. He shot a searching look at Ellie; she met it with her customary unperturbed assurance, although, inside, she was dancing with happiness that there was now no chance whatsoever that Masterton would ever succeed in pressuring her to marry him.