men.
Pyne had recovered from the compounding shocks of the successive revelations. “I say, Matthew, that’s rotten luck. But what will you do now?”
Morris, too, looked at her father. “Now you won’t have the funds from selling the painting.”
Her father’s expression remained relaxed. “As it happens, the situation with the painting might not be a complete loss.”
“Oh?” came from Pyne.
Morris looked equally interested, and even Masterton looked up.
“Apparently,” her father said, “the forgery is an exceptionally good one. Lord Godfrey recognized the artist’s work and knows who the forger is. Given we have the documents that prove beyond question that the original Albertinelli is ours…” Her father broke off and appealed to Godfrey. “I have that right, don’t I, my lord?”
Godfrey nodded. “Indeed. There is no question that legally, that particular painting belongs to the Hinckleys.”
“Yes, well,” Mr. Hinckley went on, “as that’s the case, there might be a way to reclaim the painting and, thereafter, complete the sale to the gallery. It’s possible this business with the forgery might turn out to be simply a delay. Luckily, we have sufficient funds to see us through—we can wait to see what transpires.”
All three visitors were now frowning.
Eventually, Masterton said, “I confess I don’t quite understand. If the original painting has vanished, how will you reclaim it?”
Mr. Hinckley looked at Godfrey. “If you would, my lord?”
Pyne’s, Morris’s, and Masterton’s gazes swung to Godfrey, and he explained, “I intend to visit the forger and, from him, learn the name of whoever commissioned the copy of the Albertinelli and follow the trail from there.”
Throughout their revelations, Godfrey had been watching the newcomers’ faces. Pyne continued to look intrigued, and Morris’s curiosity appeared appeased, while Masterton’s expression had turned impassive, and his tone was faintly aggressive when he asked, “And then what?”
Evenly, Godfrey replied, “Once we’ve determined who now holds the original painting, we can use the provenance to reclaim it under law.” He paused, then added, “It might take some time, but there are various levers that can be pulled to make the attempt more likely to succeed.”
Masterton’s frown had rematerialized. He nodded, but distantly, as if he was now pondering something else. “I see.”
Ellie viewed Masterton’s expression and inwardly shook her head. She would wager he was in the throes of realizing that she and her family were, even now, not at the point of being forced to turn to him for assistance. He’d first discussed the notion with her father prior to them deciding to sell the painting. She and her father both regarded accepting financial assistance from Masterton—who, when all was said and done, was a very distant connection—as a last resort; neither had considered it wise to place themselves in Masterton’s debt, thus giving him a weapon to hold over her head to force her to marry him.
Cynically, she wondered what steps his latest calculations would prompt him to; that seemed to be the way he lived his life, with every action calculated to be of most benefit to him.
Meanwhile, Pyne had asked Godfrey when he intended to set out to confront the forger, and with a glance her way, Godfrey had replied that given he would have to travel to the Continent, the timing of his journey would depend on the weather.
For his part, Morris had clearly thought things through and was now making approving noises, while Pyne was transparently encouraging.
Ellie glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw that it was already noon. She looked at Masterton. “Will you stay for luncheon?”
He met her eyes, glanced briefly at Godfrey, then returned his gaze to her. “Thank you. I will.”
His tone remained distant, almost absentminded, but his intention to keep an eye on any interaction between her and Godfrey could not have been plainer.
Once again mentally shaking her head while holding back a satisfied smile, Ellie rose and, waving the men back when they started to come to their feet, left to inform Kemp and Cook that they had not two but three guests for luncheon.
Godfrey was aware of the suspicious, dog-in-the-manger glances Masterton was directing his way. Too bad; he was not in the mood to pander to the other man’s apparent but mistaken belief that he had some proprietary interest in Ellie.
Indeed, as the company adjourned to the dining room and Godfrey strolled beside Ellie with Masterton, rigidly impassive, pacing on her other side, Godfrey was hard-pressed to keep his smile to himself and his expression suitably unrevealing.
She’d come to his room last night, and they’d