The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,99
was nearly three years ago.”
“What the devil does he do with the money?” Harry spread his hands. “He lives in lodgings in Ripon. This isn’t London with extravagant prices for everything.”
Jeffers smiled faintly. “No, but there are plenty of opportunities to gamble in York—the races, the dens—and both are as bad as anything you’ll find farther south.” He paused, then looked at Mr. Hinckley. “Cawley’s notes on Masterton say he—Masterton—gambles heavily, and he likes to play the part of a well-heeled gentleman, which also runs through money. Cawley’s assessment was that Masterton’s funds went on the tables, the nags, and on wine, women, and song.”
Mr. Hinckley grimaced.
Kemp approached, and Mr. Hinckley waved the butler to present the main course.
Once they’d all been served and had swallowed their first mouthfuls, Mr. Hinckley said, “Looking back, I can see that Masterton was always careful to hide such propensities from me.” He glanced at Ellie and her siblings. “From everyone here. As we don’t get out much, that wouldn’t have been difficult.”
“We never met him anywhere but here,” Ellie pointed out. “We had no reason to suspect that his true character was different from what we saw.”
Godfrey felt protectiveness surge; the Hinckleys—all of them—were so honest and straightforward, it hadn’t occurred to them that Masterton wasn’t. On a flash of insight, he realized that he didn’t want the family—any of them—to change, to lose their faith in transparency, in openness; instead, in the future, he would act as their shield.
He who knew all about deception and deceit; it was as if Fate—not Eastlake—had sent him to Hinckley Hall.
Harry swallowed and frowned. “Speaking of the Albertinelli, one point I don’t understand is that Masterton himself was the one to suggest we think of selling it.” He appealed to his sisters. “Do you remember?”
Maggie nodded. “He didn’t tell us to sell that particular painting, but he suggested that if there was an old one we thought might be valuable and we didn’t actually like…” She glanced at her father. “Do you remember, Papa?”
Frowning, clearly racking his memories, Mr. Hinckley slowly nodded. “Yes. You’re right. I hadn’t thought of selling the Albertinelli until Masterton suggested it.”
“How long ago was that?” Jeffers asked.
Harry replied, “About six months ago.”
Jeffers nodded. “That coincides with Cawley’s attempts to get his debtors to pay back as much as possible before he sold his loan book.”
“But,” Ellie said, clearly puzzled, “Masterton knew the painting then hanging in Mama’s parlor was a forgery. Why on earth draw attention to it?”
Godfrey allowed the footman to remove his empty plate, then glanced up the table. “I can probably answer that. Through stealing and selling the original Albertinelli, Masterton learned how much the painting was worth—which was likely far more than he’d initially imagined. The forgery by Hendall is exceptional—there was a good, even excellent chance that it would pass as the original. Very few in this country would have recognized it as a forgery. If it had sold, then given the amount the family would have gained, I suspect Masterton had hopes of laying hands on at least some of it as a loan. Regardless, if he was already working on his long-term plan of marrying Ellie and gaining control of and subsequently selling the Hall, then from his point of view, your attempt to sell the painting would benefit him either way. If it sold to the gallery, the Hinckley estate would be in much better shape when he eventually got his hands on it—he would just have to find some way other than financial hardship to pressure Ellie to marry him. On the other hand, if the painting was identified as a forgery and the sale didn’t go ahead, that would leave the family more financially stretched—in his eyes, more vulnerable—and he would have redoubled his efforts to convince Ellie to marry him with promises of financial rescue.”
Harry snorted. “He couldn’t have financially rescued a cow barn.”
Godfrey tipped his head. “But no one here knew that, and he would have taken great care that you never found out—not until you discovered he’d sold the Hall and, I daresay, vanished.”
Jeffers nodded. “That sounds about right. Cawley had a note on file that he believed Masterton had returned to York and Ripon because London got too dangerous for him.”
Silence fell. Kemp and the footman reappeared and set out dessert plates, a bowl of rhubarb trifle, a platter of meringues, an apple pie, and a jug of cream. At Ellie’s urging, everyone helped themselves, then settled