“Line of questioning?” Lord Valentine arched a brow. His gaze dropped to her mouth. “You may probe me all you wish, Miss Kendall. You may use any method necessary to tease the answers from my lips.” He took a sip of tea and continued to study her over the china rim.
Ava blinked to dismiss the image of her straddling him on a chair while she kissed him to distraction. “What were you doing in Grafton Street yesterday? What need does a man of your wealth have for visiting a pawnbroker?”
After a moment’s hesitation, the lord lowered his cup. He glanced once at his mother who failed to meet his gaze this time.
“An item of considerable value was stolen from my mother’s home, and I am charged with the responsibility of finding it,” he said in a hushed voice. “A pawnbroker’s shop is the obvious place to look.”
It took a few seconds for the information to penetrate. Thoughts of her missing ring, of her mother’s writing slope and vanity box entered her mind.
“What? A thief has broken into this house, too?” she whispered.
Had Jonathan been telling the truth when he proclaimed his innocence?
Had a mysterious blackguard carried out a spate of thefts?
A crippling unease settled in Ava’s chest. Jonathan had asked if Lady Valentine had mentioned thefts in the area. Suspicion flared. Was Jonathan so desperate for funds he had committed the unthinkable act?
“What do you mean broken into this house, too?” Lord Valentine frowned.
“I have also had precious objects vanish from my home.”
“Recently?”
She nodded. “Within the last two weeks.”
“I see.”
A wall of silence stood between them though Ava knew his mind worked as frantically as hers and no doubt considered the same damning questions.
“You think Jonathan might be responsible.” There, she had put a voice to their misgivings. She considered the honourable gentlem
an standing before her, decided she would take his advice and confide her secrets. If she had any hope of saving her brother, she could not do so on her own. “Jonathan owes money to the Maguires.”
“The Maguires?”
“Two brothers responsible for dog-fighting and bear-baiting at the Westminster Pit.”
Lord Valentine jerked his head back. “Then he is in more trouble than you suspected.”
“He assures me he did not take my mother’s writing slope or her vanity box.” Ava swallowed deeply. She coughed to clear the croak in her throat. “He … he assures me he did not take the pink diamond ring my mother gave me for my twenty-first birthday.”
The muscle in the viscount’s jaw twitched. “Damnation.”
The room fell silent. Ava turned to find they were now the topic of interest.
Ava forced a chuckle. “We are discussing the probability that true villains are not as hideous as the monster but hide behind a more agreeable facade. You are welcome to join the debate.”
“Ah, no, no.” Lady Cartwright raised her hand and waved for them to continue. “In truth, that book gave me nightmares for nigh on two weeks.”
“Oh,” Matilda Faversham said. “I assumed I was the only one who found it terrifying.”
Ava waited for the ladies to resume their conversation before turning back to Lord Valentine.
“You should not be living in that house alone,” the lord whispered.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“No, you’re not.”