“Not even to you, Lucius.” Honora winced as if the words pained her.
“I see.”
“You must understand, had Hamilton not come to my aid in the ballroom, everyone would have learnt of your father’s illness. I trusted him to keep our secret, and I afforded him the same courtesy.”
Valentine accepted her reason for withholding the truth—lying was too harsh a word. But what about the theft of the gem? Did Mr Fairfax know Honora had the ruby? If he was the one responsible for stealing into the house and making the swop, why was Valentine instructed to investigate his mother’s friends?
“What of the paste replica sitting in the goblet in the display cabinet?” Valentine said. Judging by the way his mother shuffled uncomfortably in the chair, he did not have to say anything more.
Jonathan Kendall’s pained expression served as forewarning, for Valentine knew that Honora’s next comment would invariably cause him distress.
This time, Honora held Valentine’s gaze. “I had the paste replica made, fearing Mr Fairfax might discover its whereabouts.” She coughed to clear her throat. “The real ruby was not stolen but is stored at the bank.”
Valentine sat in stupefied silence.
The world he knew tilted, leaving a sudden imbalance.
What astounded him most of all was not that his mother had concocted a story based on a vow she had made in the past, but that she had involved him in this invented tale. Why?
“I know you’re disappointed, Lucius.”
“Disappointed?” Hell, this was the first time in his life his relationship with Honora had ever been called into question. “You lied. To your own son. You led me on a merry dance.”
Honora flashed a mocking grin. “Hardly. Other than attending the meeting here the other day, you have made no enquiries into the stolen gem.”
Anger bubbled in Valentine’s chest.
“No, because I have been assisting Miss Kendall in her efforts to save that fool.” He stabbed his finger at Jonathan Kendall. “To save that fool from ending up dead in a ditch.” He shook his head and exhaled. “Besides, the damn thing hasn’t even been stolen.”
Ava shuffled her chair closer to Valentine and placed her hand on his forearm. “Honora would not have lied to you without a justifiable reason.”
Valentine cast Ava a sidelong glance. “I understand her reason. It hurts that she felt she could not trust me.”
“I know.” Ava offered a weak smile.
“My father once told me that if I ever found myself in trouble, I was to seek your mother,” Kendall interjected.
Valentine gritted his teeth. He refused to listen to a man with the brains of a trout. “Don’t tell me you have been pestering my mother to pay your damn debts. I hope you received the long lecture about family and responsibility.”
“Won’t you at least allow him to finish,” Honora chided. She rose from her seat and moved to the console table to refill her glass with sherry. “Perhaps then you might have a different opinion.”
The fool had gambled away his inheritance, disrespected his father’s name, trampled over the years of hard work. The bu
ffoon showed little regard for Ava’s welfare, did not protect her as a brother should. Valentine doubted anything would change his opinion.
“Then please continue.” Valentine gestured for the man to speak. “Feel free to enlighten us.”
Honora appeared at Valentine’s side. She thrust a tumbler of brandy at him, offered Ava a glass of sherry. Perhaps they needed a drink in preparation for whatever nonsense Kendall was about to spout.
“The debt I owed to the Maguires was not a gambling debt,” Jonathan began.
Valentine arched an arrogant brow. “You mean the debt you now owe me.”
Jonathan sighed and dragged a hand through his mop of dark hair. “I do not have a gambling problem, but it serves me for Fairfax to think that is the case.”
“You don’t?” Ava sat forward. “Then why are you pawning your belongings? Why did you sell Mother’s ring?”
Jonathan hung his head and rubbed his chin.