The inspector shook his head. “I’m aware.”

  “Anyway, in keeping our assets separate, Patrick forgot to add a line in his will for the necklace.”

  “Which formerly belonged to his mother, as I understand it?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “So, the necklace was inherited from Patrick, hence, it should have been handed down to Andrew?”

  I frowned. I could tell the inspector didn’t like me—the truth of such sentiment was there in his eyes. For my own part, I found his bias to be completely unfair because this was the first time we’d ever said two words to one another. “That’s not true or...” I paused as I considered it and cocked my head to the side. “Perhaps it was true at one point, but it’s not true any longer.”

  The inspector tried to placate me with a smile but it wasn’t genuine. Like the smile of a cat to a mouse before it’s ready to pounce. “And why is it no longer true?”

  “Because Patrick gave me the necklace and in doing so, it became mine.”

  Inspector Stirling frowned. “And what proof have you that Patrick gave it to you?”

  I sighed and inspected my gloved hand, lacking an answer for him. “I can only assume this is Andrew’s latest attempt to get back at me,” I said as a wave of frustration washed over me. This whole thing was a huge misunderstanding that had thwarted my day in the most inconvenient way.

  “And why should Andrew want to get back at you?”

  “He’s always resented me, ever since I married his father. But I never thought his resentment would go this far—especially after I’ve already endowed him with three necklaces that far outweigh the value of this particular one.”

  Inspector Stirling appeared surprised. “You purchased three diamond necklaces for him?”

  “I did.”

  “And can you prove as much?”

  I nodded. “Hancocks & Co. will corroborate my statement.”

  The inspector nodded and stroked his chin. “Mr. Fairfax failed to mention that.”

  I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course, he did. He probably also failed to mention that not only did I purchase the home in which he currently resides, but I also provide him with a stipend of £100 a month from my own inheritance that I received when my father passed away. And I do so in honor of my late husband, not because I have to.”

  His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Clearly, Andrew hadn’t painted the full picture for the inspector.

  “Your generosity aside, Mrs. Fairfax,” he continued, clearing his throat as the frown returned to his face. “Have you any proof that the necklace was indeed given to you by your late husband?”

  I shook my head and sighed. That was the sticking point. “No, I’m afraid not. But you should ask yourself, Inspector, why would I steal from my own family? Especially since I don’t need to?”

  His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fairfax, but it’s simply your word against Mr. Fairfax’s. And the only thing we have to rely on is your husband’s will.”

  I gritted my teeth. “This is completely unfair!” I started to stand up as I faced him with a frown, figuring I now needed to procure a lawyer. What a bother! “Shall I suppose you’ll let me know when my trial is set? Until then, I shall return home.”

  Inspector Stirling leaned forward and reached out to take my shoulder, pushing me back down into the chair. It was a strange thing for him to do—invading my personal space in such a way—as if we were familiar with one another. Left with no other alternative, I sat again but I was none too happy about it.

  “Until I can verify your claim, I’m afraid I have no choice but to hold you here.”

  A surge of panic overtook me then. He couldn’t be serious! “Hold me? Here? You mean, I’m under arrest?”

  He looked at me as if I were daft in the head. “That’s exactly what you are.”

  “But... I can pay whatever bail you require for my release.”

  He shook his head. “Bail is set at the discretion of the magistrate or judge handling the case, and your case hasn’t progressed that far, Mrs. Fairfax. You must remain here until a judge decides how to proceed with you.”

  “Or until you can prove that I’m innocent?”

  He cocked his head to the side and nodded, although his expression told me he doubted my innocence.

  I slumped back into the chair, suddenly feeling defeated. This was not how I imagined my day would be and I was starting to get more irritated by the second. “I must inform you that I have an engagement this evening, and a most important engagement at that. I don’t have time to be incarcerated in one of your... most unhygienic cells.”

  The inspector arched a brow and a smile ghosted his lips at my description of his cells. “An engagement?”

  “A ball,” I replied, sitting up a little straighter. “Lord Abbott is the host and he personally requested my presence—I am to be an honorary guest of sorts.”

  “Why should I care about that?”

  I rolled my eyes, figuring he wouldn’t understand. Not only was he a man, but he and I weren’t cut from similar bolts of fabric. “I’m something of a fashion icon to the ladies of the ton. As such, they expect me to parade my newest gown at Lord Abbott’s ball—a gown straight from Paris, of course.”

  “Of course,” he repeated with a facetious smile.

  I gave him an expression that conveyed how little I cared for his mockery. “Lord Abbott made a special note regarding the reveal of this particular gown in his invitations, so it would be highly impolite if I did not attend.”

  “And why should Lord Abbott have such an interest in you and your silly French gowns?”

  I shrugged, choosing to ignore the part about ‘silly, French gowns’. “He intends to start carrying a line of French gowns in his Liberty department store.”

  The detective had a serious look on his face, one that promised to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “I’m sure all the ladies of the ton and Lord Abbott too, for that matter, will understand why you couldn’t attend your soiree as soon as word gets out that you are sitting in prison for stealing a diamond necklace that doesn’t belong to you.”

  I bristled at his comment, failing to appreciate his sarcasm. “I won’t be sitting in prison.”

  “You, Mrs. Fairfax, don’t seem to understand just how much trouble you’re facing.” While I initially found his thick Scottish accent somewhat charming, now it just irritated me.

  I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I understand perfectly well, thank you. I just don’t see why I should be in any trouble in the first place, since I’m telling you the truth.”

  He raised an eyebrow, studying me for a moment. “You are in trouble, Mrs. Fairfax, because you were caught with a stolen necklace in your possession.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know that much. But if the system favored women as much as it favors men, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.”

  He let out a low chuckle. “Is that so? And what do you suggest we do about that?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you could start by treating women as equals in the eyes of the law?”

  His lips twitched, but the smile never fully appeared on his mouth. Good thing too because that would only have enraged me, I was sure. “I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, we need to figure out what to do with you.”

  “You could release me and allow this misunderstanding to work itself out.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression turning serious once more. “Forgive me for being a bit skeptical, given your past.”

  My jaw clenched at that. “What does my past have to do with any of this?”

  He took a seat on the edge of his desk, just beside me and leaned forward, his eyes fastened on mine. “As I understand it, Patrick died fairly soon after bringing you over from America. I can’t help but wonder if that particular story contains much more than meets the eye.”

  I stiffened, my heart pounding as my anger and indignation began to flood me. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with my husband’s death?”

  He leaned further forward, his expression intense. “I find it suspicious that Patrick died so soon after you arrived in London.”

  I glared at him, recoiling at the insinuation. “As you’re well aware, my husband died of tuberculosis; there was nothing sinister about it.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but said nothing more. Instead, he just studied me with narrowed eyes. “Tell me more about your life in America.”

  “What do you want to know?” And why had this conversation taken such a personal turn?

  “For starters: how did you meet Patrick Fairfax?”

  I sighed—I really didn’t have the time for this, because it was true—Lord Abbott was throwing a huge gala this evening. To properly prepare for it, I needed to start in an hour or so. But as I eyed the inspector, I sensed he was used to playing by his own rules. And when in Rome... “My father was a notable archaeologist and traveled the world, giving lectures about the artifacts he found.”

  “What is your maiden name?”

  “Russe.”

  Inspector Stirling nodded as if he recognized my surname, which wasn’t much of a surprise. My father was very well known before he died. “Is your father Archibald Russe?”

  “Yes—he was Archibald Russe. He’s dead now.”

  “Apologies,” he said with a clipped nod. “I remember Patrick talking about attending one of your father’s lectures at the British Museum.”

  I nodded. “That’s how I met Patrick. At the British Museum during one of my father’s tours.”

  “Ah, yes,” the inspector said, getting up and walking around his desk before taking a seat in his chair. He leaned back in it, bobbing up and down like a buoy on a turbulent sea. “And how did your relationship develop from there?”

  “After our initial introduction, Patrick began calling on me while my father and I were still in London. Later, when we returned to the states, Patrick made a few trips to Boston to visit me,” I continued, feeling a twinge of nostalgia for those early days of our courtship. I missed Patrick terribly, especially at times like this, when I was reminded of our short time together. It made me miss him even more. “When we weren’t physically in the same country, we corresponded. My father and I made many trips here to visit him.”

  “Then shall I assume the sudden fortune Patrick came into was yours? He certainly earned a good wage as superintendent but nothing that would enable him to live the lavish lifestyle you must be accustomed to.”

  I frowned because it was impolite to discuss finances, but the inspector didn’t seem like someone overly concerned with propriety. “My father uncovered many ancient relics and antiquities which he sold to museums and private collections. It allowed him to earn a very respectable living.”

  The inspector laughed at that, shaking his head. “I’d call your inheritance more than respectable.”

  “Call it what you like.”

  He nodded, seeming to accept my explanation—at least for the time being. “Interesting. And what made you decide to settle in London?”

  I shrugged. “Patrick—as Superintendent of Scotland Yard, he wasn’t eager to leave his post.”

  The inspector leaned back in his chair, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “Yes, Patrick was the best at what he did. What I do find interesting though is that I worked with Patrick for years and yet I’m only just now meeting you.”

  “We had a long-distance courtship mostly. Until a year-and-a-half ago, when he asked me to marry him. We were married in Boston.”

  “Is that where you’re originally from?”

  I nodded. “Then, my father died, so Patrick moved me out to London. But after four months, he too was gone.” I paused for a moment, trying to keep the sad thoughts from my mind.

  “Go on.”

  “I found it... unbearable to live in London without him so I moved to Paris for a little over a year.” I swallowed hard as something occurred to me. “Did he never speak of me?”

  Inspector Stirling studied me for a few seconds before he released the breath he was holding. “He spoke of you—quite often. That is, when he was here—in London. Towards the end of his life, I must admit he wasn’t here in the office very much. I shouldered the majority of his cases.”

  Neither of us said anything after that and the silence stretched between us for a good few seconds. Inspector Stirling just continued to look at me, as if trying to make me uncomfortable with the depth of his gaze. Strangely enough, I got the feeling that he was somehow amused by me. Amused, perhaps, but also suspicious.

  “So, Mrs. Fairfax,” he said finally, his Scottish accent thickening on my name, “there is still the matter of the diamond necklace.”

  “I swear to you, Inspector Stirling, Patrick gave it to me as a gift. He said it was a family heirloom that he wanted me to have.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Did he put that in writing anywhere, Mrs. Fairfax? At this point, that’s the only way you’ll be able to prove your innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  I shook my head, feeling a surge of frustration. “No, he didn’t—as far as I know, he didn’t.” Then something occurred to me. “Don’t you wonder why I would risk incarceration to steal a necklace when I’m already an heiress?”

  He looked at me shrewdly. “Your father’s fortune is no guarantee of your own financial stability, Mrs. Fairfax. People have been known to do all kinds of desperate things for money.”

  I glared at him, feeling insulted. “I’m not ‘people.’ I’m a respectable widow and I would never stoop so low as to steal a piece of jewelry unless it were rightfully mine and something my husband fully intended for me to have.”

  He sighed, looking almost apologetic. “My hands are tied, Mrs. Fairfax. Unless you can provide concrete evidence that the necklace was endowed to you, I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you with grand theft.”

  CHAPTER TWO:

  PHILIPPA

  An hour later, I was back in my holding cell.

  Even though it was daylight outside, there were no windows in this horrid, little enclosure, which made day and night fairly indistinguishable. My eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cell, and I could discern the faint shapes of mice scurrying along the cold stone floor. Holding my skirts above my ankles, I moved to the area closest to the lamp light in the hallway.

  The vermin didn’t frighten me. From the time I was a young girl, I traveled with my father all over the world in his search for antiquities. There was many a night when I found myself in a tent in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, or the Colosseum in Rome, or the Temple of the Inscriptions in Palenque or the Great Stupa of Sanchi in India. So a few mice in a dismal cell in London wasn’t going to make me scream.

  The low light of a flickering gas lamp in the distance cast a faint glow across the walls, revealing the cobwebs that were suspended in the dark corners of my holding cell. The walls and floor were made of stone and while it was a decently warm day outside, this awful place felt subarctic, both damp and cold.

  I felt a weight on my chest as I stood (I refused to sit) alone in that dank room, a heaviness that seemed almost unbearable. I knew what was coming, what my fate would be—Andrew had won. Inspector Stirling didn’t believe me and there was no way I could prove the truth of my claim, never mind my financial provisions for Andrew. Truthfully, this was probably part of Andrew’s attempt to secure my fortune for himself. If I were languishing in prison, who knew what would become of my inheritance?

  As I stared into the darkness, a chill ran down my spine, and a feeling of dread crept in like a fog. I heard faint echoes of teasing laughter or angry drunkenness coming from the other cells, sounds that only served to intensify the hollowness inside me. I was all alone, stuck in a place with no escape, and I had no control over my destiny.

  I buried my head in my hands, trying to keep myself together. I had to focus on something, anything to distract me from the despair that threatened to overtake me. I took slow, deep breaths, wondering how in the world I could get out of this debacle. Maybe if I just gave the necklace back to Andrew, (I was quite certain the inspector had it in his possession), we could forget about this matter altogether. It wasn’t as though I valued the necklace itself—I only cared about it because it was a gift from Patrick on the most wonderful of days: our wedding day. And now that Patrick was gone, anything that reminded me of him was priceless in my eyes. It was the memories attached to the necklace that mattered so much to me, not the diamonds themselves.

  I knew better though—even if I willingly agreed that the necklace was rightfully Andrew’s, he wouldn’t drop the charges against me. No, he had to be riding high, knowing I was incarcerated in Scotland Yard, and I had no doubt word was rapidly spreading about my ignoble fate. Not that I cared a fig what the London elite thought of me—my father had always taught me that the only person one has to answer to is the person in the mirror. It was a lesson Patrick heartily agreed with.

  “Pippa.”

  I heard the deep voice come from directly behind me and nearly gasped with surprise, even as I doubted my own ears.

  In what felt like slow motion, I turned around.

  And then I saw him.

  He was standing at the door of my cell, looking as handsome and distinguished as the day I married him. His chestnut hair was swept back, and his brown eyes were bright as they peered into mine. His hair was cut short, and his clean-shaven face was just as I remembered it. He was wearing the same smart, tailored suit he’d been buried in.

  “Patrick?” My voice was thick as I hurried over to him, my heart thumping wildly in my chest as my brain tried to register the man or the appearance of the man before me.

  I’d seen Patrick, or his spirit, three times before now. The first time was the night the sickness finally claimed him. After everyone had gone and left me to my solitude, I succumbed to my own grief and while I was sobbing on my bed, I felt him. When I looked up, there he was.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7