Page 7 of The Stolen Sparkler
I did not wonder why he wished to remain in Eleanor’s and, by extension, her father’s good graces. Needham had no male issue, which meant one day Alistair would inherit the Needham title and estate. He was easygoing and affable, though not particularly inclined toward serious conversation. As he enjoyed a passion for horses and outdoor sports, he preferred the stables and the playing fields. Still, he was more than happy to attend family events, especially when they were held at Needham Hall.
“Honestly, Lavinia. What a busybody you are,” Miss Felicity Needham, Eleanor’s other female cousin, chided. The daughter of Lord Needham’s youngest brother, she neither enjoyed Eleanor’s beauty nor Lavinia’s liveliness. As she stood to inherit nothing, her goal was to marry and marry well, something she’dpursued since her debut. Much as she tried, she’d found that goal difficult to accomplish. And at twenty-eight years of age, she was growing desperate. “I find it downright rude to inquire about someone’s marriage plans. Especially, when they may never come to pass.” Turning to the duke who was seated next to her, she asked, “Don’t you agree, Your Grace?”
It was no wonder she was seeking favor with Steele. She probably thought of him as a prospect, given he was a widower. I knew nothing about the duke’s views on walking down the aisle once more. But since he hadn’t done so for close to ten years after his wife’s death, it was logical to assume he was not in the market for a spouse. But then again, what did I know?
“I find it best to keep my opinions to myself, Miss Needham,” Steele said. A response that could be taken in many ways. But then, he was known for his circumspect remarks.
Felicity must have decided he’d agreed with her as she let out a cackling laugh. “Your Grace, how very marvelous you joined us for the Christmas Ball festivities. I fully intend to ensure you enjoy yourself.”
“A noble sentiment,” Steele said.
The remainder of the luncheon continued pleasantly enough. Alistair proved to be an amusing conversationalist, as long as he was allowed to discuss his beloved horseflesh. As for Cumberforth, I only exchanged brief remarks with him as his eyes and ears were all for Eleanor.
At the end of the meal, Eleanor announced she’d planned an outing for this afternoon—a trip to the woods to fetch the Yule log for the cavernous fireplace in the hall. The duke excused himself from the activity as there was something he needed to attend to. I claimed I needed to lie down as a migraine was making itself felt.
Amidst a chorus of “Hope you feel better,” and “Get your rest,” I made my exit alongside the duke. He was solicitousenough to offer his arm while we climbed the stairs before we headed to our respective bedchambers. We’d previously decided we’d meet in the study once the Yule log party departed Needham Hall.
I didn’t have long to wait. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Eleanor’s maid, Martha, stood on the other side. “They’ve gone, milady.”
“Thank you, Martha.”
The house was a maze of narrow hallways, dark wooden paneling, and plush carpets—familiar and yet suddenly unfamiliar in the light of what had occurred. There was no need to rush. I did, however, as I didn’t want to keep the duke waiting. He’d made it perfectly clear he thought me a lightweight. My pride refused to confirm that opinion by being late. I arrived at the study to find the duke already there, his back to the fireplace.
Curtsying, I said, “Your Grace, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all.” He inclined his head. “I arrived but a minute ago.”
I had to admit he made an imposing figure in his perfectly tailored garments. There was nothing of the dandy about him, however. More than likely, he simply appreciated a well-cut cloth. Tall and broad-shouldered with a streak of white in his black hair—a family trait I’d heard—he commanded the room in a way that did not seem possible. And yet he did. As always, he was dressed in unrelenting black. According to rumors, it signified mourning for his wife, who’d died during childbirth barely a year into their marriage.
“First things first,” he began briskly, his hands clasped behind his back. “We need to establish the timeline. When did Lady Eleanor first realize the necklace was stolen?”
After taking a seat on the settee closest to the fireplace, I replied, “This morning. She opened her jewelry box to make certain the necklace was there, only to find it gone.”
The duke nodded thoughtfully. “Who knew where the necklace was kept?”
“Her maid,” I answered. “The necklace is usually kept in Lord Needham’s safe here in his study, but yesterday she asked her maid to fetch it. She wanted to make sure the clasp was secure, and the stones were polished. And she wanted to see how it looked with her ball gown.”
“Who was in the house at the time?” The duke’s gaze was piercing, his expression unyielding.
I recited the list Eleanor and I had pieced together. “All the servants, naturally. Lady Eleanor’s cousins. Lord Cumberforth arrived shortly after them. His parents are expected to arrive tomorrow.”
“Did the cousins see the necklace?”
I hesitated. “Her female cousins did. She was wearing it when they came into her room. It’s possible they told their brothers about it. They’re a close-knit family.”
“A dangerous thing, flaunting such a valuable piece,” he muttered.
I rushed to her defense. “She wasn’t flaunting it. They showed up unannounced.”
“Ummm.” That supercilious brow of his took a hike. “Regardless, we’ll need to follow up on that. But first I need to inspect Lady Eleanor’s bedchamber. We have to determine if there was any sign of forced entry or if the thief entered by more subtle means.”
I inclined my head in agreement. “Yes, of course. Martha, her maid, is waiting there for us.” Eleanor had arranged it during our previous discussion.
Lost in thought, I held my silence while we climbed the stairs and proceeded to Eleanor’s bedchamber. Martha was expecting us as we barely had to knock before she thrust open the door. “Your Grace, milady,” After a brief curtsy, she moved aside.
Once inside Eleanor’s room, the duke and I surveyed the surroundings with keen eyes. It was a well-appointed space—floral wallpaper, lace curtains, and a delicate four-poster bed covered in an embroidered counterpane. Lady Eleanor’s jewelry box sat innocently upon her vanity, and the wardrobe doors stood ajar.
“Was the window open at any time from the moment you last saw the necklace until Lady Eleanor discovered it was gone?” the duke asked sharply, stepping toward it.
