by Andrea Kane
Noelle.
Abruptly, Ashford's insides clenched, and he stiffened, the ramifications of Noelle's relationship to Baricci, her current involvement in his life, registering in his mind with menacing clarity. How would she be impacted by all this? What new dangers would she be exposed to?
The very fact that Baricci was using her as a means to his end took on a new and ominous light, given last night's murder. It didn't matter if the bastard only intended Noelle as a pawn. Even a pawn might someday represent a threat—a threat that required eliminating. No. Noelle could have no part in this. She had to sever all ties with her sire—with him and his budding artist. There was no possible way Ashford could allow her to become further involved in Baricci's undoing.
Allow her?
The irony of that thought would have made Ashford laugh had he not been so worried. Permission was not something Noelle sought—not from him or anyone. She pursued things with the same reckless, tenacious spirit that he found so bloody arousing. Once she heard about this latest development, she'd be more determined than ever to see Baricci punished, to use Sardo to her advantage. And there would be no convincing her otherwise.
Ashford had to protect her—from Baricci, and from herself.
But how? How?
The answer exploded in a rush. Of course. It was the ideal solution, one that would solve a great many problems, the most critical of which was Baricci.
If Eric Bromleigh agreed to it.
"Father, I need you to do something for me," Ashford announced.
"Name it."
"Go back to the ball. Tell Lord and Lady Farrington I need to see them—now. In your study. Tell them it's urgent. Tell them anything you want, only get them down here without anyone suspecting it's more than a social chat. And then find a way to keep Noelle occupied. I don't want her knowing the details of this conversation—not yet. If you can't manage that part alone, get Mother's help. If anyone can find a way to divert Noelle, Mother can."
Pierce started in surprise. "Farrington? I thought we discussed this, and you said you didn't think he was involved with Baricci."
"I don't. I'm not speaking to him as a suspect, I'm speaking to him as Noelle's father."
Silence.
Then, Pierce leaned back against his desk, folded his arms across his chest, and shot his son a steely look. "Before I even ask you how all this ties in to Baricci, I'm going to ask you another question. What the hell is going on between you and Noelle Bromleigh? And don't tell me it's none of my business, because I'm making it my business.
"You disregarded her father's demands and arranged to see her by luring her to Markham. You haven't taken your eyes off her since she arrived. You managed to orchestrate several subtle disappearances with her—culminating in a lengthy one tonight. Have you any idea how angry Farrington was? He looked ready to call you out when he thought you'd whisked his daughter away from the ball and into the night. What's more, I don't blame him. I never intrude in your life, Ashford, but I'm intruding now. Are you trying to seduce Eric Bromleigh's daughter? And, if so, what the hell are you thinking?"
Ashford remained utterly still throughout his father's speech. It had been expected, given the staunch principles by which Pierce Thornton lived—by which the entire Thornton family lived.
Now, Ashford drew a slow breath, contemplating his father's words and his own answer. "Am I trying to seduce Noelle?" he repeated slowly. "Definitely not. On the contrary, I'm trying like hell not to seduce her. As for what I'm thinking—I'm not certain. I still haven't finished sorting out my thoughts—when I'm capable of having any, that is. I realize that's not much of an explanation, but it's the only one I can provide."
"I see." Pierce's expression remained unchanged. "Do you realize the consequences Noelle will suffer if you take her to bed? She'll be ruined, her entire life altered in a way she's too naive to fathom."
"I won't ruin her. That's not an option. It can't be." Ashford slowly raised his head, met his father's hard stare. "You better than anyone know my life is very complex, in more ways than a single soul—other than you and Mother—is aware. I didn't expect this emotional complication, and yet it's struck me like a ton of bricks. I have a great deal I need to work through. And before I do, I need to talk to Lord and Lady Farrington, because their response will impact what happens next—both personally and professionally. In short, I'm not ready to discuss this issue with you. You're just going to have to trust me."
Another silence, this one charged with energy.
At last, Pierce nodded. "All right." He pushed away from his desk. "Your conversation with the earl and countess—I assume it pertains to Baricci as well?"
"Yes. I'll supply you with all the details later. But I need to talk to the Bromleighs now, while the ball is still in full swing and they won't be missed—or followed by their overly-curious daughter."
"I'm on my way." Pierce paused, studying his son. "I certainly hope you know what you're doing."
He crossed over and left the study.
Ashford stared after him. "So do I," he muttered to himself. "So do I."
* * *
Pierce paused in the ballroom doorway, assessing the ongoing party. After several hours of merrymaking, the guests were either dancing, chatting, seeking refreshments, or so deep in their cups they could hardly stand.
No matter. The proverbial coffers were filled, spilling over with the thousands of hundred-pound notes that had been lost or donated during the past three days. The activities provided had been numerous and diverse, ranging from cards to billiards to horse racing. As for the amenities, Daphne had outdone herself, transforming Markham into a veritable haven for men, women, and children alike. She'd charmed their guests into the most generous of moods, and, as a result, the poorest of England's parishes would soon be the beneficiaries.
Speaking of Daphne, it was time to find her.
Scanning the room, Pierce located his family, one by one. They were scattered about, Sheridan and Blair holding court in the far corner, surrounded by half a dozen simpering women, Carston and Juliet enjoying a minuet together, and Daphne sipping at some punch, laughing and conversing with all three Bromleighs.
Thank God for his wife's uncanny instincts. Somehow she'd known to remain where she was, to linger with the earl and countess until he returned.
Nodding politely at his guests, Pierce made his way to their sides.
"Ah, Pierce." Daphne gave him a melting smile, tucking her arm through his. "I'm glad you could break away."
Noelle's head shot up, and she craned her neck, scrutinizing the room in a less-than-subtle search for Ashford.
"Ashford is still in my study," Pierce supplied helpfully. "He's assisting me by tallying up all the donations we've received and determining how best to divide them. Each parish has a different number of people, each of whom has different needs. Which reminds me—" A glance at Eric. "My son has a financial question that pertains to Mr. Curran's parish. He's hoping you'll be able to provide him with an answer. He asked if you and the countess could possibly slip away from the party for a few minutes and poke your head into my study. I realize tonight's gathering is social, not business. And both Ashford and I hate imposing upon you, but…"
"Nonsense." Instantly, Brigitte waved away his apology. "Raising money for the needy is what this party is all about. With regard to our parish, Grandfather is incredibly grateful for all you've done—all you continue to do. Eric and I would be honored to assist you in any way we can."
"My wife speaks for us both." Eric took Brigitte's hand in his. "We'll go see your son straightaway. Just tell us where we can find the study."
"I'll take you there." Pierce turned to Daphne, his gaze speaking far more eloquently than his words. "You don't mind, do you, Snow Flame?"
She picked up on his message, if not the rationale behind it, at once. "Of course not. Noelle and I will be just fine. We'll entertain each other, won't we?" She gave Noelle a warm smile.
"I'd li
ke that," Noelle replied. She inclined her head at Pierce, her expression quizzical. "Forgive me for asking, Your Grace, but your reason for needing to speak with Ashford—it related to finances?"
"Indeed it did. My son is brilliant with numbers." Pierce returned her puzzled look with one of his own. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm not sure." Noelle shrugged. "Perhaps because you both seemed so earnest when you spoke—not that you said or did anything overt, but just that there seemed to be an underlying tension…" She broke off. "I suppose I have an overly active imagination."
"Not at all." A surge of admiration shot through Pierce. This young woman was astute. Very astute. "The truth is, Ashford and I do tend to become very intense when we're dealing with money—especially money meant to benefit others. I apologize if we caused you any concern."
"You needn't apologize. I understand." In contrast to her claim, Noelle looked thoroughly unconvinced, and Pierce began to see why Ashford considered the chore of diverting her a daunting one indeed.
Hopefully Daphne would find a way to do so.
Even as he culminated his thought, Pierce sensed, rather than saw, his wife turn her head, visually communicating with someone nearby.
He didn't need to look to see who that someone was.
"Enjoy the party," he told Noelle, confident that the necessary diversion had been arranged. "I'll show your parents to the study."
Pierce, Brigitte, and Eric moved off.
Noelle had just taken a reflexive step to follow them, when Carston appeared by her side.
"Lady Noelle, may I have the honor of this dance?" he inquired with a bow.
She blinked, looking about and realizing that many guests were lining up in pairs, preparing for a reel. "Oh." She caught a quick glimpse of her parents as they disappeared through the doorway. Then she turned back to Carston. "Of course. I'd be delighted, my lord. Thank you."
He offered her his arm and led her onto the floor.
"Was that helpful?" Juliet murmured in her mother's ear. "Perfect, darling," Daphne assured her, watching with satisfaction as Noelle got caught up in the dance. "Noelle is not an easy young woman to fool. Then again, I suspect your brother already knows that, which is why our combined efforts—yours, mine, and your father's—were needed."
"What do you think Ashe wants to discuss with the earl and countess?" Juliet sounded as excited as a young girl. "Or need I ask?"
Daphne's slender brows arched in amusement. "I think it's a little soon for what you're alluding to. However, it's safe to say that this talk will not solely be about business."
"Mother, he's in love with her."
A sage nod. "Yes, dear, I know."
"The question is, does Ashe?"
Sparks of pleasure lit Daphne's eyes. "I believe he's in the process of finding out."
* * *
Pierce ushered Eric and Brigitte into the study, then shut the door and took his leave.
Ashford stood near the window, staring out across the grounds.
"How can we be of help?" Eric asked him, scanning the empty desk with a baffled look.
"Pardon me?" Ashford pivoted to face them, his eyes narrowed in question.
"Your father said you had a financial question that pertained to our parish. We're here to answer it."
"Ah." A half-smile. "Father's keen mind never ceases to amaze me." Slowly, Ashford crossed over to the desk, gesturing for Eric and Brigitte to sit. "Thank you for coming so quickly. As it happens, I do have a question for you. But it's not financial, and it has nothing to do with your parish. That excuse was simply something Father conjured up to hasten your appearance and delude any eavesdroppers."
"I don't understand," Brigitte murmured, settling herself in an armchair. "What is this about, Lord Tremlett?"
"Noelle."
In the process of lowering himself into a seat, Eric froze, his head shooting up like a bullet. "You summoned us here to discuss Noelle? Why?"
"Because I believe she might be in danger."
That was obviously the last reply Eric had expected, and his entire demeanor changed. "Danger?" he repeated tentatively. "What kind of danger?"
"The kind spawned by her blood ties to Franco Baricci."
Silence.
Brigitte found her voice first. "Noelle told you about those ties?"
"No. I already knew of them. In fact, there's very little I don't know about Franco Baricci. And his reprehensible treatment of women is just the tip of the iceberg."
Eric had gone grey. "You'd better explain."
"I intend to." Ashford plunged in without further ado, relaying the necessary facts: his investigations into the missing paintings, his suspicions that Baricci was behind them, his determination to prove Baricci a criminal and see him behind bars. "I know the scoundrel is guilty. What's more, he knows I know. Now it's up to me to find proof."
"Where does Noelle fit into this?" Eric interrupted, the anger back in his voice. "Have you been using my daughter, deceiving her into believing you enjoy her company, when, in fact, you've wanted only to find out what she knows about that scum Baricci? Because if so, you're wasting your time. Noelle knows absolutely nothing—"
"If so, I'd be as contemptible as Baricci," Ashford corrected. "I do not use women, Lord Farrington. So, no, I'm not using your daughter. I did introduce myself to her in the hopes of learning more about Baricci—a fact, incidentally, that I've already admitted to Noelle—but I assure you, whatever's happened since then is entirely real, and entirely beyond my comprehension, much less my control." He held up a restraining palm. "We'll get to my relationship with Noelle later—you have my word. But first let's finish discussing Baricci.
"The day Noelle visited his art gallery, he sent for her. Did she tell you that?"
"Yes."
"Did she also tell you I escorted her and her lady's maid to the gallery?"
"Yes, Tremlett," Eric bit out. "It might surprise you to learn that, with the exception of embarking on that one impulsive trip to London, Noelle is not in the habit of keeping secrets from us."
"To the contrary, that doesn't surprise me at all. Noelle is extraordinarily open and honest. She also loves you both with all her heart. It's that love, however, which probably caused her to omit one or two details from her explanation."
"Such as?"
"Such as the fact that Baricci was preoccupied with how well-acquainted Noelle and I were, what role I played in her life. He questioned her about our association quite thoroughly, then formed who knows what conclusions."
"Oh no." Brigitte's hand flew to her mouth. "You said Baricci is aware of your suspicions about him. Given that you and Noelle arrived together, he must have assumed that her first-time appearance in his gallery was anything but a coincidence. He doubtless believes she's connected with your investigation."
"Exactly." Ashford nodded. "What's more, you're not the only one who came to that conclusion. Noelle did, too. She put two and two together, realized why I was circling Baricci like a hawk, and is now hell-bent on aiding me."
A harsh groan escaped Eric. "How?"
"Using the very tools he's provided us." Ashford paused, gauging his words carefully, well aware of the fine line he was about to walk. The instant he gave voice to Baricci's intimation that he and Noelle were lovers, Eric Bromleigh was going to erupt.
Perhaps the direct approach was the best.
"As Lady Farrington just said, Baricci assumes Noelle is working with me. He's just not quite sure how she factors into my plan or how deep her loyalties lie. The only thing he is certain of is how I secured those loyalties. He made that quite clear when he summoned Noelle to his office and stated his presumption that she and I were intimately involved."
Eric swore under his breath.
"Obviously, she denied his outrageous claim." Once again, Ashford weighed his words, this time for another, though no less difficult, reason. It was necessary that he broach the subject of Baricci's exploitation of women—yet, he was determined to
do so without mentioning Liza Bromleigh's name. It was bad enough he'd had to address Baricci's sordid allegations about Noelle. Dragging up painful memories of the past would be downright cruel to a man who was now a father and had, at one time, been a brother.
"As you well know, Baricci views women as pawns, there to seduce as a means to an end," he stated quietly.
A muscle worked in Eric's jaw. "Yes. I realize that."
"I bring that up only because it's the basis for Baricci's actions. Given that he relies upon seduction to secure what he wants, it stands to reason he's relying upon it now, using it to determine how committed Noelle is to me, as well as how much she knows."
All the color drained from Eric's face. "You can't mean—"
"No," Ashford denied swiftly, recognizing the direction Eric's thoughts had taken. "Baricci's immoral, but not depraved. He wouldn't designate himself for the job of wooing information out of Noelle. He'd choose someone acceptable—someone charming and highly effective—whose task it would be to find out just how involved Noelle and I are and how much of my investigation she's privy to."
"Is this speculation or fact?"
"Fact. At least with regard to Baricci's emissary, who was chosen and sent to Farrington Manor. Contrary to expectations, however, Noelle saw right through his plan the moment they met. And now she's determined to use him to our advantage."
"That artist," Eric realized, his tone laced with bitterness. "André Sardo."
"Exactly." Ashford nodded. "By the time Sardo showed up on your doorstep, Noelle was already suspicious of Baricci. So when she learned he was the one who had commissioned Sardo to paint her portrait, she guessed precisely what he was about. She kept her opinion to herself until she arrived at Markham, at which time she approached me with the idea of turning the tables on Sardo; gaining his trust, then maneuvering information out of him, perhaps even feeding him false information to pass on to Baricci. Objectively speaking, it was a superb idea, a sound way of trying to incriminate Baricci."
