The Theft (Thornton 2)

"Indeed I do. As I just said, Noelle is not a liar. In fact, she's the most shockingly candid young woman I've ever encountered." He frowned. "Our problem is not how they met, but the very fact that they have. Noelle might not have known Ashford Thornton prior to today, but she knows him now."

"And he, I'm sure, knows her relationship to you."

"But of course. There's little or nothing Tremlett doesn't know about me. Just as I know him—and the way he operates. He'll seize this opportunity like a tiger seizes its prey and use Noelle in any way he can to get to me."

"That's precisely what's worrying me," Williams agreed. "In fact, I'd be willing to wager that Tremlett intends for us to agonize over it—he as much as said so. As he was leaving the gallery, he grasped Lady Noelle's arm, stared straight at me, and—keeping her close beside him—announced that he had what he needed for now. I doubt he was referring to the bidders' names I'd provided."

"I doubt it as well. You can be damned sure that Tremlett intends to use Noelle to his advantage. And, sadly, Noelle is just naive enough and certainly idealistic enough to fit his purposes."

"And to succumb to his charm?" Williams inquired.

A dark expression crossed Baricci's face. "Not if I can help it."

"Sir, with all due respect, Tremlett is as accomplished with women as he is with his investigations. And Lady Noelle is young, impressionable—the perfect target for Tremlett's seduction."

"Agreed. After which, she'll be putty in his hands. Therefore, it's up to me to provide a diversion, to supply my daughter with both a man upon whom to cast her eye and, as a result, a father upon whom to offer her allegiance." He pressed his lips together, his dark eyes glinting triumphantly. "I know just the man who can accomplish both—sweep young Noelle off her feet and convince her of the fine man her sire truly is."

Baricci strode to his desk, whisking out a sheet of paper and a pen. "I'll summon him at once. He'll be a delightful surprise for my newfound daughter, a fabulously talented artist to paint her portrait. What more exhilarating gift for a young girl on the verge of her coming-out? And what better way for me to demonstrate my noble intentions?"

A smile of smug realization curved Williams's lips. "Sardo," he pronounced. "He's the artist you're sending for."

"Who else but the best to paint Noelle's portrait?" Baricci asked with a chuckle. "If anyone can seduce my daughter and turn her allegiance in my direction, it's the dashing and exciting André Sardo. Once he's worked his magic, Tremlett's efforts will all be for naught. She'll belong to André, mind and body. And, as a result, she'll be sympathetic to me, rather than Lord Tremlett—should a choice become necessary."

Williams cleared his throat. "Are you certain Lady Noelle will compromise her virtue for any man?"

One sardonic brow rose. "Williams, every woman is attainable, given the right pursuit. André is a master. Few women can tear their eyes off him, much less resist that hot-blooded magnetism of his. As for Noelle, the chastity you astutely perceived might spawn reticence, but it will also beget vulnerability. The time I spent with her convinced me that she's not only untouched but totally inexperienced at recognizing the signs of seduction."

With a self-satisfied nod, Baricci began penning his note. "Don't worry, Williams," he assured the curator. "Noelle will succumb, virgin or not. She may not be as gullible as Liza, but she is a woman—one who's young and ripe for conquest. It may take a bit more persuasion on André's part, but that's what I pay him for. The important thing is that, difficult though Noelle's affections may be to acquire, they're worth acquiring. Because, given her fierce sense of loyalty, her allegiance, once won, will be mine forever."

* * *

That fierce sense of loyalty was the only thing that kept Noelle from turning on her heel and bolting back to her room the next morning.

Squaring her shoulders, she approached Farrington Manor's sitting room with all the trepidation of a prisoner about to face a firing squad. She knew what was coming, even though her parents didn't—yet. All they knew thus far was that she was up and about this morning, obviously feeling much better than she had the previous day, and that she'd asked to see them first thing before breakfast.

There was no point in waiting. She had to contend with this now.

She'd been tucked in her bed, allegedly asleep, when they arrived home last night. In truth, she'd scarcely had time to tear off her clothes, yank on her nightgown, and leap into bed—all the while pleading with Grace not to say a word about their outing—before the sounds of an oncoming carriage heralded her family's arrival.

Grace had glowered at her, vowing to give her until midmorning to tell her parents the truth—after which she herself intended to march into Lord Farrington's study and reveal every detail of what had transpired in his absence. Then, with a piqued sniff, she'd marched out of Noelle's room.

Noelle had lay perfectly still, her eyes tightly shut, when her mother tiptoed in, smoothed a gentle palm over her forehead, then kissed her brow and left. She hadn't even opened her eyes when, an hour later, Chloe peeked into the room, obviously eager to hear about the day.

It was just too soon. She had too much to mull over, too much she needed to sort out herself before she talked with anyone—even her loyal little sister.

But now it was morning. And the moment of reckoning had arrived.

Reaching the sitting-room threshold, Noelle paused, smiling fondly as she spied Chloe perched at the edge of the settee, poised and ready to come to her defense. She could always count on Chloe to be there when she was needed, to offer her support during those infrequent times when Noelle's antics resulted not in their father's exasperation, but in his anger.

That anger never worried Noelle. At worst, it resulted in a harsh reprimand and a far-too-lenient punishment.

But today was different. Today it was his hurt, and not his anger, she feared inciting. And that prospect upset her beyond bearing.

Lord, she'd do anything to avoid causing him pain. But no matter how she phrased her revelation, that's precisely what she was about to do.

Silently, she studied her parents and sister, each one awaiting her arrival with a different aura. Her mother, sitting alongside Chloe, looking as curious and eager as a young girl—the way she always looked when Noelle was about to reveal a secret; glancing at Chloe now and again to see if her younger daughter knew anything more than she'd already disclosed. Chloe, in response, kept her head averted, intently staring at the windows on the far wall of the sitting room. And their father—well, he stalked the length of the room, back and forth, back and forth, resembling an ornery bear about to be goaded beyond restraint.

With a sharp inhalation of breath, Noelle walked into the room. "Good morning."