The Theft (Thornton 2)

"Let's suffice it to say, you'd be doing me a big favor. And our cause, as well. The Bromleighs are generous people. They'll be happy to contribute to helping needy children."

"I agree. They already give liberally within their own parish. Very well, I'll have an invitation sent to Farrington."

"Include the entire family," Ashford reiterated.

Daphne lowered her cup to its saucer, her expression reflective. "The earl has two daughters, has he not?"

"He does."

"The younger, as I recall, is still a child. But the elder one—let's see, she must be…"

"Eighteen," Ashford supplied, meeting his mother's gaze.

"Eighteen? Then I assume she'll soon be making her debut into society."

"You assume correctly. Eric Bromleigh is bringing Noelle out this very Season."

"I see." Daphne traced the rim of her cup with her forefinger. "Does this sudden interest in the Bromleighs have anything to do with the fact that Noelle Bromleigh is Baricci's natural child?"

"Only in that it precipitated our meeting."

"Your meeting?" Daphne's head came up. "You've met Lady Noelle?"

"Um-hum. On the railroad. On her way to the Franco Gallery." Ashford shot his mother a look. "Have I answered all your questions?"

"On the contrary, you've raised entirely new ones."

"I'll put one to rest immediately. Noelle is not connected to Baricci, other than by blood. In fact, prior to a few days ago, she never met the man. Why she suddenly decided to change that, I can merely speculate. I'm first putting the pieces together myself. What I'm hoping is that your charity ball will assist me by affording a few uninterrupted occasions when I might probe the matter with Noelle."

Again, Pierce and Daphne exchanged looks. "Is this interest in Noelle Bromleigh purely professional'?" Pierce asked without further preamble. "If I recall correctly from our visits to Mr. Curran's parish, his great-granddaughter is a lovely young woman."

"She is. Very lovely." Ashford arched a pointed brow. "And if there's anything more about Noelle that requires discussion—other than her blood ties to Baricci—I promise that you two will be the first to hear about it. In the interim, I'd appreciate it if you'd send out that invitation right away."

"It will be done this morning," Daphne assured him.

"Perfect." Anticipation surged through Ashford's veins. "Now I'll go up and fetch the bags of money I got for the Gainsborough. They're rather conspicuous, so I'll transfer them directly into the safe in your bedchamber."

"Good." Pierce nodded his compliance. "Your mother and I will see to the rest." A self-satisfied smile. "Ten thousand pounds will feed a lot of hungry children for an equal number of years. It will also provide them with proper medical care, new clothing, and even an indulgence or two."

"You can distribute the money over a dozen or more of the poorer parishes," Ashford suggested.

"Precisely what I intend. And your contribution is only a portion of what your mother and I will be donating to the needy before month's end. I fully expect we'll raise a huge sum during the course of our house party."

"I presume that means you've invited an abundance of extravagant gamblers?"

Pierce's eyes glinted. "Extravagant, yes. Superior, no. I harbor not a doubt that either you or I will best them all." A pause. "That is, if your conversations with Noelle Bromleigh permit you time at the gaming table."

Ashford's lips twitched. "I think I can find a free moment or two to test my skill. Besides, I have a suspicion I can manage both ventures at once—chatting with Noelle and divesting our guests of their funds." He chuckled, remembering the triumphant expression on Noelle's face when she'd thoroughly beaten him at piquet. "Noelle is quite the avid card player. She'll doubtless be only too eager to join in the sport, especially if the alternative is idle gossip and afternoon tea. Inactivity is definitely not Noelle's forte."

"A woman after my own heart," Daphne commented.

"Indeed," Ashford agreed, half to himself. "Mine as well." Seeing the spark of interest rekindle in his mother's eyes, he swiftly changed the subject. "When is Juliet expected?"

"Next week." Daphne took her son's cue, affording him the privacy he was clearly demanding. "Juliet, Carston, and the children will be sailing from Paris together, then riding directly to Markham."

"Excellent." A warm glow suffused Ashford's heart at the thought of seeing his twin and her family. He'd missed them at the holidays, given they'd spent them with Carston's family in Paris. Somehow Christmas hadn't been the same without Juliet's affectionate banter and her husband Carston's long-standing camaraderie—not to mention their twelve-year-old son Lucas's intelligence and energy, and their seven-year-old daughter Cara's devotion as she glued herself to Ashford's side like a peppermint stick.

"I'd suggest reserving some time for Cara," Daphne advised as if reading her son's mind. "She's stored up quite a bit of adoration during this trip. Every sentence of her