"Good morning, Noelle," Ashford murmured in that deep, mesmerizing voice of his. "It's a pleasure to see you again." He nodded politely at Grace. "And you as well, madam."
"Lord Tremlett," the maid returned curtly.
"I've spoken with Lord Farrington," Ashford continued, still addressing Grace. "And he's agreed to let me speak with your mistress alone. I'm sure you understand."
Grace started, her double chin rippling from the motion. "Pardon me? Are you suggesting I leave Lady Noelle and you in this sitting room unchaperoned?"
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting." Ashford gestured politely towards the door. "You're welcome to confirm what I've told you with Lord Farrington. You'll find him in the library."
"I most certainly intend to." Gathering up her voluminous skirts, Grace marched out of the sitting room, nearly knocking Bladewell down in the process.
Noelle stifled a giggle. "Thank you, Bladewell," she told the bewildered butler, who was clutching the door frame, struggling to regain his balance. "That will be all."
"Very good, Miss Noelle." Composure restored, Bladewell bowed, stepping into the hall and shutting the door in his wake.
Ashford turned back to Noelle, his expression telling her how glad he was that they were alone. "Now, may I request a proper greeting?" he asked, extending his hand to her.
Noelle rose at once, placing her hand in his and allowing him to draw her closer. "Did Papa really agree to—?"
"Yes." Ashford's arms wrapped tightly, possessively, about her. "But not for this." His lips whispered across hers. "Still, it's worth the risk. I need to feel you in my arms. I missed you, tempête. Tell me you missed me, too."
"Oh, Ashford, so much." Noelle twined her arms about his neck, lifting her face to receive his kiss.
His mouth closed over hers, consuming her with prolonged, heated intensity—an intensity as brief as it was ardent.
With great reluctance, Ashford eased away, his knuckles trailing down the side of Noelle's neck, up her hot cheek. "We have to talk. I'm not sure how long your father's patience wil
l last."
"I'm exploding with curiosity," Noelle replied breathlessly. "And I have a million questions."
"I'll answer them all." Guiding her back to the settee, Ashford drew her down beside him. "What have your parents told you?"
"Nothing. They're acting very mysterious and very uneasy. They haven't told me anything, other than the fact that you'd be calling on me, that you have things you want to tell me firsthand, and that I might be angry with you over some of those things."
A rueful nod. "You will be. So let's get to those things first. When I asked to see your parents in my father's study, it had nothing to do with finances."
"That much I guessed."
Ashford chuckled. "I assumed you would. What I wanted to see them about was you. Noelle, I told them about Baricci, about Sardo, and about your plan."
Noelle's jaw dropped. "No wonder they're so overwrought with worry! Why would you upset them like that—not to mention ruining any chance of our attempting my plan?"
"I did it out of necessity and fear, not betrayal. Something happened the other night. Something your parents probably haven't allowed you to learn."
Comprehension dawned. "You're referring to Lady Mannering's murder. Mama and Papa tried to keep me from seeing the newspaper. But I read the front page when they weren't looking." Noelle saw her answer in Ashford's eyes. "So you did find out about it while we were at Markham—on the night of the ball, I suspect. And you do think Baricci was involved."
"You're amazing." Ashford seized her hands in his. "Yes. I got word of what had happened during the ball. And, yes, I'm convinced that Baricci was involved. Which changes everything—including the level of danger you'd be exposed to if you continued your association with either Baricci or Sardo."
Noelle sucked in her breath. "You're afraid Baricci would harm me? Ashford, that's absurd. I pose no threat to him…" Her voice trailed off. "Unless I help expose his guilt," she finished quietly. "So what are you suggesting? That I just divorce myself from the entire matter? I can't. What's more, I won't." Her small chin came up. "Tell me this: did you uncover any new information since I left Markham? Are you any closer to exposing Baricci's illegal dealings?"
"No," Ashford answered, frustration tightening his jaw. "The son of a bitch covers his tracks like a true predator. I don't even have any absolute proof that he visited the Mannering house on the night of the theft, much less that he stole the Rembrandt or killed Emily Mannering."
"Then how do you propose to incriminate him?" Noelle demanded. "Don't you see that other than his having committed a more severe, more horrible crime, nothing has changed? My plan is still our best hope of unmasking Baricci for the scoundrel he is."
"I agree."
On the verge of launching into her next argument, Noelle halted, her mouth snapping shut. "You agree?"