They came to an abrupt halt outside Honora’s front door. The house lay in darkness. Ava strained to listen, though no sounds of distress emanated from within. It did not bode well. Despite all that Jonathan had done to save her from Mr Fairfax, she could not forgive him this.
“Ready?” Valentine’s hand settled on the doorknob.
“Ready.”
He turned the knob gently, used two hands to prise the door from the jamb. The hinges creaked. Valentine paused, then he ushered Ava across the threshold and closed the door behind them.
Valentine slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “We will start by checking the drawing room,” he whispered, his mouth pressed to her ear. “That’s where Honora keeps the gold goblet she uses to store the ruby.”
Ava nodded.
Perhaps he was aware of her trembling legs, of her clammy hands and racing heart. “The truth serves us better than falsehoods,” he said before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.
They approached the drawing room door, but the faint hum of conversation drew them farther along the hall to another principal room, a more relaxed space Honora used to entertain friends.
The deep reverberating tones of a masculine voice mingled with the quiet yet confident voice of the mistress.
Relief settled in Ava’s chest as she listened to the incoherent mutterings of their conversation. She touched Valentine’s arm. Touching him brought comfort. Touching him gave her the strength to deal with her troubles.
“They sound calm,” she whispered, “not at all agitated. Perhaps there is an innocent explanation.”
Valentine frowned. ?
?Whatever brings him here, I suspect it involves a certain amount of deception.”
He had a point.
Ava noted the tension radiating from the man she loved. How she hoped it was not something to make him doubt his mother’s love and loyalty.
In a sudden move, Valentine opened the door and strode into the dimly lit room.
Ava followed.
The couple seated on the chintz-covered couch jumped in shock. Jonathan almost choked on his port while Honora placed her sherry on the side table and came to her feet.
“Lucius, what a pleasant surprise.” There was an uncharacteristic tremble in Honora’s voice that belied her look of innocence. “What on earth are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” Her gaze dropped to the scratch on her son’s cheek. When she glanced at Ava, a satisfied smile formed.
Valentine cast Jonathan a hard stare and her brother shuffled uncomfortably in the seat.
“What am I doing here?” Valentine said, his tone full of reproach. “I might ask the same of Mr Kendall.”
“Me? I came to call on my sister, and was worried to find her house empty,” Jonathan explained. So worried, he could not look his sister in the eye. “She was not there when I called yesterday, either.”
“And so you let yourself into my mother’s house at almost three in the morning,” Valentine said, avoiding the question of Ava’s whereabouts, “and she happened to be up and dressed and waiting to greet you.”
Honora chuckled. “Surely you don’t suspect us of conducting a liaison. Mr Kendall is young enough to be my son.”
“Of course not,” Valentine snapped. “Should you partake in a romantic relationship I hope the gentleman might possess a modicum of intelligence.”
“Now listen here,” Jonathan began though struggled to appear affronted.
“That is exactly what I intend to do,” Valentine retorted. “I will listen while you tell me what the hell you’re doing here. Since when do people make house calls in the middle of the night?”
Jonathan raised his chin. “A more pressing question might be why the two of you are together at such an hour.”
Honora approached her son with outstretched arms and drew him into an embrace. “Come. Sit with us. Share a drink and let us speak about this like mature adults. There is much to discuss.”
Ava glanced at Valentine. “We should take a drink. It has been a long night.” And a rather exhausting one to boot. She smiled at Honora. “We attended Mr Drake’s dinner party where Mr Cassiel provided the entertainment, hence the lateness of the hour.”