As the four of them moved out of the way to give the staff room to work on taking the portrait down, the Duke of Thistlewayte strode into the hall to join them.
Edward cut a sideways glance at his father and arched an eyebrow at him.
“Did you know about this, that grandfather had set up a treasure hunt for all of us?”
The Duke shrugged, smiling at his eldest son and daughter.
“I suspected that he might have done something like this, since he did something similar with me and my siblings.”
Lady Eugenia immediately went hands-on-hips, narrowing her eyes at her father.
“Then why did you not tell us about the treasure hunt, or at the very least give us a hint, or nudge us in the right direction? Honestly, father, we might never have found the letter to start the treasure hunt if not for Marjory and Millicent being absolute hellions and terrorising poor Georgiana!”
“Half the fun, my sweet girl, is uncovering the treasure hunt for yourself. Telling you what your grandfather had planned for you might very well have ruined the thrill of the hunt for you all.”
The Duke chuckled, offering Edward and Eugenia a wink.
“It would not, but I suppose a poor excuse is better than none at all, Papa.”
Lady Eugenia rolled her eyes, but was unable to hide the smile which tugged at the corners of her mouth.
The Duke opened his mouth, perhaps to continue the volley of good-natured teasing, but he was interrupted by Williams directing the footmen who were taking the portrait off the wall.
“Carefully now! Turn it around so that Lord Billington may examine the back of the painting.”
Susan’s breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened with excitement. Would her deduction be correct? Would they find the promised clue for the treasure hunt?
Edward rushed forward to examine the back of the framed painting. Susan, Georgiana, and Lady Eugenia were right on his heels, peering over his shoulder at the portrait’s back.
“Well?” Lady Eugenia gasped, barely containing her excitement. “What have we discovered, brother?”
Edward shook his head, and the tightness in Susan’s chest became painful, squeezing her heart, and making it difficult for her to breathe.
“There’s nothing here.”
Edward’s shoulders drooped, and Susan groaned.
“I’m so sorry,” Susan murmured. “I really thought I was onto something with that last part of the riddle.”
“Don’t feel badly, Miss Wingfield. It was a brilliant thought, I am sure. And there is one more thing I am sure of, as well.”
Lady Eugenia’s voice was kind and warm as she patted Susan on the shoulder.
“You are too kind, Lady Eugenia.” Susan forced a wavering smile. “I feel so foolish for thinking I’d worked out one of the clues in the riddle so easily.”
Lady Eugenia looped an arm through Susan’s, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.
“Take heart, Miss Wingfield, for I know something which may very well lift your spirits. I do not believe that you were wrong in thinking that there might be a clue hidden on the back of a portrait of our grandfather, and I happen to know that this portrait is not the only portrait of him which hangs in a home in London.”
Edward clapped once and pointed at his sister.
“Of course! Eugenia is quite right. We have no less than three properties here in London, besides Billington House, and all of them contain extensive portraiture of our ancestors. We should check every property for portraits of Grandfather, and check the backs of them for clues.”
“This is all terribly exciting.” Lady Eugenia suppressed a squeal and squeezed Susan’s arm again. “You simply must come with us and help us look, Miss Wingfield!”
Susan was opening her mouth to agree that she would, indeed, be glad to join them in searching the other Calthorpe properties in London for the promised clue when a loud, authoritative knocking sounded at Billington House’s front door.
Edward and Lady Eugenia exchanged a look, each with raised brows, as if they wondered who on Earth could be knocking on the door when almost all of the most important people in their lives were already gathered together at Billington House for the reading of their grandfather’s letter.
A footman opened the door and Susan’s heart stuttered. A uniformed Bow Street Runner — dressed in a black top hat, black jacket, and scarlet waistcoat — stood in the open doorway, waiting to be invited inside. The man nodded to the footman who’d opened the door and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but promptly snapped it shut again when he saw the small crowd of people gathered in the front hall.
“How may I assist you?”
The footman prompted, pulling the man’s attention back to the present.
The blonde, sharp-eyed man standing on the front step bowed, and gave the footman an appreciative nod.
“Bow Street Runners. I’m here to see a Miss Wingfield on private business.”
Susan’s mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard, trying to clear the sensation, even as her heart started beating impossibly fast. She gently disentangled her arm from Lady Eugenia’s and took a half-step forward, inclining her head at the Bow Street Runner before lifting her gaze to meet his.
“I am Miss Wingfield.”
* * *
Marco D’Asti pacedin his study just across the street from Billington House. If he were not so utterly engrossed in the contents of the letter clutched in his white-knuckled grip, he might have looked out of the window and spotted that one of the Bow Street Runners stood on the doorstep across the street. As it was, the letter consumed every bit of his attention and left him tugging at his cravat, thinking that it suddenly felt quite a lot like an ever-tightening noose around his neck.