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He raised an eyebrow. ‘Your father and Barbara have remained married all this time?’
‘Yes. I believe she loved him.’
Jack wasn’t so charitable, but he kept his mouth shut.
‘When Barbara retired to her room, the lawyer gave me this letter from my father.’ She rose, removed a letter from her purse and handed it to him. ‘More cake?’
He shook his head and read the letter. Then he folded it up again, tapping it against his knee. ‘He thought she was stealing from him.’
Knowing Roland Fielding, he’d have kept a very tight rein on the purse strings. What kind of debts could his lovely young wife have accrued that would have her risking being caught red-handed with stolen goods?
‘He was wrong. It wasn’t Barbara who was pilfering those bits and pieces. It was Paul.’
‘Paul is still working...?’ He blew out a breath. ‘Shouldn’t he have retired by now?’
She pressed her hands together. ‘My father wasn’t a man who liked change.’
That was the understatement of the year.
‘And, to be fair, I don’t think Paul is either. I suspect the thought of retirement horrifies him.’
The bangle was pushed up her arm and twisted with such force he thought she’d hurt herself.
‘He and Barbara have never warmed to each other.’
‘And you’re telling me this because...?’
‘Because Paul was putting all those things he’d taken—’
‘Stolen,’ he corrected.
‘He was putting them away for me.’
Jack pressed his fingers to his eyes.
‘He was as convinced as I that I’d be totally written out of the will. He thought that I might need them.’
He pulled his hand away. ‘Caro, I—’
She held up a hand and he found himself pulling to a halt.
‘If Barbara finds out why my father wrote her out of the will and that Paul is responsible, she’ll want him charged. I can’t let that happen—surely you can see that, Jack? Paul was doing it for me.’
‘You didn’t ask him to!’
‘That’s beside the point. I know Barbara has been wronged, and I mean to make it up to her. I intend to split the estate with her fifty-fifty.’
He let the air whistle between his teeth. ‘That’s very generous. You could probably buy her silence for a couple of million.’
‘It’s not generous and I don’t want to “buy her silence”! I want her to have half of everything. Half is certainly far more than I ever expected to get, and I’m fairly certain she won’t begrudge me it.’
Was she?
‘Where does the snuffbox come in?’
She hauled in a deep breath. ‘During the middle of the night Barbara removed the jewellery from the safe. As it’s all hers she had every right to remove it.’
He straightened. ‘Except the snuffbox went missing at the same time?’
She nodded. ‘When I asked her about it she claimed to not have seen it.’
‘But you don’t believe her?’
Her fingers started to twist that bangle again. ‘She was upset yesterday—understandably. She wasn’t thinking clearly. I know she wouldn’t do anything to deliberately hurt me, but my father has treated her so very shabbily and I suspect she panicked. I fear she’s painted herself into a corner and now doesn’t know how to return the snuffbox while still maintaining face.’
‘And you want me to recover said snuffbox without her being aware of it?’
‘Yes, please.’
It should be a piece of cake. ‘What happens if the snuffbox isn’t restored to Richardson’s?’
‘I’ll lose my job.’ She let out a long, slow breath. ‘I’ll never work in the industry again.’
He suddenly saw what she meant by revenge. Her job had been more important to her than starting a family with him. Now he had the potential to help destroy all the credibility she’d worked so hard to gain in one fell swoop. The irony!
‘Worse than that, though...’
He lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. ‘Worse than you losing your job?’
Her gaze didn’t waver. ‘Richardson’s prides itself on its honesty and transparency. If I don’t return that snuffbox there will be a police investigation.’
‘The scandal would be shocking,’ he agreed.
‘For heaven’s sake, Jack—who cares about the scandal?’ She shot to her feet, hands on hips. ‘Barbara does not deserve to go to jail for this. And Paul doesn’t deserve to get into trouble either.’
They were both thieves!
‘This mess is of my father’s making. He forces people into impossible situations and makes them desperate. I won’t let that happen this time around. I won’t!’ She pulled in a breath and met his gaze squarely. ‘I mean to make this right, Jack. Will you help me?’
He stared at her. This woman had dashed all his most tightly held dreams. Five years ago she’d ground them underfoot as if they hadn’t mattered one iota. The remembered pain could still make him wake up in a lather of sweat in the middle of the night.
He opened his mouth.
His shoulders slumped.
‘Yes.’
Since when had he ever been able to say no to this woman?
* * *
Caro tiptoed past the disused pantry, and the butler’s and housekeeper’s offices—both of which had been vacant for as long as she could remember. The kitchen stretched all along the other side of these old rooms, with the small sitting room Paul used as his office on the other side of the kitchen. She’d chosen this route so as to not disturb him, but she tiptoed just the same. The man had bat-like hearing.
Lifting the latch on the back door, she stepped out into the darkness of the garden, just as she’d promised Jack she would. She glanced around, wondering in what corner he lurked and watched her from. Feigning indifference, she lifted her head and gazed up at the night sky, but if there were any stars to be seen they were currently obscured by low cloud.
She knew from past experience, though, that one rarely saw stars here—the city lights kept the stars at bay and, as her father had always told her, star-gazing never got anybody anywhere in life.
‘Tell that to astronomers and astronauts,’ she murmured under her breath.
‘Miss Caroline?’
Paul appeared in the kitchen doorway. Caro wiped suddenly damp palms down her skirt. No one was supposed to see her out here.
‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.’
She turned towards him. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything I can help you with?’
‘Certainly not.’
In his youth, Paul had trained as a chef. With the help of an army of maids, who came in twice a week, Paul had kept this house running single-handed for nearly thirty years. Although, as her father had rarely entertained, the position hadn’t been a demanding one.
When she was a child she’d spent most of the year away at boarding school. So for nearly fifteen years—before her father had married Barbara—it had just been her father and Paul rattling around together in this big old house.
Some sixth sense—a hyper-awareness that flashed an odd tingling warmth across her skin—informed her that Jack stood in the shadows of a large rhododendron bush to her left. It took all her strength not to turn towards it. She’d wanted to let Paul in on their plan—his help would have been invaluable, and for a start she wouldn’t be tiptoeing through the house in the dark, unlatching doors—but Jack had sworn her to secrecy.
And as he happened to be the surveillance expert...
She reached Paul’s side and drew him to the right, away from Jack, pointing up at the steepled roofline. ‘Did you know that one night, when I was ten, I walked all the way along that roofline?’
Paul glanced up and pressed a hand to his chest. ‘Good grief!’
‘I’d read a book about a cat burglar who’d made his way across London by jumping from roof to roof.’
‘Tell me you didn’t?’ Paul groaned.
She laughed. From the corner of her eye she saw a shadow slip through the door. ‘Mrs Thomas-Fraser’s Alsatian dog started up such a racket that I hightailed it back to my room before the alarm could be raised.’
‘You could’ve fallen! If I’d know about that back then it would have taken ten years off my life.’
Caro shook her head. ‘I can hardly believe now that I ever dared such a thing. Seriously, Paul, who’d have children?’
He chuckled and patted her shoulder. ‘You were a delight.’
To Paul, perhaps, but never to her father.
‘Come along.’ He drew her into the house. ‘You’ll catch a chill if you’re not careful.’
She wanted to laugh. A chill? It was summer! He was such a fusspot.
‘I don’t suppose I could talk you into joining Barbara and I for dinner?’
‘You suppose right. It wouldn’t be seemly.’
Seriously—he belonged in an England of a bygone age. ‘Oh, I should go and lock the other door.’
‘I’ll take care of it.’
To insist would raise his suspicions. ‘Paul, do we have any headache tablets?’
He pointed to a cupboard.
When he’d gone, she popped two tablets and unlatched the kitchen door—just in case. This sneaking around business was not for the faint-hearted.
* * *
Barbara sliced into her fillet of sole. ‘Caroline, do I need to remind you that if your father had wanted me to inherit any portion of his estate, he’d have named me in his will?’
Caro swallowed. ‘You only call me Caroline when you’re cross with me.’
Barbara’s gaze lifted.
‘I didn’t know he was going to do this, Barbara. I swear. I wish he’d left it all to you.’
Her stepmother’s gaze lowered. She fiddled with the napkin in her lap.
‘And if he had left it all to you,’ Caro continued, ‘I know you’d have made sure that I received a portion of it.’
‘Of course—but that’s different.’
‘How?’
‘This money has been in your family for generations. It’s your birthright.’
Twaddle. ‘I mean to give Paul a generous legacy too. He’ll need a pension to see him through retirement.’
‘That man’s a rogue. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t weaselled enough bonuses out of your father over the years to see him through two retirements.’
‘Even if he has, he’ll have earned every penny.’
The other woman’s gaze narrowed. ‘You and your father—you never could find any common ground. You didn’t understand each other. You never brought out the best in him. And—you’ll have to forgive me for saying this, Caro, darling—you were never at your best when you were around him either.’
Caro opened her mouth to dispute that, then shot her stepmother a half smile. How could Barbara still defend him after he’d treated her so shabbily? ‘Okay, I’ll concede that point.’
Where was Jack at this very moment? Was he in Barbara’s room, scanning its every hiding place? Had he found the snuffbox yet?
The thought of Jack prowling about upstairs filled her with the oddest adrenaline rush—similar to the one she’d had as a ten-year-old, when she’d inched across the mansion’s roof. It made her realise how boring her life had become.
Not boring! Predictable.
