The Wrong Girl

Chapter 12

"There you both are!" Sylvia said as Jack and I entered the house via the courtyard. "I've been looking for you. Were you in those horrible old ruins again?"

"I thought you liked the ruins," I said. "You've certainly painted them often enough."

"Only because there is little else to paint hereabouts. It's depressingly cold and damp in winter. I suppose that's why you like it."

"It does have a certain appeal," Jack said, absently. He seemed eager to get away, but I could see that she needed to talk about something.

"Is everything all right?" I asked.

"Yes. No. That is, I wanted to apologize to you, Hannah."

"Me? Why?"

"Because when it was revealed that you weren't Lady Violet, my reaction may have made it seem as if I were..."

"Disgusted?" Jack offered, crossing his arms and lifting one eyebrow.

"I was shocked," she said. "Why are you smirking at me like that, Jack? This is between Hannah and me."

"Anything that concerns Hannah also concerns me." He leaned down so that he was nose to nose with her. "And I just wanted to see how you'd get out of this with your polite façade intact. I seem to recall you having a similar reaction when August took me in. You never apologized to me for being...shocked."

"Then you recall incorrectly." She sniffed. When he smiled, she shoved his shoulder. "Go away. Haven't you got better things to do than torment me?"

"As a matter of fact, we do."

"We're going to speak to your uncle and get some answers." I grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. I wanted her to know I appreciated her seeking me out to apologize. It meant more than she would ever know. "Would you like to come?"

"Not particularly," she said. But when Jack and I walked off, she followed.

Jack went to barge past Bollard as he opened his uncle's door. The servant put out his arm to stop him, but Jack simply squared up to him, smiled, and politely said, "Move, or I'll set your shirt on fire."

"Let them in," Langley said with a frustrated sigh. "What is it, Jack? I thought we already discussed the rebuilding arrangements."

"Is that where you went this morning?" Sylvia asked.

Jack nodded. "I've contracted a builder from the village. He's going to work off the original plans for Frakingham and replicate the destroyed section."

She pulled a face. "Perhaps he could make it a little less Gothic. Arches and gloom are out of fashion."

"That's not why we're here," Jack said to Langley. "We need to talk about what Patrick said."

Langley must have had a spare wheelchair stored somewhere because he sat in another, smaller one, the first no doubt having been reduced to ashes. He had wheeled around to face us when we entered, but now he turned away. "It's none of your business."

"It bloody well is!" Jack grasped the handles of the chair and pulled it around so that his uncle faced him. Langley's nostrils flared, but his gaze didn't flicker as he glared back at his nephew. "Who is the one-armed man?" Jack ground out. "Who hired Patrick to burgle you?"

"It's all in hand—"

"Tell us!"

Langley folded his hands in his lap. "I appreciate your concern for me—"

"I don't want to pursue this for you." Jack straightened and closed his fists at his sides, but not before I saw the glow of his fingers. He was furious, but controlling it. Barely. "I want to get to the bottom of this for Hannah's sake. The theft may have something to do with her abduction."