“Alicia and Gabe very likely suspect we’re on to them,” Joe said, shooting another brief glance in Lydia’s direction. “We’re better off confronting them before they can come up with a buyer for the Ghost.”
“That makes sense,” her mother said.
Joe gave the driver an address in a much less ritzy part of Rome. Which also made sense, Lydia realized. Gabe had protested on the phone to his mother that he was entitled to some of the wealth that had been bestowed on his cousins and denied to him. She knew her mother and her aunt had been in dire financial straits before Bull Benedict had come along. She had no idea whether her mother had provided financial support to the sister from whom she’d been estranged all these years.
“Is there any chance weapons are going to be involved in this confrontation?” Joe asked.
Lydia noticed that both of her parents, who were sitting beside each other across from her, looked startled. The fact that they were in the same car was a miracle in itself. To her amazement, her mother reached out a hand to her father, who took it in his and covered it reassuringly with his other hand.
Lydia’s stomach knotted. This harmonious picture was too good to be true. She wondered how long it would last—and how rancorous the argument would be that separated them again.
“I don’t believe Alicia will have a gun with her, if that’s what you mean,” her mother replied. “I’m not as sure about Gabe.”
Joe focused his gaze on Bella and said, “Gabe, at least, was willing to drug and kidnap your daughter to acquire the Ghost. What makes you think he’ll just give it back to you?” He turned his attention to Bull and asked, “Are you planning to pay the ransom? Or part of the ransom?”
“Hell, no!” Bull replied. “Those two will be lucky if I don’t have them slapped in jail.”
Joe was silent for a moment, then said, “First, you’d have to prove that they stole the Ghost. Right now, we don’t have a clue where it is. All the two of them have to do is say they didn’t steal it, and we don’t have a shred of evidence to contradict them.” He lifted a skeptical brow. “So what makes you think they’ll give up the Ghost without a fight?”
“What happens if we pay them to get it back?” her mother asked.
“That’s not an option,” her father interjected. “It would only encourage them to do something like this again. Or to hire someone to do it for them, since they’d be first on our list of suspects.”
Her mother turned to Joe and said, “I presume your sister had some sort of plan when she asked me and Bull to come here, some reason to believe that our presence would convince Alicia and Gabe to return the necklace.”
Joe shook his head. “I have no idea what Sam was thinking, ma’am. I’m just telling you what I would do if I were the thieves in this situation.”
“Maybe we should call your sister,” Lydia suggested. “Maybe there’s some information she has that we don’t.”
Joe responded by pulling out his phone and making the call.
His sister answered the phone with the words, “Have I been fired yet?”
Joe shot a sardonic look at Lydia’s mother, then said “You’re on speakerphone, Sam. I’m here with Bull and the Duchess and Lydia.”
There was an awful—Oh, my God, what have I done?—silence before Sam said, “Hello, everyone.”
As an afterthought, Joe added, “Oh, and the Duchess’s assistant is here, too.”
Lydia suddenly realized that Emily must often be overlooked. Right now, her mother’s assistant was staring out the window in an apparent effort not to intrude in a situation from which she couldn’t physically remove herself.
“I’m sorry I had to lie to you, Duchess,” Sam said. She continued in a single breath, “But my father disappeared from his boat off the coast of Greece two years ago, and I’ve finally found a lead. I needed the work you provided to finance my trip to Greece to follow that lead.”
“We will discuss your future employment at another time, young lady,” the Duchess said briskly. “Right now, I’m wondering if you have some plan in mind for retrieving the Ghost that’s more involved than simply having Bull and me confront Alicia and Gabe. Your brother has pointed out that we have no proof they took the necklace.”
“Actually,” Sam began, “there is proof—in the form of emails between Gabe and potential buyers. However, I presume you don’t want to resolve this issue in court.”
Bella exchanged a glance with Bull, who replied, “You’re correct. We’d rather keep this private.”
“I believe this particular theft was a crime of opportunity on Gabe’s part,” Sam continued. “However, Alicia and Gabe, as a team, have been stealing jewels at charity events and selling them throughout Europe and South America for several years.”
Lydia gasped in surprise. “They’re actually jewel thieves?”
“I’m afraid so,” Sam said.
“How do you know?” Lydia demanded. “How can you be sure?”
“It’s what I do,” Sam replied with alacrity.
Lydia looked at her mother, who was shaking her head in what Lydia thought might be despair. It must be awful to have a sister who’d sunk so low, even if you’d cut all ties with her years ago. But maybe it was cutting those ties that had contributed to the situation in which Aunt Alicia found herself. Could her mother possibly be blaming herself for any of this?
“So what lever are we supposed to use on those two so they’ll return the Ghost?” Bella asked at last.
“Even the threat of exposing them as the thieves who took the Ghost would put them under scrutiny for a lot of jewel thefts in the past. It would also be likely to prevent them from continuing to steal without becoming suspects in future robberies. That’s why I believe that simply letting them know that you know what they’ve been up to will cause them to cough up the necklace.”
“That could work,” Bella mused, exchanging a glance with Bull.
“There’s one other thing you should know,” Sam said.
“What’s that?” Bella asked.
“Alicia didn’t have anything to do with stealing the Ghost. It was all Gabe’s idea. The instant she realized what Gabe had done, she tried to get him to return the necklace. I believe that, if they’re confronted together, she will put pressure on her son to return the necklace.”
“So they return the Ghost and then just walk away without any consequences for what Gabe did to me?” Lydia asked. “Not to mention any recompense to the owners of all the jewels they’ve stolen in the past—and with nothing to keep them from continuing to steal in the future?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Sam admitted. “Unless you want to make a Federal case out of it. Make that an Interpol case,” she amended.
“Some of this may be my fault,” the Duchess said. “I should have made amends with Alicia long before this.” She squeezed Bull’s hand. “We certainly have to the means to ease her lot. It’s just that . . . I haven’t been able . . . to forgive her for . . .”
As Lydia watched, her mother gripped her father’s hand tighter. Her eyes were bright with tears, and she was having trouble catching her breath.
Bull put an arm around her shoulders and asked anxiously, “Bella? Are you all right?”
“Emily,” the Duchess said, still breathing erratically. “My pills.”
Lydia’s gaze shot to Emily, who was reaching into her small clutch. She pulled out a prescription bottle of pills, poured two into her palm, and held them out to Bella.
Bull had already poured sparkling water from a bottle he’d taken from the limousine bar into a glass and handed it to Bella.
Lydia’s heart was in her throat as she watched her mother swallow the pills and then hand the crystal glass back to her father. She wanted to ask if her mother was sick, but the answer seemed obvious. Yes. She was. But what, exactly, was wrong with her?
It felt to Lydia as though everyone in the car held their collective breaths, waiting for Bella’s ragged breathing to return to
normal. At last, she took a deeper breath, and then another, and finally she was breathing normally again.
Lydia exhaled the breath she’d been holding in a whoosh of relief.
“Thank God,” her father muttered under his breath. And then, from between clenched teeth, he said, “Don’t tell me this is another panic attack. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Lydia stared at her father in confusion. Panic attack? She turned her gaze to her mother to see how she would answer.
“There’s nothing wrong—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit!” her father interrupted. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Bella breathing was already more erratic as she answered, “I’m recovering . . . from the flu.”
Bull grabbed her by the arms. “By God, Bella, if you don’t—”
“It’s her heart.”
The words silenced Bull, who turned to stare at their source—her mother’s nearly-forgotten assistant.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Emily said. “Your condition is too fragile for such behavior.”
Bull let go of Bella as though she’d caught fire. “I would never harm my wife.”
“But you might kill her if you agitate her further,” Emily said in a calm voice.
Her father frowned in consternation. “Bella? What is she talking about? What’s wrong with you?”
Her mother took a halting breath and let it out. “I didn’t want you to know. Not yet.”
“Know what?” her father demanded.
“My heart is . . . damaged.”
Lydia stared at her mother, her heart in her throat. “How did this happen? Can it be fixed?”
“Skiing accident,” her mother replied. “My heart works fine . . . with medication. I just have to take care of myself.”
“If a little argument with me upsets you this much, and causes you this much discomfort, how the hell were you planning to stay calm enough to talk Alicia into returning the Ghost?” Bull said angrily.
“I don’t intend to let Alicia provoke me,” Bella said with a smile.
“What doctors have you seen?” Bull asked.
“I’ve seen the best doctors to be found,” Bella said. “Please, Bull. I don’t want to discuss this. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
“Are you dying?” Lydia hadn’t meant to blurt the question, but she wanted to know just how sick her mother was.
Her mother’s smile widened. “Of course not! I just have to take my medication and take it easy.”
“Are you sure you should talk to Aunt Alicia?” Lydia asked. “What if she starts shouting at you? What if she makes a terrible scene?”
Bella made a tsking sound and looked from Lydia to Bull and back to Lydia again. “This is why I didn’t want anyone to know about my heart being injured. I’m not an invalid. Please don’t treat me like one.”
Lydia shot a look at Emily to see whether her mother’s assistant agreed with Bella’s assessment of her heart condition, but Emily was staring out the window. Lydia felt Joe squeeze her hand and wondered when she’d reached out to him. She felt cold inside, and the warmth of his hand was reassuring.
This situation was all her fault. If she hadn’t borrowed the Ghost without permission, it would be safe in the vault at Blackthorne Abbey right now. Her mother wouldn’t be risking her life—or at least the possibility of a heart attack—in order to get it back. Lydia felt horribly guilty. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to the Duchess.
As of today, Lydia vowed, she was turning over a new leaf. She was going to grow up and act responsibly, instead of like a selfish child. That meant not playing around with Joe Warren. She eased her fingers free of his grasp. He gave her a questioning look but let her go.
Lydia felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to say goodbye to Joe. But if she was going to do the grownup thing, she had to start treating him like the “body in place” he’d said he was, nothing more, nothing less. She eased her thigh away from the heat of his, smoothing her skirt down along her leg to separate them more completely.
She felt him stiffen beside her and knew he was aware of her withdrawal.
Before he could speak, the driver announced, “We’re here.”
Chapter Seventeen
Joe was pretty sure the Duchess was lying about the severity of her heart condition. Before her assistant had passed her those pills, her complexion had turned a pasty gray—a clear sign that her heart wasn’t providing enough oxygen to keep her alive. He wasn’t surprised that Lydia and her father had swallowed the lie. That was easier than believing that the life of such a vibrant mother and wife might be cut short.
More troubling to him was the way Lydia had separated herself so completely from him. When she’d reached for his hand, he’d been more than glad to provide comfort. He wondered if she’d suddenly realized that she was holding his hand in full view of her parents, or whether there was some other reason she’d pulled away.
Once Joe was out of the limo, he held out a hand to Lydia, but she avoided his offer of help and got out on her own. He frowned and followed her up the steps to the front door of the hotel.
“Which room?” Bull asked Joe as he escorted Bella and her assistant inside.
“She’s on the first floor,” Joe replied. “Room 110.”
When they reached the room, Bull knocked loudly on the door. When it remained unanswered, he called out, “Alicia, we know you’re in there. Open the damn door!”
Joe was surprised at how frazzled Alicia looked as she released the chain and opened the door.
She said, “Come in,” and stepped back to allow everyone to enter, letting the door slide closed behind them. She hadn’t changed out of her ballgown, but she’d let her hair down. Joe thought it made her look a lot more like the Duchess.
Joe looked immediately for Gabe and spied him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. A gentleman would have risen at the entrance of two ladies, one of whom was his aunt, but Gabe gripped the arms of the upholstered chair as though it—or he—might fly away if he let go.
Joe was instantly wary, recognizing the signs of suppressed rage in Gabe’s tightly clenched jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. He put himself between Gabe and the women while he waited for whatever came next.
“You know why we’re here?” the Duchess said to her sister.
Alicia nodded abruptly without admitting anything.
Bull was more direct. He turned to Gabe and said, “The jig is up, boy. Hand it over. Now.”
Gabe’s eyes looked wild, and he hunkered into the chair like a treed wildcat, his fingernails digging into the chair like claws, as he growled, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Alicia made a dying sound in her throat. “Give him the necklace, Gabe. Please.”
“I want it back,” Lydia said, crossing past Joe before he could catch her and holding out a waiting hand under her cousin’s nose.
“Go away, brat,” Gabe said.
Joe saw Lydia draw back as though she’d been slapped. She hadn’t expected to be called “brat.” It sounded like something her brothers—and her cousin—might have said to get rid of her when she was a kid who wanted to join in. Joe caught her around the waist as she reached out to grab a handful of Gabe’s hair. “Whoa, there!”
She turned on Joe as though he were the villain, pounding on the arm that held her captive. “Let me go!”
“Settle down,” he said in the commanding voice he’d used as a soldier when he gave an order he expected to be obeyed.
It didn’t work on Lydia. “Put me down,” she insisted, kicking him in his bad leg.
Joe grunted at the pain, which seared its way from his knee downward through his devastated calf.
Lydia froze for a moment and looked up at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Joe hadn’t realized he’d lifted her completely off the floor, but it felt like his bad leg was ready to collapse, so he set her on her f
eet. She turned within the stricture of his arm, put her hands on his chest, and said, “I’m so sorry. But you shouldn’t have tried to stop me.”
“I wasn’t sure what he might do,” Joe said through teeth clenched against the pain. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Gabe suddenly rose from his chair and faced the crowd like a trapped animal, desperate to escape. He focused his anger on Bull and said, “I deserve more than you’ve given me. I should have—”
“Gabe, no!” Alicia cried. “Don’t, please. I beg you.”
Joe felt Lydia freeze in his grasp as she directed her attention toward the play being enacted before her.
Joe watched as Gabe visibly gathered his composure. Alicia’s son shot a nasty look at Bull, who frowned, then looked at Alicia, and paled. So. It was true. Bull just might be the boy’s father. For some reason, Alicia didn’t want the truth out in the open. All of them had backed off rather than confront the potentially life-altering issue.
Gabe slowly reached inside his tux pants pocket and pulled out a black velvet bag, which he tossed at Lydia. Joe caught it before it could strike her in the head and then dropped it into her outstretched hand.
“Why, you—” Bull began, when it seemed apparent that Gabe had meant to hit Lydia with the necklace.
Bella caught his arm to keep him from throwing a punch and said, “No, Bull. We have the necklace. That’s enough.”
“Is that what’s in the bag?” Joe asked. He wouldn’t have put it past Gabe to put something else in there.
Lydia quickly opened the drawstring and withdrew the Ghost.
Joe was hard-pressed to keep from gasping at the array of sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds that sparkled around the enormous drop pearl. He’d never seen anything so beautiful—or so priceless—not counting the flesh-and-blood woman in his arms.
Lydia left his embrace and crossed the room to hand the necklace to her mother. “Here it is, Mother. I’m so sorry I took it without asking.”
“Are you sure it isn’t paste?” Joe asked, still unsure to what lengths Gabe might be willing to go to steal the Ghost.
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