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R osalyn tilted her head, looking at one of the paintings on the wall next to the space where the missing painting ought to be.

She had never truly appreciated art, and thus, these meant very little to her.

Yes, she could admire their beauty, but she could not tell one artist’s stroke from another.

Nor could she understand the desire to have one particular artwork.

To her, they were all very nice and some very beautiful, but she did not have any great sense of passion for them.

“You are not thinking of stealing one of these paintings, are you?”

A light shiver ran over her skin as she turned to look up at Lord Waverley. “No, I was not thinking of it.” Aware that they had only very recently almost stepped forward into a new part of their connection, Rosalyn gently touched his hand. “We have a conversation to finish, do we not?”

A light flush touched Lord Waverley’s throat, rising up quickly into his face. “You are bolder than I, Rosalyn.”

A sudden concern lurched in her throat, and she made to step back, only for him to catch her hand tightly.

“I meant only that I wanted very much to speak with you about these things, but thus far, I have not found the right words. It has been three days since that conversation, and I have said nothing!” A glimmer of frustration flashed in his eyes, his lips thinning for a moment as he looked away, only to press her hand again.

“Rosalyn, I want very much to speak with you, for there is a good deal more for me to say. Though how can we do so when there is always someone present?”

Hearing voices approaching the hallway, Rosalyn sighed and took her hand from his.

“Mayhap, once we have determined the truth about the painting, we will be able to speak. My brother might… ” Trailing off, a frown tugged at her forehead as she remembered one or two things that her brother had said to her previously, things that had not made sense.

Could it be that he had recognized what was in her heart for Lord Waverley before she had done?

“Rosalyn?”

A sudden, bright smile touched her lips as she looked back up at him. “I am sure that, should I ask my brother, he will give us a few minutes to speak alone. In fact, I think he might even encourage it!”

There was no time for her to give him any further explanation, for the other bluestocking soon came into the hallway, followed by her brother and Lord Albury.

They were all to gather together to discuss the matter of the painting and to ascertain how Lord Coates – or whoever the guilty party was – had removed the painting from the house.

It was late in the evening, but the other bluestockings had been permitted to come since the occasion was only a small gathering of familiar friends, for which Rosalyn was grateful.

She needed them all here this evening. The mystery had to be solved.

“So, shall we begin?” she asked, as her friends drew near.

“Lord Waverley, as we know, was in the kitchen and then waylaid by someone who took him to the library. If we go to where the other gentlemen were, then mayhap my brother or Lord Waverley might remember another detail, or we will be able to ascertain when the painting itself might have been taken.”

“And how it was taken out of the house,” Lord Waverley added, as the other bluestockings nodded. “This way, if you please.”

He led them towards the drawing room, pointing to where the dining room was also.

“Shall you and I be Lord Whittaker and Lord Raleigh, my love?” Lord Albury asked, grinning broadly at Miss Trentworth. “We must be in the dining room, yes?”

Miss Trentworth laughed and put her hand on his arm. “Yes, we must.”

“Though might you stay by the door?” Rosalyn asked, seeing Miss Trentworth’s look of love towards her betrothed. “Not because I do not trust you, but because we all must be able to talk to each other about what might have happened next.”

With a nod and a smile, Miss Trentworth and Lord Albury moved away from the group towards the dining room. With a deep breath, Rosalyn looked back at the rest of the bluestockings. “Fairchild, you were present here, yes?”

“Yes, with Lord Coates and Lord Haverstock. And Lord Stockton was in the hallway,” her brother confirmed. “That, I do recall.”

“And Lord Mansfield was also present, about to take his leave,” Lady Isobella interjected. “Is that not so?”

With another word of confirmation, Lady Isobella came to stand in the hallway, pretending to be Lord Stockton. Lady Amelia, Lord Fairchild, and Miss Sherwood walked into the drawing room but stood near the door.

“And I was absent,” Lord Waverley muttered, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “Lord Mansfield was present and – ”

“Then I shall be Lord Mansfield.” Walking into the drawing room, she smiled at her brother.

“Fairchild, might you sit where you were on that evening? And direct Lady Amelia and Miss Sherwood as to where the other two gentlemen were?” Once they had done so, Rosalyn came herself a little further into the room. “Lord Mansfield was present also, yes?”

Her brother nodded. “Yes, he stood in front of the mantlepiece to take his farewell.”

Rosalyn walked to stand in that very place. “I come to bid you farewell, but before I am finished, Lord Stockton comes staggering into the room.” On cue, Lady Isobella stepped in, nodding to Lord Fairchild. “He says he has – ”

“He says he has dropped the decanter and does not know what to do,” her brother interrupted, though Rosalyn did not think he had meant to, given the slightly narrowed look about his eyes.

Clearly, he was doing his best to remember everything that had taken place.

“Lord Coates was nearest to him.” He pointed to Lady Amelia.

“And he begged for his help. Lord Coates rolled his eyes but got to his feet.”

Lady Amelia rose. “If I must help you, then I shall,” she said as though she truly was Lord Coates, following Lady Isobella from the room.

“Then it was only yourself, Lord Mansfield, and Lord Haverstock.” Rosalyn looked keenly at her brother, who nodded. “Then what happened?”

With a scowl, Lord Fairchild shook his head. “I do not recall exactly. Lord Mansfield took his leave thereafter, of that, I am sure.”

Rosalyn walked to the door but did not go through it. “And he saw Lord Coates and Lord Stockton, I presume.”

Lord Waverley shrugged. “Mayhap. I was not present, so I cannot be sure. We could ask the butler to confirm.”

She nodded. “Let us presume that Lord Mansfield walked past Lord Coates and Lord Stockton in the hallway, along with the butler who came to their aid. He quit the room, leaving only yourself, Fairchild, and Lord Haverstock in here alone.”

Her brother snorted. “Lord Haverstock was no good for conversation, I remember that. The moment he sat down, his eyes closed and he fell asleep!”

Rosalyn’s eyebrows lifted. “You remember that?”

“I… I do.” He blinked, then frowned. “I was hopeful for some better conversation, but Lord Stockton was much too in his cups! At that juncture, I decided to pour another drink for myself and… well, the rest is nothing more than a blur.”

Considering this, Rosalyn frowned, the quietness in the room helped her think. Thinking quickly, she tried to close her eyes and thought about where everyone was the moment Lord Mansfield had quit the room, only for her eyes to fly open as a breath caught in her throat.

Lord Waverley was beside her at once. “What? What is it?”

“Lord Coates.” Hurrying forward, Rosalyn looked straight into her brother’s eyes. “You did not mention Lord Coates. You said only that Lord Haverstock and Lord Stockton were not good company, for Lord Haverstock fell asleep, and Lord Stockton was too overcome with liquor. So what of Lord Coates?”

Her brother frowned. “I – I do not recall.”

Rosalyn’s heart slammed hard against her ribs. “Does this mean, then, that when Lord Coates quit the room to help Lord Stockton, he did not immediately return?”

“He must have returned at some point, however,” Lady Isobella said, coming to join her in the center of the drawing room. “That was where the staff found him.”

“So, therefore, if he did steal the painting, then it was removed from the house by his hands before he returned to join the other guests.” Rosalyn looked to Lord Waverley, seeing his eyes flare wide. “Is that not so?”

“But how would that be possible?” Miss Trentworth and Lord Albury came into the room to join them, clearly overhearing the last that Rosalyn had said.

“You told us that the butler said the footmen and maids and he were to and fro in the house, cleaning the floor and picking up after the decanter and glass.”

The room fell silent again as everyone in the room thought hard. Rosalyn glanced up towards Lord Waverley, seeing his frown and the way his eyes lingered on the floor at his feet.

“Unless,” she said, slowly, the idea coming to her seeming so foolish and preposterous. “Unless he did not remove the painting from the house, choosing to leave it here for another time?”

Every head turned to her, and Rosalyn ducked hers, embarrassment clutching at her. Perhaps she ought not to have given voice to what she had thought. Mayhap it was much too ridiculous for words.

“It would explain, I suppose, why none from your staff saw the painting being taken.” Lord Albury nodded in Rosalyn’s direction. “If you are right, Lady Rosalyn, then he has hidden the painting somewhere very strange and will now be thinking of a way to steal it from you a second time!”

“It is an ingenious plan, if it is what has happened,” Miss Sherwood agreed, her eyes a little wider than usual. “Would he truly have done such a thing? And for what purpose?”

“That is the trouble,” Lord Waverley admitted, spreading out his hands. “I cannot understand the reasoning behind such a thought. Though,” he continued, dropping his hands back to his sides, “if he has been speaking to Lord Hemmingway and Lord Pentland, then there must be a purpose behind it.”

“And he did appear to be upset during that conversation,” Rosalyn added, as Lord Waverley nodded slowly. “Mayhap they want to know where the painting is, and he is not yet ready to give it to them.”

“Mayhap.” Lord Waverley smiled briefly, but it did not light his eyes. “Then should we search the house, do you think? Try to find the painting?”

Rosalyn smiled back at him. “The library might be a good place to look. Lord Coates, for it does appear to be him, had you in the library for a purpose.”

Lord Fairchild got to his feet. “To give you the brandy with the drug in it.”

“ And mayhap to hide the painting.” Rosalyn looked all around her friends as they clustered together. “But if we do not find it, then what do we do?”

It took only a second for her brother to respond, a dark smile shooting shadows up into his eyes. “Then you throw another occasion, Lord Waverley. You throw a soiree and we are all invited – Lord Coates, Lord Hemmingway, and Lord Pentland too.”

Pulling to the idea, Rosalyn nodded fervently.

“Indeed, even if the painting is found, you could set someone to guard the place, to make sure that Lord Coates returns for it, catching him that way. Otherwise, we must all pay close attention to the fellow when he attends. We must hope that he will either reveal the location of the painting or, instead, tell us of his connection to Lord Hemmingway and Lord Pentland.”

Rosalyn’s stomach twisted. “There is still a chance it was not he who took it,” she said, speaking softly. “But the evidence is beginning to collect itself together and points towards Lord Coates.”

“It does,” Miss Sherwood agreed. “And now all we must do is uncover the truth. We are getting closer.” She smiled and encouragement lifted Rosalyn’s heart. “I can feel it.”