A collective gasp rang through the room.
“Five thousand!” Lord Newberry cried before Sir Melrose made his counter-offer. The golden-haired Adonis flashed his perfect teeth. “You know I can settle immediately, Daventry.”
Five thousand!
“Six!” Sybil blurted. Heavens, she would need to sell her mother’s jewels should she have cause to bid again, and that was most definitely out of the question. “And I, too, can settle today.”
Cassandra tugged Sybil’s pelisse and whispered, “Have you lost your mind? You’re gambling with your future.”
The menacing tone of the anonymous letters had robbed Sybil of her facilities. If she stopped to consider the full implication of the threat, she would crumple to her knees a quivering wreck.
Indeed, numerous things had occurred to leave her nerves in tatters. Twice during the last week, a stranger had followed her home. Someone had smashed a pane of glass in the kitchen window, though the culprit must have been starving as he stole nothing but a hunk of bread. Someone had delivered an ox’s heart in a box, though Cook had not placed the order. Sybil had woken to find her bedchamber window open, the curtains flapping phantom-like in the wind.
“The items are of no use to either of you.” Sir Melrose’s croaky voice dragged Sybil from her haunting reverie. “Price should not be the only consideration. As an elected member of the Royal Society, you can trust Mr Atwood’s work will be treated with the utmost reverence.”
“And yet many are critical of the Society’s approach to science,” Sybil said. She read the broadsheets. How else was a woman to keep abreast of current affairs?
She turned to Mr Daventry, who appeared to have lost interest in the conversation. A sullen gentleman in the front row had captured his attention. The quiet figure cared nothing for the argument amongst the bidders. Indeed, he studied the equipment on display as if he could read their untold secrets.
“Seven thousand.” Lord Newberry’s bid sent the room plunging into shocked silence. “Take it now, Daventry, for I shall not make such a generous offer again.”
The mention of his name drew Mr Daventry’s attention back to the men with more money than sense. “Perhaps there is some fault with your hearing, Newberry. I’ve had a change of heart. The items are no longer for sale. Not today at any rate.”
Sir Melrose’s eyes bulged in their sockets. “Atwood would be mortified by this debacle.”
“As Miss Atwood kindly reminded me, her father would want his possessions to go to a worthy patron. I suggest those who are interested in obtaining the items should send a written statement of how they intend to use the collection.”
“This is outrageous!” Sir Melrose barged past those in the seats next to him. He lacked the courage to approach Mr Daventry and pursue his complaint. “You shall have my explanation as to why these items are of importance within the hour.”
When Sir Melrose stormed from the room, other men rose cautiously to their feet and ambled out behind him. Their whispered objections were inaudible, although one anonymous person blamed Mr Daventry’s lack of breeding for his disgraceful conduct.
“Well, Daventry, you certainly enjoy causing a stir.” Lord Newberry brushed the sleeves of his elegant coat and ran his fingers along the brim of his top hat. “I shall be at my club should sense prevail. I doubt you’ll receive a higher bid.”
“I’ll have your written statement before I make my decision,” Mr Daventry countered.
An arrogant smirk played on the lord’s lips as he made to depart, but he stopped abruptly and focused his piercing blue gaze on Sybil. “Perhaps you would care to ride out with me tomorrow, Miss Atwood. Surely a lady with your adventurous spirit would enjoy a wild ride in a racing curricle.”
Mr Daventry cursed beneath his breath.
Sybil might have been flattered—Lord Newberry was as wealthy as he was handsome—but suspicion flared. He had never shown the remotest interest in her before.
“Be careful how you use the term adventurous, Newberry.” Deep furrows appeared between Mr Daventry’s brows. “Just because the lady is outspoken when it comes to her father’s personal effects, do not presume to know her character.”
Good Lord!
Was Mr Daventry defending her reputation?
“I’m sure Lord Newberry meant no slight.” She turned to the lord whose angelic features were so opposed to Mr Daventry’s prominent cheekbones and sculpted jaw. “I’m afraid I have a previous engagement, my lord.” It occurred to her that one of the bidders might be the vile person behind the threatening letters. Perhaps Lord Newberry would go to any lengths to achieve his goal. “Mr Daventry invited me to tea. With luck, I shall have an opportunity to examine my father’s journals before they are shipped to the worthiest bidder. No doubt, I will find something interesting written in the volumes.”
There, that set the cat amongst the pigeons.
Both men conveyed instant displeasure.
Both men acted oddly at her sudden declaration.
An uncharacteristic look of panic passed over Lord Newberry’s fine features. Mr Daventry kept a stone-like expression, but she could almost hear his silent raging.
Perhaps the idea had merit. Perhaps it would help to know why so many men wanted access to her father’s journals. Knowing Mr Daventry would never invite her to take tea, she would have to find a way of stealing into his home, find a means of examining the pages in those mysterious books.