“Who?” Priya added, darkly. “Who was it?”
He held up a hand. “Nothing was taken, but as you know, there were several antiquarians and collectors among the guests. And there was a letter on my desk here from the late Duke of Thorncroft.”
Meg narrowed her eyes. She did not like where this was going. “And?”
“It was about a hoard of Tudor artifacts he believed was hidden inside the abbey somewhere.”
Meg tilted her head, confused, and suspicious. “Why should that be a problem?”
“The footman later identified Lord Eaton as the man who was chased out of this room.”
“He was certainly busy last night,” Tamsin scowled.
“Worse, he went straight to Lord Allensby.”
Priya groaned. “I’ve never met such a gossip in my life.”
“He’s also a collector specializing in the Tudor period.”
“Of course, he is,” Meg said. “Why is this such a dilemma?”
Pendleton rubbed his face wearily. “Who knew who he has already told. Thorncroft is about to have treasure hunters swarm his estate. I need you to help him.”
“Me?” Meg asked. “What can I do? Tamsin is sneakier than me and Priya knows everyone’s secrets. I’m not even an antiquarian!”
“But you’ll already be there sketching the Roman collection so it won’t be obvious. And if we can find the treasure before the others, Thorncroft needn’t be inconvenienced.”
Meg knew exactly how inconvenienced Dougal was about to be. Antiquarians were bad enough; treasure hunters were even more relentless. They would invade his house under any pretext. And Eaton now had a personal vendetta against him. It would not end well if he was left to his devices. “I still don’t see why you don’t send someone more suited.”
“You are perfectly suited. Leonard preserved the art of Thorncroft Abbey religiously, if you’ll pardon the pun. And he added paintings to every available wall and ceiling, even though his father did not leave him much space. I trust you to see where a painting might be off more than I trust even an expert in Tudor houses. It’s as likely to be behind a wall as under a floorboard.”
“I’m not investigating old privies.” She heard stories.
“Of course not,” The duke was flushed, getting agitated as he often did over these matters. “But we cannot let historical artifacts like these fall into the hands of collectors who barely deserve the title, who would sell them off to aristocrats with more money than sense so they might redecorate their drawing rooms.” Big words for a man with several drawing rooms full of artifacts. He sucked in an offended breath. “Lord Allensby recently had a soiree where they unwrapped a mummy he brought in from Egypt.”
“You bring in mummies all of the time,” Priya pointed out drily. “And you have soirees.”
“And I’m always jealous,” Tamsin muttered. “I don’t have a mummy.”
“Allensby used it as tinder when they were done.”
“He burnt it?” Tamsin wailed, equally agitated.
“Who knows what he or his cronies would do the Thorncroft treasure!”
Meg and Priya exchanged a glance as the others worked themselves into a fit.
“It needs to be properly preserved!”
Since Pendleton was turning an alarming shade of puce that Lady Blackwell would have coveted for her next wig, Meg already knew she was going to agree. Lord Eaton needed to be stopped, and Dougal didn’t deserve to be saddled with such a problem. She felt a tiny bit guilty that Dougal had laid him out partly on her behalf. If she hadn’t told him what he was like, he would have had no reason to punch him.
As delicious as it had been, it probably wasn’t worth the hassle of having Eaton at his heels like a rabid badger.
“What is this treasure supposed to be, anyway?” She had vague recollections of her governess talking about the Dissolution of the Monasteries. “Gold coins? Silver plates?”
“And art. Precious Medieval and Renaissance art. The abbey was a scriptorium in its heyday.”
He knew perfectly well how important art was to her.
She slumped, nettled and defeated. “You fight dirty, old man.”