St. Clare glanced at Maggie. He wouldn’t blame her if she was irritated. She’d only agreed to go through with this dinner after Allendale had asked her to. But she didn’t appear upset. She looked defiant. Her back was straight, and her chin lifted. There was a martial glint in her sapphire eyes.

“You may speak to me if you wish, certainly,” she said. “But I’ll not be lectured to. Not by you, sir, or your son. Or by anyone so unconnected with my future happiness.”

“Here, here,” Miss Trumble said.

Sir Roderick turned on her. “Hold your tongue, young lady. I take leave to tell you that you’ve done a lamentable job as Miss Honeywell’s chaperone. Her ruin is on your head.”

“Don’t you dare speak to her in that tone,” Maggie said sharply.

“Where is Lord Allendale?” Mrs. Beresford asked St. Clare. “Why did he not come with you?”

“My grandfather has been detained elsewhere,” St. Clare replied.

Lionel idly dusted a piece of lint from his waistcoat. “Undoubtedly. Now that his scheme has been laid bare, he’ll have returned to London. Or is he already en route back to the continent? He never was much for England. Not after his son disgraced the family name.”

“The apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” Mrs. Beresford remarked.

St. Clare ignored the barb. “He’ll join us as soon as he’s able.”

Maggie looked at him, brows lifted. There was a question in her eyes. Is he truly coming? But she didn’t ask that. To do so would have revealed her uncertainty. “Should I hold back dinner?” she asked instead.

“That won’t be necessary. My grandfather wouldn’t want us to postpone our meal.”

“And why not?” Lionel smiled, enjoying himself. “We can wait another ten minutes, can’t we? Another fifteen, for such esteemed company as my uncle?”

Fred leaned back against the mantelpiece. “Seaton can entertain us while we wait. He can tell us where he went after escaping the hangman’s noose.”

“A hanging. Dear me.” Mrs. Beresford tittered. “Quite shocking. But necessary, I daresay, for certain crimes—and for certain men. Men of low character and low breeding.”

“He stole Miss Honeywell’s jewelry,” Fred said. “Three priceless pieces passed down to her from her mother. I found them hidden in his room above the stables.”

“Above the stables?” Lionel chuckled. “How indescribably quaint.”

“Strange that you should be the one to find my mother’s jewels, Fred,” Maggie said. “You discovered them before I’d even realized they were missing. And on a day when my father was conveniently away from home, unable to intervene.”

“Nothing strange about it,” Sir Roderick replied crossly. “My son had the ear of the servants. Someone reported the crime to you, didn’t they? A maidservant, I believe you said.”

Fred was quiet. And then: “I don’t recall.”