He greeted the three men, then admitted, “Yes, that’s my report on its way to the directors of the gallery.”
“Well, then.” Pyne looked from Godfrey to Mr. Hinckley. “What’s the verdict? I take it it’s good news?”
All three men looked from Mr. Hinckley, to Godfrey, then back again.
Godfrey inclined his head to Mr. Hinckley, indicating that it was the older man’s decision as to what was revealed.
“As a matter of fact,” Mr. Hinckley said, “the answer is no. Sadly, our painting has proved to be a forgery.”
“What?” Morris looked dumbfounded.
“Really?” came from Pyne.
Masterton frowned. “But…how could that be?”
“How, indeed?” Godfrey murmured. All three men looked genuinely shocked.
“Sit”—Mr. Hinckley waved to the various chairs—“and between us, we’ll try to explain.”
Ellie resumed her seat. Once Godfrey, Masterton, Morris, and Pyne had settled in armchairs pulled into a circle, her father commenced the story of what they believed had happened to the painting old Henry Hinckley had brought home from Italy centuries ago.
Ellie studied Masterton, Morris, and Pyne. Given that whoever stole the painting would know the one now at the Hall was a forgery, she watched to see if any of their reactions seemed strange or strained or too studied. Despite seeing nothing but surprise and shock, she couldn’t help wondering if one of the three was their thief. Morris and Pyne had arrived for their customary Wednesday visit; they’d been regular visitors over the period during which the painting had been stolen and replaced, as had Masterton, who tended to call in whenever he was passing.
It could have been one of the three, but as she and Godfrey had concluded, there were simply too many people who had known of the painting to suspect everyone it might have been.
Godfrey had remained silent, sitting outwardly relaxed in the armchair beside hers while her father explained how they believed the thief had made away with the original Albertinelli, then returned with the forged copy and replaced it in the frame in her mother’s parlor.
“So, you see, we had no idea the original had been stolen.” Her father raised his hands in a gesture of resignation. “But it has been, so sadly, we no longer have it to sell.”
Morris and Pyne looked perturbed and unsettled, while Masterton appeared to be pondering deeply.
After several seconds of silence, Pyne’s gaze flicked to Godfrey, then he cleared his throat and ventured, “Perhaps a second opinion…?”
Ellie glanced at her father as he waved that aside and stated, “I have complete faith in Lord Godfrey’s abilities.”
It was the first the three had heard of Godfrey’s title. The change in Pyne’s expression was almost comical, while Morris’s jaw fell. Ellie fought down a grin. It was time that tidbit came out, and her father had chosen the perfect time to reveal it.
Seated on Godfrey’s other side, Masterton had swung his gaze to Godfrey. He stared, then muttered in a stunned, almost horrified tone, “Lord Godfrey?”
Godfrey merely arched his brows. “I prefer not to use my title when acting in my professional capacity.”
Masterton’s expression turned decidedly sour.
Ellie compressed her lips into a determinedly straight line; now was not the time to smile. Given Masterton’s seemingly never-fading hopes of her, he wouldn’t like seeing her consorting with a handsome lord and possibly getting ideas.
If only he knew…
Her composure nearly broke when Masterton said to Godfrey, “Now you’ve completed your assignment here, my lord, and the roads are clear, I assume you’ll be leaving shortly. When do you expect to be on your way?” Masterton managed to make the question passably polite.
His expression studiously mild, Godfrey glanced at Ellie, then met Masterton’s gaze. “That’s yet to be decided.”
Predictably, Masterton frowned. He shot a searching look at Ellie; she met it with her customary unperturbed assurance, although, inside, she was dancing with happiness that there was now no chance whatsoever that Masterton would ever succeed in pressuring her to marry him.
Airily, she switched her gaze to the other men.
Pyne had recovered from the compounding shocks of the successive revelations. “I say, Matthew, that’s rotten luck. But what will you do now?”
Morris, too, looked at her father. “Now you won’t have the funds from selling the painting.”
Her father’s expression remained relaxed. “As it happens, the situation with the painting might not be a complete loss.”
“Oh?” came from Pyne.
Morris looked equally interested, and even Masterton looked up.
“Apparently,” her father said, “the forgery is an exceptionally good one. Lord Godfrey recognized the artist’s work and knows who the forger is. Given we have the documents that prove beyond question that the original Albertinelli is ours…” Her father broke off and appealed to Godfrey. “I have that right, don’t I, my lord?”
Godfrey nodded. “Indeed. There is no question that legally, that particular painting belongs to the Hinckleys.”
“Yes, well,” Mr. Hinckley went on, “as that’s the case, there might be a way to reclaim the painting and, thereafter, complete the sale to the gallery. It’s possible this business with the forgery might turn out to be simply a delay. Luckily, we have sufficient funds to see us through—we can wait to see what transpires.”
All three visitors were now frowning.
Eventually, Masterton said, “I confess I don’t quite understand. If the original painting has vanished, how will you reclaim it?”
Mr. Hinckley looked at Godfrey. “If you would, my lord?”
Pyne’s, Morris’s, and Masterton’s gazes swung to Godfrey, and he explained, “I intend to visit the forger and, from him, learn the name of whoever commissioned the copy of the Albertinelli and follow the trail from there.”
Throughout their revelations, Godfrey had been watching the newcomers’ faces. Pyne continued to look intrigued, and Morris’s curiosity appeared appeased, while Masterton’s expression had turned impassive, and his tone was faintly aggressive when he asked, “And then what?”
Evenly, Godfrey replied, “Once we’ve determined who now holds the original painting, we can use the provenance to reclaim it under law.” He paused, then added, “It might take some time, but there are various levers that can be pulled to make the attempt more likely to succeed.”
Masterton’s frown had rematerialized. He nodded, but distantly, as if he was now pondering something else. “I see.”
Ellie viewed Masterton’s expression and inwardly shook her head. She would wager he was in the throes of realizing that she and her family were, even now, not at the point of being forced to turn to him for assistance. He’d first discussed the notion with her father prior to them deciding to sell the painting. She and her father both regarded accepting financial assistance from Masterton—who, when all was said and done, was a very distant connection—as a last resort; neither had considered it wise to place themselves in Masterton’s debt, thus giving him a weapon to hold over her head to force her to marry him.