Belong To Me (book 4) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (24 page)

Three lines appeared across Lady
Stringham’s
forehead. “What makes you so confident?”

“May I be blunt with you?”

“Certainly.”

Charlotte looked deep into the other woman’s eyes. “Because, quite simply, I’m a very wealthy woman,
a
heiress to a great fortune. There’s no reason my husband needs to steal from anyone.”

“I can see your point, but I and my husband believe your husband to be guilty.”

“Please tell me what makes you think he’s guilty.”

“He knew of a secret door into our quarters. He used this passageway to spy on one of our servants who was stealing from us at the time your husband was in our employ. This door was also used by the thief, so it’s only common sense.”

Charlotte studied the other woman then asked, “Did you actually see Ian steal from you?”

“Of course not.
It was early in the morning. We were all in bed.
Even my servants.”

“Are you certain nobody else knows about this secret door?”

“I’m positive.”

“What makes you so sure that’s the entrance the man used?”

“Because the door was left slightly ajar.”

Charlotte tried to think of some logical explanation, but nothing intelligent came to mind. “Did my husband do a good job when he worked for you?”

Lady
Stringham
nodded. “Oh, yes. My husband was quite pleased.”

“Did you consider it money well spent?”

“But of course. Your husband is one of the best.”

“Did you know my husband used to work for the King’s guard?”

“Yes. It’s common knowledge.”

“Do you know if the King’s guard was impressed with my husband?”

“Of course.
His recommendation was the reason Mr. Fielding’s business flourished so quickly.”

“Don’t you find it strange my husband didn’t steal from him when he had the chance? When my husband worked for the King’s guard, he was practically penniless.”

Lady
Stringham
kept her lips pursed for the longest time. Unease began to settle in Charlotte’s limbs, but she managed not to fidget. She sat quietly, letting the other woman ponder her information.

“If what you say is correct,” Lady
Stringham
finally spoke, “then the fact still remains…the thief knew of the secret door.”

“When did you first suspect Ian?”

Lady
Stringham
remained quiet for a few minutes, looking to be in mental deliberation, and then her eyes widened. “We informed Commissioner Franklin as soon as we discovered the theft, and he realized that at that time, your husband must be the culprit.”

Charlotte tried not to shiver with disgust from mere mention of the man’s name. “What did he say?”

“He brought to our attention that your husband was the only one to know the way our house is set up.
And of course, about the secret door.”

She arched her brows. “How did he know about the secret door?”

Lady
Stringham
shrugged. “I think my husband mentioned it.”

Charlotte nodded and stood. “Thank you for talking with me, Lady
Stringham
. I hope my visit was not an inconvenience.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Fielding. I hope your husband is not the thief. You seem like an exceptional woman, and during the time your husband worked for us, we liked him immensely.”

“Thank you. I’m going to do all I can to prove his innocence.” She struggled to maintain an even, conciliatory tone.

Charlotte kept silent during their ride to the second residence on Ian’s list. Ian had asked her a few questions, but all she told him was she had learned nothing new, which of course, was true. But her mind worked a million miles a second. What she had told Lady
Stringham
made Charlotte really wonder about him. Would Ian steal from his clients when he was making good money? Did he have some need for cash that she wasn’t aware of? Since Ian didn’t have access to her money, had he truly helped himself to his client’s things? Or was the commissioner clever enough to be setting Ian up? But there were so many things to think about and trying to think of them was giving her a headache.

The visit with Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton wasn’t quite as friendly as with Lady
Stringham
. Mr. Pendleton was obviously angry and acted imposed upon. He asked to be excused before he said something that might cause uproar. Mrs. Pendleton didn’t bother to invite Charlotte to sit. She watched Charlotte with jaded eyes.

Charlotte wondered if the lady feared she might attempt to steal something also. Mrs. Pendleton said her husband gave Ian a key to one of the side doors never used by them or by their servants. This, of course, was the way the thief came into their home. Several large Oriental vases were stolen and artifacts from India.
Priceless items that could not be replaced.

Charlotte asked the same questions about the commissioner and Ian’s situation, but Mrs. Pendleton didn’t respond. She was adamant about Ian being the thief just as Lady
Stringham
had been. She vowed to pursue the case until her priceless belongings were returned.

“Mrs. Pendleton, you’ve been most gracious this afternoon, and I appreciate your time.”

The older woman nodded stiffly.

Charlotte swallowed, moistening her dry throat. “One more question, if you will…when did you come to suspect my husband?”

For the first time since their visit, Charlotte witnessed the older woman’s facial features relax as she remained silent, apparently, deep in thought. Just like Lady
Stringham
, Mrs. Pendleton eyes widened. She lifted her chin once again. “It was when the commissioner was here asking us questions right after the robbery. It was he who indicated that it must have been Mr. Fielding.”

Charlotte nodded. “What did he say?”

“He stressed how Mr. Fielding was the only person to have that key to the side door.”

Charlotte cocked her head to the side. “Has Commissioner Franklin ever been in your home?”

The older woman shook her head.

“Don’t you find that rather strange? I mean, how would the commissioner know about the side door?”

Mrs. Pendleton gave her a scowl. “I think our conversation has ended.”

Charlotte nodded. “You have been most gracious, Mrs. Pendleton.”

It relieved Charlotte to know the other woman didn’t have her servants physically show Charlotte out. When she left the house, her hopes were lower than before. This time, Ian didn’t ask any questions when he helped her inside the carriage. She slumped back in the seat as he grabbed the reins and urged the horses forward.

He glanced at her with a frown on his disguised face. “Do you think we should go back home now?” he asked.

“I am rather tired.”

“Can you manage just one more house?”

She nodded and massaged the back of her neck.

When they drove up to the next place, and Charlotte was shown into the parlor by a servant, she knew immediately this was some man’s mistress. The gaudy red and gold carpets and drapes, and the naked statues in the parlor were dead giveaways. It made Charlotte wonder if Ian had ever been involved with Miss Jacqueline
Fonteneau
in the biblical sense.

Miss
Fonteneau
was a striking woman, and much younger than Charlotte had expected. The woman’s personality was as bouncy as the red ringlets framing her painted face. As Charlotte talked, she studied Miss
Founteneau’s
expression. The woman was completely at ease. When Charlotte mentioned Ian’s name, the woman gave no adverse reaction at all. All she wanted, she said, was to find out who had taken her jewelry. The expensive jewels had been gifts, but Miss
Fonteneau
didn’t mention who’d given them to her.

Charlotte repeated the same questions to Miss
Fonteneau
, but the woman acted as if she had trouble focusing on the topic. The hesitation drove Charlotte absolutely mad. She knew getting angry wouldn’t accomplish anything so she simply clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“I was shocked when Jeffrey first suggested it might be Ian,” Miss
Fonteneau
told Charlotte. “Ian was so very friendly. He was also so very good, um, at his job, I mean.”

Charlotte tried to maintain a steady expression. What gave the gaudy woman the right to use Ian’s given name? Was this Miss
Fonteneau’s
way to let Charlotte know that she and Ian had been intimate?

Charlotte pasted on a fake smile. “I see…what else can you tell me?” She kept her voice steady.

“Of course, he came recommended very highly,” said Miss
Fonteneau
.

Annoyance and jealousy began to consume Charlotte. She took a deep breath for control, and then asked coldly, “Why did the commissioner suggest my husband, Miss
Fonteneau
?”

“Please, Mrs. Fielding, call me Jacqueline. Since your husband is a very good friend of mine, I feel as if we are friends also.”

Charlotte really didn’t want to, but she should discern a little more information before she exploded in rage. “So, Jacqueline, it was the commissioner who suggested my husband had stolen from you?”

“Yes. When Jeffrey first told me, I laughed. I couldn’t believe Ian would do something so underhanded.”

Charlotte wondered why the commissioner disliked Ian so much. And why did Jacqueline call the commissioner by his first name, almost as if she was on familiar terms with him? “Is there anything else you remember about your conversation with him?”

Jacqueline chewed lightly on her fingernail, before finally shaking her head. “No.
Nothing more.”

“If you recall anymore, please let me know.” Charlotte stood. “I really believe my husband is innocent and I want to help him clear his name.”

“I’d really like to help. As I said before, your husband was a friend of mine, and he was so very good,” she purred, making Charlotte’s stomach twist in disgusting knots. “His secretary is also a funny, charming man,” Jacqueline added.

Confusion clouded Charlotte’s mind. “Do you mean Mr. Ewan Stout?”

“Yes. Ian and Ewan visited me here once a week. Not at the same time, of course.”

“I didn’t know Mr. Stout helped out my husband with his cases.”

“Oh, he usually doesn’t, but only in my situation,” Jacqueline paused, her smile widening.

Charlotte’s mind worked faster now. Everything made a little more sense, and because of that, she felt exhilarated again.

“I must go now. Thank you for your help, Jacqueline. Please let me know if you remember anything else.”

“I will. Please come back again. You’re a very sweet woman. I can see why Ian married you.”

Charlotte practically ran out to the carriage, almost knocking Ian over in the process.
“Hurry.
Let’s leave. I have a theory to try out on you. We’ll discuss it when we get home.”

* * * *

Ian waited patiently to continue the conversation with Charlotte, and when they finally reached the house, he told Charlotte he’d meet her in her room, just in case there were curious and deceitful eyes lurking about in the shadows around the house. Hurrying through the secret passageways of the old castle, he arrived in his room and quickly disposed of his disguise. After dressing in his own attire, he crept into Charlotte’s room.

Charlotte sat in her heavily cushioned chair beside the fire. Her lovely smile took away all the worry he’d been agonizing over these past few minutes. He sat in the chair next to her.

“Ian,” she began, “did you and Miss
Fonteneau
ever had intimate relations?”

It was as if a bucket of icy water dumped over his body, and he jumped out of his chair. After catching his breath, he realized what a mistake it was to take her to meet Jacqueline. He hesitated in his answer. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She sighed and gave him her pity look. “I think it has a lot to do with this case.”

Running his long fingers through his hair, he sighed. “Charlotte, this is very uncomfortable for me to talk about.”

“Ian.” She reached out and touched his arm. “It’s all right. If I hadn’t been so ashamed of being untouched, I might have been involved with a secret affair as well…considering that was Allison’s way of life. Besides, you and I were two different people back then. I’ll understand if you and Jacqueline were intimate.”

His heart softened from the gentle expression on her face. Kneeling beside her chair he took her hands in his. “I didn’t have an affair with her, although I had been tempted a few times. We were friends, and I wanted to keep our relationship on that level. She tried many times to seduce me, but I never gave in. I promise. Besides, she was another man’s mistress.”

Charlotte nodded. “I suspected her immoral lifestyle when I first walked into her home and met her. But it wasn’t until the very end of our conversation when I realized who pays for her way of life.”

“Did she tell you?”

“No, but she gave it away easy enough. Commissioner Franklin is the man warming her bed and paying her way.”