Hannah knew them, of course. While the Farley family did not possess the enormous wealth and political power of the Wyndham family, the Farleys were well-bred and well connected and therefore considered worthy to socialize with the grand Wyndhams. Hannah’s oldest sister, Sarah, had gone to school with Esme Wyndham Chase; now their young daughters were friends.
The closed and clannish upper-class social scene had never appealed to Hannah. She stared at the book and wondered why on earth Matthew Granger was reading about it.
Her eyes flicked over the thrillers and the behavioral studies of real-life criminals. One thing was certain; he had wildly divergent tastes in books. And there wasn’t a thing in the bag having to do with insects, either. He had been kidding her and Katie, though he teased so seriously, it was difficult to tell.
And then she saw the map. It had been there all along, although it hadn’t registered until right now that the thick folded paper, marking the chapter on the Wyndhams, was a map. She unfolded it. A map of Clover.
Her eyes immediately focused on the red circle drawn near the outskirts of town. Beside it, handwritten in the same red ink were the words “Wyndham estate.”
Hannah drew a sharp breath. Why would he mark the Wyndham estate on this map? It wasn’t as if it was a tourist attraction! Her imagination began to conjure up yet another scenario, supplanting her comfortable criminologist-on-holiday theory.
What if Matthew Granger was a cat burglar who’d come to Clover to rob the Wyndhams? She had been to the family mansion and knew it was a virtual treasure trove filled with priceless antiques and paintings and objets d’art, which had been collected by generations of Wyndhams. It was an antiques dealer’s dream, though Hannah had never, ever approached any Wyndham about selling anything. They would’ve considered any commercial interest crass and ill-bred, and Hannah knew it.
But suppose Matthew Granger had been hired by some fanatical dealer or collector determined to possess what the Wyndhams would never sell? Or perhaps he was acting on his own, hoping to make a killing in the black market, which thrived on stolen treasures? Every cat burglar she’d ever seen in the movies dressed in black, just like Matthew, the better to sneak around on rooftops in the dark, she presumed.
And then there were the Wyndham jewels, a fabulous collection that had graced the throats and wrists and fingers of generations of Wyndham women. Just last month at a charity ball, Hannah had seen the stunning heirloom emerald necklace and matching earrings worn by the incomparable Alexandra Wyndham, that genteel paragon of beauty and class.
She swallowed. That necklace alone could secure a jewel thief a luxurious retirement—if he could remove it from the Wyndham estate. Was Matthew Granger here to try?
Hannah closed her eyes and tried to still the wild pounding of her heart. What should she do? Alert Sheriff Maguire to warn the Wyndhams? But she had no evidence of any wrongdoing or even potential wrongdoing, only her own anxious speculations. She could almost hear Ford Maguire tell her so. It didn’t help that he still thought of her as a flighty little schoolgirl who’d played with his younger sister, Lucy.
Matthew’s and Katie’s voices sounded in the hall. Hannah glanced down at the map and the book in her hand. She couldn’t let him catch her going through his things!
Just as she slipped the map back into the book, she noticed a name written in ink at the bottom of the chapter’s opening page. Alexandra Wyndham. Hannah gasped. She’d envisioned Alexandra in her emeralds, and now her name had turned up in Matthew Granger’s book. As his primary target? The coincidence was creepy enough to make her hair stand on end!
Matthew and Katie were very near, practically outside the door. Hannah had just enough time to rezip the bag and plop down on the edge of the bed. She crossed her legs, affecting a languorous pose while studying her crimson-painted fingernails.
Matthew’s eyes brushed over her, lingering on her lips before lowering to the fullness of her breasts straining against the silver bodice of her dress. Her short shirt had ridden high, exposing her well-shaped silken legs.
Katie glanced uneasily from Hannah’s seductive pose to Matthew’s fixed stare.
“My nail polish is chipped,” Hannah said with a vexed sigh. She hoped she sounded sufficiently insipid, like a self-absorbed idiot who would never bother with a follow-up of that suspicious bag.
Unfortunately, Matthew saw right through her act. “If it really is chipped, which I doubt, you probably did it trying to break into my bag,” he drawled.
Hannah’s head shot up and she met his cool, assessing gaze. He was carrying his suits, and the sight of the light gray coat—the one with the gun in its pocket—shattered her studied composure. “I did not!” she snapped, automatically hiding her hands with ten unchipped nails behind her back. “I don’t care what’s in your stupid bag!”
“What do you think, Katie?” Matthew turned to her. “Doth the lady protest too much?”
Katie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, choosing not to take sides between her paying guest and her fellow bridesmaid.
Hannah recrossed her legs. Matthew was watching her very closely, reading every nuance in her expression, taking in her edgy, agitated behavior. She was not well skilled when it came to deception, Hannah thought glumly. She would make a terrible criminal and an even worse sleuth.
Katie, who had been pulling on Matthew’s wheeled suitcase by its strap, hoisted the case onto the bed beside Hannah. “Well, we’ll get out of your way and let you get settled here in your new room, Matthew,” Katie said heartily. “Thank you so much for your understanding and your cooperation. I hope the rest of your stay in Clover will be—”
“How long do you intend to stay in Clover, Matthew?” Hannah cut in. She forced herself to rise slowly to her feet and then sauntered toward the door, deliberately making her every movement graceful and sensual. Matthew’s dark gaze never wavered from her. It was as if she was putting on a performance for a private audience of one man only.
“My stay is open-ended. I’ll be here as long as it takes to get the job done.”
“The job being your insect research, of course,” Hannah baited him.
“Of course.” He shot her an arrogant grin, his eyes gleaming with challenge.
He knows I know he’s up to no good, Hannah thought, her nerves tingling. She pictured him casing the Wyndham estate. Pulling off the heist. The scene unfolded in her mind like a movie, with a black-clad Matthew Granger playing the lead. Her own role was more nebulous. Was she the gullible girl seduced into thinking the villain was really some sort of redeemable antihero? Or the sharp lady who set the trap and brought the felon to justice?
There was a loud whoop from the party downstairs. Katie, remembering her tenant’s expressed irritation over the noise level, caught her lower lip between her teeth and took a bolstering breath. “Matthew, I want to invite you downstairs to join the party. If you’re going to be in Clover for a while, you might enjoy meeting some—”
“Why would he need to meet people when he’s here to study bugs?” Hannah interjected scornfully.
“We have plenty of food and drinks. Maybe you would like some refreshments, Matthew?” Katie grated through her teeth. It was difficult playing the gracious hostess when Hannah kept lobbing verbal grenades at her guest. “You’re very welcome to join us if you wish,” she added cordially.
“Thanks for your kind invitation.” Matthew’s smile was genuine when he addressed Katie, but transformed into a sardonic smirk when he turned to Hannah. “But I’m not feeling particularly social. I’ll stay up here and unpack.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a spider whose web is chock-full of flies,” said Hannah. “That should make an exciting opening chapter for your book.”
Katie winced, caught Hannah’s arm and firmly hustled