“What did she do with them?”

“She hid them.” Hyacinth was practically bouncing off the sofa now. “She hid them in Clair House, right here in London. She wrote that your grandfather didn’t much like London, so there would be less chance he’d discover them here.”

Finally, some of Hyacinth’s enthusiasm began to seep into him. Not much—he wasn’t going to allow himself to get too excited by what was probably going to turn out to be a wild-goose chase. But her fervor was infectious, and before he realized it, he was leaning forward, his heart beginning to beat just a little bit faster. “What are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying,” she said, as if she was repeating something she’d uttered five times already, in every possible permutation, “that those jewels are probably still there. Oh!” She stopped short, her eyes meeting his with an almost disconcerting suddenness. “Unless you already know about them. Does your father already have them in his possession?”

“No,” Gareth said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. At least, not that I’ve ever been told.”

“You see? We can—”

“But I’m rarely told of anything,” he cut in. “My father has never considered me his closest confidant.”

For a moment her eyes took on a sympathetic air, but that was quickly trampled by her almost piratical zeal. “Then they’re still there,” she said excitedly. “Or at least there is a very good chance that they are. We have to go get them.”

“What—We?” Oh, no.

But Hyacinth was too lost in her own excitement to have noticed his emphasis. “Just think, Gareth,” she said, clearly now perfectly comfortable with the use of his given name, “this could be the answer to all of your financial problems.”

He drew back. “What makes you think I have financial problems?”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Everyone knows you have financial problems. Or if you don’t, you will. Your father has run up debts from here to Nottinghamshire and back.” She paused, possibly for air, then said, “Clair Hall is in Nottinghamshire, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“Right. Well. You’re going to inherit those debts, you know.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then what better way to ensure your solvency than to secure your grandmother’s jewels before Lord St. Clair finds them? Because we both know that he will only sell them and spend the proceeds.”

“You seem to know a great deal about my father,” Gareth said in a quiet voice.

“Nonsense,” she said briskly. “I know nothing about him except that he detests you.”

Gareth cracked a smile, which surprised him. It wasn’t a topic about which he usually possessed a great deal of humor. But then again, no one had ever dared broach it with such frankness before.

“I could not speak on your behalf,” Hyacinth continued with a shrug, “but if I detested someone, you can be sure I would go out of my way to make certain he didn’t get a treasure’s worth of jewels.”

“How positively Christian of you,” Gareth murmured.

She lifted a brow. “I never said I was a model of goodness and light.”

“No,” Gareth said, feeling his lips twitch. “No, you certainly did not.”

Hyacinth clapped her hands together, then set them both palms down on her lap. She looked at him expectantly. “Well, then,” she said, once it was apparent that he had no further comment, “when shall we go?”

“Go?” he echoed.

“To look for the diamonds,” she said impatiently. “Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

Gareth suddenly had a terrifying vision of what it must be like inside her mind. She was dressed in black, clearly, and—good God—almost certainly in men’s clothing as well. She’d probably insist upon lowering herself out her bedroom window on knotted sheets, too.

“We are not going anywhere,” he said firmly.

“Of course we are,” she said. “You must get those jewels. You can’t let your father have them.”

“I will go.”

“You’re not leaving me behind.” It was a statement, not a question. Not that Gareth would have expected otherwise from her.

“If I attempt to break into Clair House,” Gareth said, “and that is a rather large if, I will have to do so in the dead of night.”

“Well, of course.”

Good God, did the woman never cease talking? He paused, waiting to make sure that she was done. Finally, with a great show of exaggerated patience, he finished with, “I am not dragging you around town at midnight. Forget, for one moment, about the danger, of which I assure you there is plenty. If we were caught, I would be required to marry you, and I can only assume your desire for that outcome evenly matches mine.”

It was an overblown speech, and his tone had been rather pompous and stuffy, but it had the desired effect, forcing her to close her mouth for long enough to sort through the convoluted structure of his sentences.

But then she opened it again, and said, “Well, you won’t have to drag me.”

Gareth thought his head might explode. “Good God, woman, have you been listening to anything I’ve said?”

“Of course I have. I have four older brothers. I can recognize a supercilious, pontificating male when I see one.”

“Oh, for the love of—”