Second Chance Girl
Page 13

He was never wrong—he made it a point to be sure of things. He’d only been seriously fooled once in his life and that had been by his ex-wife, Penelope. In that case, the deception had been deliberate—at least on her part. Thinking about that didn’t help him at all, and he mentally turned his back on his former wife. The bigger question was what to do about Violet. He’d slept on the information, then had woken up in the morning with no clear idea of what to do next.
After showering, he ordered breakfast and knew he had to come up with a plan—only he had no idea what it would be. He opened another file on his computer and reviewed the list of missing items provided to him by his housekeeper and his own investigation.
The trouble had started three months ago when Ulrich had ordered a complete inventory of the house, including the attics. The project had taken over a month and they’d discovered some truly wonderful pieces. But many things had also been missing.
The public rooms were closely monitored and protected, and the guests who stayed in the hotel wing didn’t have access to the private residence without an escort. The previous inventory had been conducted by his father, nearly five years before. Ulrich had no way of knowing what had been taken when. Or so he’d thought.
His grandmother’s new secretary had offered a possible explanation when she’d told him about the packages being sent to one Violet Lund in Happily Inc, California. He’d kept watch and had seen the last one mailed himself. He’d guessed on the delivery date and when it had aligned with his trip to Los Angeles, he’d decided to make a slight detour to confront the thief. All for naught.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at his watch and calculated the time difference, then answered the call.
“Please tell me you’re having tea. Good, English tea. What they serve here is dreadful.”
His grandmother laughed. “Poor Ulrich, lost in America. I wish I could say the adventure will do you good, but we both know that’s not the case. How is Los Angeles? Is it sunny this morning? Are you staying by the ocean? I have to say, the Pacific is my favorite of all the oceans.”
Ulrich briefly thought about not telling his grandmother where he was, then dismissed the idea. He was a man of his word and as such, truthful in all things. At least when it came to those he loved. As that list seemed to begin and end with his grandmother—in terms of people and not places—he had to come clean.
“I’m not in Los Angeles. I’m in Happily Inc.”
“What on earth are you doing—” His grandmother went silent, then sighed. “You’re there to see Violet? I can’t imagine why.”
“I thought she was stealing.”
“Ulrich! No. You couldn’t. How do you even know I have business with her?”
“I saw the packages.”
His grandmother sniffed. “You mean that horrible woman you made me hire has been spying on me. I’m getting rid of her, Ulrich. You may be the duke but I’m your grandmother and I won’t be told what to do by you or anyone. I’ve disliked her from the start. You convinced me I was being unfair, but I know the only reason she took the position was to be in proximity to you. I’m sure she was hoping you would fall madly in love with her.”
Ulrich thought about the twentysomething woman who served as his grandmother’s secretary. He honestly couldn’t even remember the color of her eyes. Nothing about her was memorable. The same could not be said for the very fiery Violet, he thought. Her green eyes had flashed with annoyance, then anger, then disdain. She’d been so beautiful, so alive. He’d always preferred quiet, plain women, but there was something about her riot of red curls and the way she’d moved.
“Ulrich?”
“Yes, Grandmother. You’re quite correct. You are more than capable of hiring or firing any one of your staff. And I apologize for listening to your secretary when she told me about the packages being mailed.”
“As you should.”
He smiled. Despite her stern words, her tone had already softened.
“If you are purchasing buttons yourself and then selling them to Violet, what about the other items that have gone missing?”
His grandmother sighed. “That is a more complicated question than one would think.”
“I have little to occupy my day, so take your time.”
“Fine. If you must know, I sold several of the paintings. I didn’t mean to, but each one was admired by one of our guests. They were lesser works and I had them appraised. I know the price was fair. It was three years ago, when we had the trouble with the roof and the plumbing at the same time.”
Ulrich turned away from his computer and shook his head. “The money you said you’d been saving for an emergency?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. It was from the paintings.”
Her supposed emergency fund—nearly a hundred thousand pounds—had come in handy. While Battenberg Park had been in his family for nearly five hundred years, history came at a price. There was always something to be repaired or replaced. A wet and cold summer had meant a reduction in crops and had kept away the tourists. That, combined with a long-needed roof replacement and some plumbing issues had meant every spare penny had gone back into the house.
The following year had been better and the year after, better still. The coffers were, if not full, then comfortably plump. Technically the estate was never without the possibility of cash. There was always something around that could be sold, but Ulrich wanted to maintain as much of his heritage as possible. Not that he had heirs, but one day, with luck, the family line would be safe for another generation or two.
“Several of the crystal pieces were broken,” his grandmother continued. “I knew you would be upset, so I didn’t tell you.”
He started to ask how that could have happened, then realized the answer. A school for the disabled operated quite near the estate. His grandmother made it a point to hire staff from the school. A few of the students lacked physical mobility and dexterity. It was not impossible to imagine a crystal vase, or five, tumbling to the ground.
He rubbed his forehead. “And the rest of it?”
“A few were donated to worthy causes to help them raise money, there was a small fire in one of the storage sheds while you were traveling to—”
“A fire? You didn’t want to mention a fire?”
“You were on your honeymoon. I knew you would have returned. It seemed easier to handle things myself. Which I did. My point is, you were wrong about Violet. I buy buttons for her when I find them. Nothing else.”
“So it appears.”
He made a mental note to have a more thorough conversation with his grandmother when he returned home. He could only imagine what else she’d kept from him in the name of handling things herself.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, her voice oddly contrite. “I know how much Battenberg Park means to you. I didn’t want to upset you, but it seems my good intentions have had unforeseen consequences.”
“You have no idea.”
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud but apparently he had because his grandmother’s voice sharpened.
“What does that mean? You haven’t already spoken to Violet, have you? Oh, Ulrich. She’s lovely and I adore her. If you’ve offended her or hurt her feelings...”
“I’ll make it right.” He didn’t want to, but he had no choice. It was a matter of honor. “I have a teleconference later this morning but I will go see her in the afternoon.”