"I'm not surprised." Griffin's knees creaked when he stood and stretched. "That's it, then, is it?"
"Everything in here was old, things she didn't use anymore, things it made sense to have put away." Leaving the ring on her finger, she began putting everything else back. "I guess she didn't have a lot to keep. Mama led a quiet life."
He nodded. "My parents often left us with our governesses, but I remember your mother was always home with you."
"She never went up to London. She said the air there was bad for her lungs." Another dismal sigh escaped her lips as she replaced the last few items and shut the trunk. "Noah was right. There was nothing important here. I'm sorry I wasted your time."
"It wasn't a waste, Rachael." He watched her spread the embroidered cloth, the narrow gold ring glinting as she moved. "Did your mother have no other jewels?"
The lamp in her hand, she froze. "Yes, of course she did. I've had them all along. She may have been quiet, but she liked pretty things. She willed all her jewels to me. Claire and Elizabeth each chose a few pieces, but the rest are in my room."
He took the lamp from her and set it down decisively, then reached a hand to help her up. "We should have looked at them last time. Maybe something will be engraved—"
"Nothing is. I would have noticed."
Yes, she probably would have. Rachael was nothing if not observant. "Let's have a look, though, shall we?"
Rachael's chamber was deep rose and rich green and dark blue, a combination as classic and sophisticated as Rachael herself. Another of her mother's watercolors hung over her washstand. Fetching a mahogany box off her dressing table, she brought it with her to sit on the bed and patted the spot beside her in invitation, apparently comfortable having an unmarried man in her room.
Griffin wished he could say the same. It felt highly improper to be in here.
He sat, though, when she opened the box. Filled to the brim, it sparkled with gold and lustrous pearls, diamonds and colorful gems. Griffin didn't know much about jewelry, but he recognized a fortune when he saw it.
His eyes must have widened, because Rachael laughed at the look on his face. "This family is descended from jewelers," she reminded him. "My great-great-grandmother, or some such."
"I think you need a few more greats," he said, remembering now. "Her father's shop burned in the Great Fire, didn't it? Way back in the 1660s?"
"Something like that. Some cousins own another shop in London. It was opened by one of her sons, I think. In any case, there are many more jewels, including some very old ones, in the safe in Claire's workshop." Her sister Claire had taken up the old family hobby. "These were Mama's personal items. Some family heirlooms given to her by my father—Lord Greystone, I mean—and some newer things. But nothing I could identify as coming from her first husband."
Griffin sifted through the treasure trove, rings and bracelets glittering as they slipped through his fingers. He recognized a diamond necklace as one Rachael had worn to a ball at Cainewood two summers earlier. A pair of ruby earrings that looked like the ones in her mother's formal portrait. A brooch he had often seen pinned on Georgiana's dress.
A locket made him momentarily hopeful, but it held a swatch of hair, not a miniature or a note. No dates or names were engraved on anything.
Then another brooch caught his eye. "The Prince of Wales's Feathers," he murmured, pulling it from the pile.
Three silver plumes rose from a gold coronet of alternate crosses and fleurs-de-lis, studded with rubies and emeralds. Along the bottom, a gold ribbon bore a motto.
"What does it say?" Rachael asked.
"'Ich Dien.' I serve." He looked at her, his heart pounding. "Your father…I mean, John Chase, Lord Greystone…was he ever in the cavalry?"
"Of course not. His younger brother served in the army, but Grandfather would never have allowed his heir to risk his life."
"I thought not. This may be our clue."
She blinked. "It's a national symbol of Wales, isn't it? I assumed it was a souvenir from a visit."
"It's a military badge. From the Tenth Hussars. My regiment."
Hope leapt into her sky blue eyes. "Do you think it was given to my mother by a member?"
"An officer, from the looks of this piece. Gold and gemstones. An enlisted man would wear a much less expensive version." The metal felt cool in his fingers as he turned it over. Nothing was engraved on the back.
"No more clues," she said with a sigh.
"This alone may be enough. Would you mind if I keep it a while?"
"Of course not. But how can it help you find my father?"
He slipped it into his pocket. "He died in 1792, sometime in the months after you were conceived but before you were born—that much we know. We weren't at war then. Louis the Sixteenth had yet to be tried and executed, and Napoleon didn't come to power until 'ninety-nine. There shouldn't have been many deaths that year; the Tenth would have been at home; in peacetime, there are few casualties. I'll go to regimental headquarters and ask to see the records."
It would take two days to get there, a day to search the records, and another two days to ride home. Five days during which Corinna wouldn't meet any suitable men. But much as he wanted his sister married and off his hands, he didn't mind.
Rachael's happiness was important, too.
Although another woman might have made a token protest, Rachael wasn't that sort. "Thank you," she said instead, two simple, grateful words. "Do you expect you can find something that could tell
