murder.
Still, only one person would inherit everything if she died. Not Magda. Not Robert since the day he'd had a meeting with a bullet. Not the strange villain she'd hoped to discover or any of her myriad acquaintances.
Just Cyril.
* * *
Edward shoved Isabel's reticule in her face and grinned. "I found another reason , Miss Balfour."
Isabel stood up, her back ramrod straight. "Paige, would you excuse us?"
Paige eyes narrowed on her father. "I'll be waiting just next door."
Edward tapped his foot impatiently. "This won kill hke long."
As soon as the door shut behind Paige, Isabel snatched her reticule. "How dare you go through my belongings!"
"You're living under my roof."
"That doesn't mean I'm not entitled to my privacy."
He leaned against the schoolroom table. "How I discover your wrongdoing is unimportant."
"Wrongdoing?" She yanked open the bag, her eyes going wide when she saw what it contained. She'd only just found the pin yesterday!
"Yes," he said, "that broach is covered in diamonds and only available to members of the Red Letter Club."
She forced herself to breathe, her mind quickly ran over the possibilities. Was Cyril a member of that club? Edward had just given her a vital clue and all because he was too meddlesome to keep his nose out of her affairs. She casually deposited the bag on the table. "I haven't done anything wrong."
He scoffed as he waved the reticule in front of her. "You don't think stealing is wrong?"
Stealing? She should have known his implication from the start. "I didn't steal that broach."
"This broach belongs to Mrs. Templeton. She lost it around the time you moved in."
"I didn't steal from Mrs. Templeton." Isabel fiddled with the jet beads on her bracelet, the only shiny, attractive portion of her dark attire. "Did you say that broach is from the Red Letter Club? Is that an establishment only for women?"
Edward wrinkled his nose and squinted down at her. "What are you talking about?"
Isabel stared back at him. "I merely wondered if one had to be a woman to be in the Red Letter Club."
"No. But only the dandy boys with too much time on their hands are involved."
A description that fit Cyril like a glove. Isabel fell back toward the table and moaned. "That doesn't narrow it down at all."
"Narrow what down?" Edward shook his head. "You're trying to change the subject and I won't allow it. Tell me where you got the broach, Miss Balfour."
"I found it."
He shook his head. "Where? In Mrs. Templeton's bedroom?"
Isabel organized the items on the table. "You're being ridiculous, Mr. Templeton."
Edward wound his fingers around her wrist and pulled her toward him. "Then tell me how you got the broach, if not from this house. Was it a gift? Are you a prostitute?"
"No! I told you, I found it."
He squeezed, and the pressure made her hand go numb. "Liar. I thought your manipulation of Mr. Templeton was bad enough. I didn't realize until now that you are a true gold digger."
She struggled to get away, the nerves in her wrist cried out in protest. "You're a nasty man."
"That's not the proper way to speak to your betters."
Isabel shook with rage. She tried to slap him with her other hand, but he seized it too. "I am not a . . . what you accuse me of. Let go of me this instant!"
He leered down at her. "If you're not a loose woman, then you stole that broach from Mrs. Templeton. Either way, I've found you out."
She regained her composure and met his stony gaze. "I found the broach on the street, on one of my personal days."
"Fibbing again. You won't get away with this, Miss Balfour!"
She blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut. "What do you want from me?"
"Need you even ask? If I have to sit here and watch you destroy Mr. Templeton's life, you might at least reassure me with your favors."
"I would rather lose my job."
"Then start packing," he replied. He released her and gave her a gentle push away from him.
Isabel stumbled into the table. "You can't prove I've done
Still, only one person would inherit everything if she died. Not Magda. Not Robert since the day he'd had a meeting with a bullet. Not the strange villain she'd hoped to discover or any of her myriad acquaintances.
Just Cyril.
* * *
Edward shoved Isabel's reticule in her face and grinned. "I found another reason , Miss Balfour."
Isabel stood up, her back ramrod straight. "Paige, would you excuse us?"
Paige eyes narrowed on her father. "I'll be waiting just next door."
Edward tapped his foot impatiently. "This won kill hke long."
As soon as the door shut behind Paige, Isabel snatched her reticule. "How dare you go through my belongings!"
"You're living under my roof."
"That doesn't mean I'm not entitled to my privacy."
He leaned against the schoolroom table. "How I discover your wrongdoing is unimportant."
"Wrongdoing?" She yanked open the bag, her eyes going wide when she saw what it contained. She'd only just found the pin yesterday!
"Yes," he said, "that broach is covered in diamonds and only available to members of the Red Letter Club."
She forced herself to breathe, her mind quickly ran over the possibilities. Was Cyril a member of that club? Edward had just given her a vital clue and all because he was too meddlesome to keep his nose out of her affairs. She casually deposited the bag on the table. "I haven't done anything wrong."
He scoffed as he waved the reticule in front of her. "You don't think stealing is wrong?"
Stealing? She should have known his implication from the start. "I didn't steal that broach."
"This broach belongs to Mrs. Templeton. She lost it around the time you moved in."
"I didn't steal from Mrs. Templeton." Isabel fiddled with the jet beads on her bracelet, the only shiny, attractive portion of her dark attire. "Did you say that broach is from the Red Letter Club? Is that an establishment only for women?"
Edward wrinkled his nose and squinted down at her. "What are you talking about?"
Isabel stared back at him. "I merely wondered if one had to be a woman to be in the Red Letter Club."
"No. But only the dandy boys with too much time on their hands are involved."
A description that fit Cyril like a glove. Isabel fell back toward the table and moaned. "That doesn't narrow it down at all."
"Narrow what down?" Edward shook his head. "You're trying to change the subject and I won't allow it. Tell me where you got the broach, Miss Balfour."
"I found it."
He shook his head. "Where? In Mrs. Templeton's bedroom?"
Isabel organized the items on the table. "You're being ridiculous, Mr. Templeton."
Edward wound his fingers around her wrist and pulled her toward him. "Then tell me how you got the broach, if not from this house. Was it a gift? Are you a prostitute?"
"No! I told you, I found it."
He squeezed, and the pressure made her hand go numb. "Liar. I thought your manipulation of Mr. Templeton was bad enough. I didn't realize until now that you are a true gold digger."
She struggled to get away, the nerves in her wrist cried out in protest. "You're a nasty man."
"That's not the proper way to speak to your betters."
Isabel shook with rage. She tried to slap him with her other hand, but he seized it too. "I am not a . . . what you accuse me of. Let go of me this instant!"
He leered down at her. "If you're not a loose woman, then you stole that broach from Mrs. Templeton. Either way, I've found you out."
She regained her composure and met his stony gaze. "I found the broach on the street, on one of my personal days."
"Fibbing again. You won't get away with this, Miss Balfour!"
She blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut. "What do you want from me?"
"Need you even ask? If I have to sit here and watch you destroy Mr. Templeton's life, you might at least reassure me with your favors."
"I would rather lose my job."
"Then start packing," he replied. He released her and gave her a gentle push away from him.
Isabel stumbled into the table. "You can't prove I've done
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