Her cheeks were rosy and her smile was genuine, not the sardonic smile she so often wore. Mrs. Denver was sorry to be the bearer of unhappy tidings, but trouble had arisen during her charge’s absence, and it had been preying on her mind since Lord Maundley’s call an hour before. Before Francesca even removed her bonnet she was called into the saloon, where a white-faced Mrs. Denver greeted her. “What is the matter?” she demanded at once. “Not Papa! He isn’t sick!” “No, my dear. You had another call from Maundley.” “Oh, that!” she scoffed. “He as well as accused you of stealing the necklace. He says if it is not returned immediately, he will hand the matter over to the authorities.” Francesca felt a trembling inside. “Let me see the letter,” she said, and reached for the ominous paper. She unfolded it with trembling fingers and read the curt note. “I have taken consultation with my solicitor, who advises me I am within my rights to demand immediate return of the Maundley necklace.
