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Rivendale studied him carefully, skepticism clear in his gaze. But after a moment, he exhaled through his nose and said, “How can you possibly help?”

Art rubbed his beard. “Have you any idea how valuable it is? Perhaps—”

“Priceless,” Rivendale cut in.

For a brief moment, Art thought he heard pain in his voice.

“I meant its market value,” Art clarified. “If someone stole it, they probably did so to sell it. If we know what it was worth, we might be able to—”

Rivendale suddenly lifted a hand, his brows furrowing.

“Something is going on in the hallway,” he muttered.

Art paused. Listened. There was noise coming from beyond the door.

Then—a knock. Twice.

Rivendale raised a brow.

“Expecting more guests?” Art asked.

“Not at all,” Rivendale replied, looking genuinely puzzled. Then he barked, “Come!”

The butler reappeared. “Miss Melissande Monroe and Miss Lydia Lawless,” he announced.

“What?” Art muttered, shooting to his feet.

“I thought you said she was innocent,” Rivendale noted dryly.

“She is.” Art’s voice was tight. “I don’t know what she’s doing here.”

“And she brought the abomination with her,” Rivendale sighed, sounding tired.

Art scowled. “Abomination?”

Why should he feel offended on behalf of the woman who had ruined Lydia in the first place? Perhaps he sympathized with her—because, like Lydia, she was an outsider, surviving the best way she knew how. Or perhaps… Perhaps something tugged at his heartstrings because she was, after all, his sister.

Rivendale exhaled sharply. “Let them in.”

The butler bowed and stepped aside.

Lydia entered first, and Art immediately strode toward her, taking her hands in his. “What are you doing here?” he whispered furiously.

“If you had waited and not run off on your own, you would know!” she hissed back.

“You’ll excuse me for not standing to greet you,” Rivendale drawled from behind them. “Please, take a seat.”

Lydia shot Art a look. “What did you tell him?”

“That you’re innocent. And I was on my way to fix everything for us before you showed up.”

“Good.” Lydia nodded and tugged him toward the desk. “And I brought proof.”

Art helped Lydia and Miss Monroe into their seats, then pulled up a chair beside Lydia.

Rivendale leaned back.

“Wakefield has almost convinced me of your innocence, Miss Lawless.” He gave a slow, deliberate look at Miss Monroe. “And yet here you are, consorting with criminals.”