A Lasting Impression

to her mouth, where his focus lingered. Then he looked up at her again, his thoughts easily read. Claire reached out to a nearby urn to steady herself.
    Mrs. Acklen sighed, her mood of a sadder nature this morning. “ ‘Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.’ ” She turned back toward the mansion, and Claire did likewise, wondering if her employer’s tender emotions were due to the LeVerts’ departure, or to something else.
    Sutton offered them each an arm as they climbed the steps. “I’ve no doubt, Mrs. Acklen, that Aristotle had you and Madame LeVert in mind when he penned that notion.”
    Mrs. Acklen smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Monroe. But I’m not quite that old. Yet.”
    He laughed. “You know that wasn’t what I meant to imply.”
    “Of course I do, sir. Because, as we all know, you imply nothing, Mr. Monroe. You state it forthrightly and for all to hear.” Mrs. Acklen glanced over at Claire, her countenance growing a touch brighter. “Miss Laurent is improving her skill in that area. You must be giving her private instruction.”
    Claire felt Sutton’s nudge and her face went warm.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said, hardly missing a beat. “I’ve been working with Miss Laurent on a private basis for some time now. She can be a challenge, as you’re aware. But overall I’ve found the experience to be very . . . gratifying.”
    Her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Claire pinched him through his suit jacket. He smiled as he reached to open the door.
    “Mr. Monroe, will you be going into the office today?”
    “Yes, Mrs. Acklen, I will. I need to get some files, as well as stop by the telegraph office.”
    “I have a letter on my desk for Mrs. Holbrook, regarding a committee we’re on together. Would you take it to her husband, please?”
    Sutton closed the door behind them. “With pleasure, ma’am.”
    Once inside, Mrs. Acklen paused in the entrance hall and looked up at the picture of her late husband. She said nothing. Only stood and stared, as though no one else were in the room.
    Claire shot a look at Sutton, who was gazing at the painting as well. He seemed unbothered by Mrs. Acklen’s sudden reticence, and not the least surprised by it.
    “Miss Laurent?” Her voice soft, Mrs. Acklen’s focus remained unchanged.
    Claire took a tiny step forward. “Yes, ma’am?”
    “We’ll be working in my personal quarters today. We have boxes of letters and cards to go through. I want your assistance in creating something special for Octavia. To present to her at the reception. A book of memories, perhaps, of . . . happier days gone by.”
    Claire curtsied, bowing her head. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.” She looked at Sutton, who gave her a silent nod. “But first, ma’am, why don’t I go down to the kitchen and get you a cup of Cordina’s tea? I’ll bring it up shortly.”
    Mrs. Acklen turned, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That would be lovely, Miss Laurent. Thank you. But wait an hour, perhaps two. I’d appreciate time to rest.” She reached the doorway and looked back. “And do remember to bring a cup of tea for yourself too, when you come.”

    “I’m glad you stopped in, Mr. Monroe.”
    Sutton turned at hearing Bartholomew Holbrook’s voice. “I just came by to get some files and check my mail, sir. I left an envelope from Mrs. Acklen for your wife with the receptionist. But she told me you were out for the afternoon.”
    Holbrook waved for Sutton to join him in his office, then for him to close the door. Sutton did and claimed one of the two leather chairs opposite the senior law partner’s desk.
    “I’m doing my best,” Holbrook said, “to stay out of sight and get some work done.” He held out a file. “An investigator hired by our client dropped this by earlier today.”
    Sutton flipped through the folder that contained another list of cities and dates with titles of art pieces listed beside them. Some, but not all, of the titles had dollar amounts by them. “I don’t want to be pessimistic, sir, but we already have lists like this. We need to identify the people involved.”
    “Yes, Mr. Monroe, but each time they turn up a new city and a new piece of art, that gives the investigators another opportunity to uncover another shred of truth. And it increases their chances of finding this . . . invisible partner who’s coordinating the sales of all these fraudulent paintings, and who knows the people painting them. These are small steps,