Ian paused, thinking. “Given the pair’s history of petty crimes, I just find it hard to believe that they’d engineer this whole thing themselves. I suppose it’s possible, though.”
“I’d hardly call the attempted kidnapping of the Henes heir a petty crime.”
“Exactly my point,” Ian murmured. “I doubt they were the main instigators of that one, either. Although considering the whole thing was botched, who knows?”
“Well, they’re dead, so I suppose we’ll never know the full truth. Ian?”
Ian blinked. He realized he’d been scowling, lost in thought at his grandfather’s words.
“Are you still worried about Francesca’s safety?” James asked, his forehead furrowed.
“Always,” Ian admitted before exhaling. “But at least I’ve taken back control of the company, and hopefully she’s been moved out of the limelight.”
James nodded. “She’s a very beautiful woman. Match her eye-catching looks with the thought of millions of dollars of ransom money, and there’s bound to be some sickos out there who scheme up havoc like this. Brodsik and Stern must have seen that photo of her in the papers and conjured up the idea.”
“That’s what Markov and the police in Chicago are thinking,” Ian said distractedly.
“Well I’m just glad to have it in the past. It’s good news, what Markov told you. We should share it as soon as possible. Maybe I’ll take everyone out for dinner tonight in town.”
“I don’t think the furor has died down sufficiently yet,” Ian said dryly. “The entry road is swamped with media vans.”
“I know, Cromwell has informed me,” James said, referring to the security guard at the front entrance with a weary wave of his hand. “They’ll give up and go home soon after they get bored enough.”
“I plan to address the press again. Not about the investigation, per se,” Ian added when he saw James’s dubious expression. “That’s the police’s arena. I need to make a general statement, though, assuring that everything is steady with Noble Enterprises and that the threat is well contained. I’ll do it in London. I was waiting for the results of Markov’s investigation, but now that I have that, I can’t put it off any longer,” he said, feeling a bizarre mixture of determination and ambivalence. It was like his rational brain was telling him he needed to get on with his duty to his company and his mission in regard to Trevor Gaines, but his body was protesting, wanting to stay, longing to remain at Francesca’s side. He inhaled when he noticed James’s slanted brows, steadying himself . . . hardening his resolve. “Lin is insisting I need to move on another press conference, but I’d already realized the necessity. Here I was hoping to show my face to the public, quell any doubts about Noble’s leadership and show the steadiness of the ship, and all hell breaks loose while I’m doing so.”
“When will you go to London?” James asked, sitting forward in his chair.
“As soon as I can pack.”
“Well,” James said briskly, “if you leave as soon as possible, perhaps you’ll be able to take care of business and return to us for the New Year.”
“No,” Ian said evenly.
The single syllable rung like a struck drum in the quiet room. He hated the flash of alarm that crossed his grandfather’s features.
“What do you mean?” James laughed uncomfortably. “You’ll be several days? A week?”
“I’ll do the press conference later this evening. It won’t take long. But I won’t be returning to Belford Hall in the foreseeable future. I need to return to what I was doing, Grandfather. I must. Everything here—everything that’s happened—doesn’t change that.”
He waited tensely. He hadn’t told his Grandfather specifically what he’d been doing during his absence, merely saying he’d needed time to himself to regroup and examine his life after the death of his mother. He knew perfectly well that Anne and James knew it was more than that, although they weren’t sure precisely what his motives were. Like Francesca, he knew his grandparents wouldn’t approve, however, so he’d saved them the pain of worrying.
“But . . . Francesca,” James said weakly. “Are you taking her with you?”
Expose Francesca to the dark, dirty, shameful house of a pervert? “No. I’d never want her to see where I’m going. Never.”
“Ian—”
“You’ll keep her here, won’t you? Make sure she’s safe?”
“I can’t keep her here, Ian! She can make up her own mind where she wants to be,” James said incredulously.
“I’ll speak with her first. I’ll ask her to stay, as a favor to me. She has to work on the painting anyway. Isn’t the canvas being delivered today?” Ian asked smoothly.
James sighed. He knew Ian’s tactics to avoid difficult topics all too well. “Yes, it’s being delivered as we speak,” he admitted, despite his scowl. “Anne is having them set it up in the reception room, since there’s plenty of room there for Francesca to work, and we don’t use it much. Francesca was insisting upon the canvas being delivered to the cottage—she can’t get a view when she’s inside her subject. I knew you wouldn’t want her out there alone until everything is settled, though, so I contradicted her.”
“Thank you,” Ian said pointedly. “Because you and Grandmother care about her so much, I’m confident leaving her with you.”