Chapter 4

I said nothing. If anything, I was gentler than usual. I even brought up our plans after we got the marriage license, playing the part of a woman who trusted him completely.

The next morning at breakfast, in front of both Barnaby and Penelope, I let it slip on purpose: "The ancestral original of the Soothing Incense recipe is in the hidden compartment in the study. It's not really safe there."

"Once the showcase business is settled, I'll rent a safe deposit box at the bank and store it away, so I'm not fretting over it every single day."

"Tonight I'm going to Hal's place to talk through re-doing the evaluation. I'll probably be back very late. You two watch the house. Don't wait up for me."

Barnaby smiled. "Sure. Be careful on the way. Call me anytime if anything comes up."

Penelope nodded along, the picture of sweetness. "Don't worry, Lucille. I've got the house. I'll lock every door and window."

I looked at their flawless expressions and laughed to myself, cold inside.

Such a good performance. It'd be a real waste if they didn't go into acting.

After dark, I pretended to head out with my bag, circled around the mouth of the alley, then slipped quietly back in through the small door at the rear courtyard and hid in the nook beside the study.

The nook had a carved lattice window, just enough to see everything in the study clearly without being spotted.

The courtyard was silent, nothing but the chirp of insects.

I waited about half an hour before I finally heard soft, careful footsteps.

The door eased open, and two figures came in, one behind the other.

Barnaby and Penelope, just as I'd thought.

"Quick, where's the compartment? Did she really put the original in there?"

Penelope kept her voice low, but she couldn't hide the excitement in it.

"That head of hers, everything she's thinking is written all over her face. A few words and it came right out of her."

Barnaby's voice had none of its usual warmth now, just a trace of contempt and satisfaction. "It's behind the bookshelf, the third brick. Press it and it opens. I saw her open it once before."

I'd only shown him once, back when we'd just started dating, mentioning an old family rule in passing. I never imagined he'd kept it in his memory all this time, holding onto a thought like this.

A soft click, and the compartment opened.

Penelope let out a low cry of delight. "Found it, it's really here, this is the silk manuscript!"

"Careful, don't damage it. This is the money tree."

Barnaby's voice went eager. "Once we have the recipe, we file for the patent first. And once we get the marriage license next week, this atelier becomes joint marital property."

"Then we transfer it into the company's name, all above board. No one can say a word."

Penelope's tone carried a spiteful glee. "After you've got the license, how do you plan to get rid of her? You can't just let her keep the lady-of-the-house spot forever."

Barnaby's whole face turned cold. "How else? Come up with some reason. Say she's paranoid, that she's moving assets during the marriage. Take it to court and leave her with nothing."

"A woman clinging to a run-down atelier. Strip away the Henson Atelier name and she's nothing, she can barely feed herself."

Penelope laughed, her voice thick with jealousy she couldn't hold back. "You have no idea. I've been jealous of her since we were kids."

"Why was she born the young mistress of the Henson Atelier? Why does she get all of it, the ancestral craft, the rare medicinal ingredients, more money than she could ever spend?"

"How am I any less than her? Why do I have to live under someone else's roof, reading her moods to get by?"

Barnaby's face went tender. "Of course you're better than her."

"Once this is done, you're the lady of the Henson Atelier. The money from mass-producing the Soothing Incense, we split it down the middle."

"By then, what won't you be able to have? Designer bags, a big house, take your pick."

Penelope said, all sweet reproach, "Then you'd better keep your word."

"To help you, I stole ingredients, swapped the exhibit, and played the good little disciple in front of her every single day. I'm exhausted."

Barnaby smiled, eyes crinkling. "You've worked hard, baby."

"Once we have the recipe, we won't have to watch her moods anymore."

"If it weren't for this recipe worth billions, I'd have laid it all out to her long ago. You really think I like that untouchable, holier-than-thou act of hers? Bores me to death."

The two of them stood in front of the compartment, trading lines back and forth, laying out every scheme, every plot.

From three years ago, when Barnaby staged a chance meeting to get close to me, to Penelope seeking him out to conspire, from stealing rare ingredients and pocketing the money, to swapping the sample at the showcase to ruin my name. Every single thing was a heavy blow.

My body trembled faintly, not from grief, but from disgust.

Three years of feeling. A bond from growing up together since childhood. And from beginning to end, it had all been a carefully planned con.

I'd treated them like a fool, giving them everything in my heart, while they'd had me figured out cold the whole time.

Just as they took the recipe and turned, satisfied, to leave, I pushed open the door of the nook and walked out.

"What are you two talking about? Sounds lively in here."

They whipped around, and the instant they saw me, their faces went bloodless, like they'd seen a ghost.

The silk recipe dropped from Penelope's hands to the floor. She stared at me, eyes wide and round, lips trembling. "Lucille? Weren't you going to Hal's? How are you here?"

Barnaby was frozen too, forcing a dry little laugh onto his face. "Lucille, why are you back? We came to find an old text, looking up some material on incense recipes."

I laughed coldly. "You need my hidden compartment to look up material? Do you think I'm an idiot?"