Purposely ignoring how the rough baritone of his voice ran along her skin like a physical touch, Heloise dipped her head.“As I was saying, not only was Mr.Teagan concerned that you eat, but the maid who brought the food tray was quite at ease with you.There was no lowered head, no scurrying away, no fearful look in her eyes.”She gave him a triumphant look.“You can tell much about a person by how their employees act around them.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded emphatically.“It is.”
“So let me understand this,” he said, the slight quirk to his lips deepening, softening his features even more.“Because of the actions of one maid, you have come to the conclusion that everyone at Dionysus is loyal and cares a great deal about me?You must be a novelist.Your imagination knows no bounds.”
“You may laugh if you like,” she replied archly.“But it is plain as day to me.”
“Oh, I have no desire to laugh.In fact,” he continued, leaning toward her, “I find it fascinating.You have a unique way of seeing the world, Mrs.Marlow.”
Why was it, she thought a bit wildly as his face came closer to hers, so close that she could see the warm brown in the dark depths, that her heart was beating so much faster?It felt as if it would be only too happy to burst out of her chest.Taking a steadying breath, she replied, “I have had a unique life, I suppose.”
“I do believe I would like to know more about that ‘unique life’ of yours,” he murmured.“It must have been interesting indeed.”
It was only when Heloise felt the peculiar sensation of falling headfirst into his intense gaze, wanting to tell him everything he wanted to know and more, that she finally realized the danger she was in.What the devil was she doing?She was supposed to be seducing him, getting into his head and his bed.She was most assuredlynotsupposed to make him wonder who she was and why she was here—or actually want to reveal it all to him.That way lay only danger, for her and the rest of the Widows, not to mention Julia’s increasingly dire future.
“Oh, it is a boring story, to be sure,” she said, taking on that husky tone again.Leaning closer, so close she could feel his breath, still sweet from the bit of pastry he had eaten, caress her face, she let her hand run up his sleeve.“Not like your own.How fascinating it must be.But wehave some time; won’t you tell me about it now?”
Surely such a ploy would work.Euphemia had been quite adamant that men reveled in talking about themselves above all else.That, combined with her rather blatant flirting, and Mr.Sinclaire should be a puddle at her feet.
To her bafflement, however, it seemed to have the very opposite effect.At once his features closed up, the new openness gone in a blink.He physically drew away from her as well, his body angling so far from hers she would not have been surprised if he fell out of his chair.
“Your food grows cold, madam,” he said, frost settling over his voice, turning the words into unforgiving sleet that stung as they hit her.“Shall we finish our meal and get back to work?”
With that he turned to his own nearly finished plate, and though they still sat next to one another, Heloise felt as if the whole of the ocean had suddenly flooded the space between them.Frowning, she returned to her seat and tucked into her food.But though moments before she had been fairly salivating with hunger, now it took every morsel of effort to take even a bite, the still-warm eggs and tender ham like sawdust in her mouth.Since her husband’s death, she had tried so very hard to make amends for her part in his passing and to honor his last wish by protecting Julia.Yet time and time again she had failed.And if she could not recover those jewels—which, if she could not get Mr.Sinclaire to let down his guard, seemed more than a possibility—she would fail yet again.Her fingers tightened painfully around her fork.And that she could not do, not with Julia’s life on the line.
10
Failure, however, seemed imminent as, not ten minutes later, Heloise was practically booted out of Mr.Sinclaire’s office.What a blasted mess.
Face flaming, she fought the overwhelming urge to duck her head and hurry back to the ground floor.Instead, she forced herself to slow her pace, eyes furtively scanning every nook and cranny of the bright and surprisingly welcoming hall.She could not pass up this opportunity to take stock of this portion of the private area of the club.Goodness knew when she would get an opportunity like this again—if ever.
But even as she made a mental list of all she saw, from the number of doors to the placement of the windows to the light sources, she could not put from her mind the look of disdain on Mr.Sinclaire’s face when, after the disaster of a meal was over, the man had summarily dismissed her.No, not just dismissed; he had appeared as if he would gladly pack her bags and send her off to hell.
Her feet faltered and then stopped on the runner as she dropped her face into her hands, letting out a muffled groan.And things had been going so well, too.Or, at least, she had thought they had been going well.During that short interlude when she had let her mask drop, in a misguided attempt to comfort him, he had seemed to respondto her.For the first time since meeting him, she felt she had seen through the rough, unwelcoming veneer to the man beneath.And she had begun to respond to him as well.She blanched as she recalled the effect he’d begun to have on her, her skin tingling and her heart about to gallop out of her chest.But no, she would not think of that.She needed to focus on the change that had come over him when she had returned to using the skills Euphemia had taught her to assist in seducing the man.
She dropped her hands, turning to frown at a bucolic painting of brilliant green pastures bookended by towering trees on the wall beside her.His attitude toward her had most definitely changed the moment she had begun to use those feminine wiles again.But could that possibly mean that he preferred her when she was being herself, and not the femme fatale she had thought she needed to be?
She snorted a laugh.Of course the man would not prefer her natural personality.That was preposterous.Shaking her head, she made it the rest of the way down the hall, slipping through the door that led to the staircase and the lower floor—only to freeze before her foot had descended even one tread.Just as she closed the door, submerging herself back in the rich, opulent extravagance that marked the rest of the gaming club, the light from the hall caught ever so briefly on a bit of metal on the far wall of the landing.
There were burnished gilt sconces here, of course, gas lamps turned low, as well as all manner of richly appointed frippery and opulence.Yet there was something about that small flash of metal that snagged her attention.It appeared like nothing so much as the handle to a door.
Frowning, she paused and bent down.Yes, it did indeed appear to be a handle, right in the middle of the wood paneling.A quick perusal of the wall, her fingers runninglightly over the polished wood, revealed the definite delineation of what appeared to be a door.
Blinking, she straightened.A hidden door.Which could mean only one thing: This area of the club was not a place most people were typically invited.
Heart pounding, Heloise cast a glance down the dark stairs to make certain there was no one about before, taking a steadying breath, she reached for the handle and gave it a careful turn.
It made not a sound save for the slightest click of the latch releasing, the hinges no doubt carefully oiled.The door swung inward, revealing yet another hall, this one darker and more richly appointed than anywhere in the club she had seen thus far.It was adorned with a plush runner as red as blood, velvet-topped benches, and all manner of gilt-framed paintings depicting Greek gods in various states of undress and merriment.Legs shaking beneath her, feeling as if she were walking into Hades itself, she stepped into the hall, letting it swallow her up, carefully closing the door behind her.
For a long moment she stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe, listening.But even the work of the carpenters one floor down was a mere echo here.Unnerved by the quiet, she peered down the hall, making out not only more doors but also a dark opening on the far right wall, perhaps a continuation of the corridor.She swallowed hard, wondering just how vast this place might be, wishing that she had a ball of thread to lead her out to safety, like Theseus in King Minos’s labyrinth.Unconsciously reaching for the collar of her pelisse, she found a bit of strength when her fingers came into contact with the blade hidden there.Then, jaw set and senses on high alert, she moved down the hall.
With utmost care she tried the handles of the two doorsclosest to her.Each, however, was locked tight, refusing to give even a bit.She exhaled in frustration, biting back a curse.If only Iris were with her.Her talent for picking locks was unmatched; she would be able to access the rooms without a problem.But though Heloise had learned a thing or two about lock-picking, and in a pinch could use the specially made pins in her hair to gain entry to just about any room, her skills were nowhere near on par with Iris’s.Such a thing would take time, and that she did not have; while there was no one about now, she did not know how long that might remain true.She had to hurry if she was to take stock of this place.Giving the doors a furious glare, she continued on, pausing at the turn in the hall, peeking around the corner before slipping around it.
She had not taken two steps, however, before she heard deep male voices rumbling in conversation.And they were coming from the stairwell behind her.
Breath stalling in her chest, Heloise pressed her back against the wall, head tilted and ears straining.Mayhap it was yet another vendor here to meet with Mr.Sinclaire.But her small half-hearted prayer was dashed as the voices suddenly grew clearer, louder, and she realized that wonderfully silent door that had assisted her just moments ago had been opened and the men were, in fact, coming her way.
