As if by unspoken accord, they resumed their journey through the dim corridor.
“I meant to inquire,” Jasper murmured, nudging her elbow with his. “How came you to be so proficient with a blade?”
Grateful for the dim light obscuring the flush that no doubt stained her neck, Maria hummed. “All runners in our offices must complete training before they accept their first client. We learn both societal rules and expectations of household staff, as well as fundamental skills in spy craft, basic fighting tactics, and weapons usage. My trainer, Mr. Greene, was superb, and I daresay we shall lament the loss of his instruction.”
Ahumphof surprise escaped him as they passed a parlour and music room and ascended the staircase to the next floor. “So many skills in so little time.”
Maria shrugged one shoulder. “Yes. We learn merely the essentials at first, as we are meant to continue training and sparring to gain skill as time passes. Grace—that is, Miss Huntsbury—will oversee instruction until a permanent replacement is found.”
“If Miss Huntsbury is experienced and knowledgeable in such things, why not continue teaching the women herself?”
The candle in a nearby sconce flickered as Jasper and Maria passed, rounding a corner beyond guest bedchambers and toward the last flight of stairs.
“Miss Huntsbury has many duties: supervising the women and our cases, managing finances, arranging resources, and supplying our required paraphernalia. Adding to her daily activities is ill-advised.”
“Quite so. An admirably diligent and talented woman.” Jasper was silent a moment before he whispered, “Much like yourself, I imagine.”
Had Jasper justcomplimentedher? Astonishment faltered Maria’s footsteps and sped her pulse. The wordwoman—despite its accurate signifier of her sex—felt wrong, rather like an itchy coat that was too small, but the intent behind his words was flattering, indeed.
The attic’s door loomed before them, and Maria forcibly redirected her thoughts.Francis. I’m here for Francis.
The fluttering of nerves that erupted in her stomach matched the racing of her pulse. She clutched her unsheathed dagger and stood poised to attack as Jasper reached for the door’s latch.
Snick.The latch caught, and with a whirl of stale air and a swiftcreak, he pulled the door wide.
CHAPTER12
While it had been some time since Jasper had ventured into his attic, and the lightingwasdim, nothing seemed out of place. Old pieces of furniture draped with white material were piled before the wall that separated this storage space from the servants’ quarters. Paintings were braced along the wall that connected his home to his neighbours—the baron and his wife—and musty rugs were rolled up in the middle of the space.
“Damn.” Disappointment crashed through Jasper and sat like a stone in his stomach. For a moment, he’d been so certain.
The shaft of moonlight shining through the dormer window caught Maria’s thoughtful gaze.
“While we weren’t attacked upon entrance, Francis might still use this space,” she murmured, striding past him into the room. “Come, let us investigate further.”
His lips quirked and he did as he was bid. There was a reason this clever woman was in charge, after all.
Starting with the paintings, Jasper tilted first one and then another, noting nothing of interest—but for the damaged frame on the likeness of his great-uncle. He leaned them back in place and rubbed his fingertips together.
“The maid in charge of dusting up here is to be commended,” he noted.
“Mmm,” Maria hummed, the floor creaking as she bent to inspect the furniture under a cloth. “In that we agree.”
Crossing through the shaft of moonlight, Jasper felt along the rolled rugs—nothing—then turned his attention to the dormer window. The latch was aged and stiff, but it was secure.
“I’ve found nothing out of place,” Maria said, straightening from her examination of another bunch of furniture.
“Neither have I.”
“Blast.” She sheathed her dagger, striding toward him. “We had best check the cellar.”
Reaching for his hand and rising on her toes, she pressed a soft, warm buss to his shortly-whiskered cheek. Hell, but his heart stumbled into a gallop at the light contact.
“Yes,” he returned. “The cellar.” He nodded, absently following the decidedly remarkable woman from his attic.It will soon beherattic, too, his inner voice whispered. Damn, but he wanted that. She was ambitious and wholly desirable. How had he not recognized it before?
Unable to keep away from her, he brushed the back of his hand against hers as he matched her pace in the third-floor corridor. And a jolt of—hell, he couldn’t name the feeling, but it was entirely addictive—raced up his arm to settle somewhere in his chest.
Maria cast a sidelong glance at him, an erotic flush riding up her neck from beneath the fichu of her maid’s costume. And his cods tightened.
