“Seven seconds?” He tried to count them out in his head, but the time seemed interminable. “Is that…good?” Henry ventured doubtfully.
“Well, the lock was devilishly difficult,” she said, those soft lips pursing into an offended moue. “Most locks aren’t nearly so challenging. Probably I could pick even an unfamiliar one in half the time. Unless—I don’t suppose your uncle’s study is on the ground floor?”
Henry shook his head. “Third, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, well.” Grace let out a sigh. “I suppose it was too much to hope that I could simply slip free the window latch from the outside. But I don’t climb particularly well, so I suppose I’ll have to pick the lock after all.”
And that was half the problem. He was going to have to get her inside the house. Preferably by way of invitation. It was simply the safest…
He nearly missed another step as a thought occurred. “How did you know?” he asked, perplexed. “About his study, I mean to say. How did you know where he would—”
A tiny cant of her head. A glimmer of amusement warmed her green eyes. “Where do you keep things of similar importance?” she asked.
“I—oh.”Hell. Henry rolled his shoulders in a sheepish shrug. “In my study, I suppose.”
“I’ve never met a man who didn’t. They think themselves quite clever sometimes, with their hiding places of varying degrees of ingenuity. Safes hidden in walls behind paintings, or strongboxes tucked beneath floorboards and such.” Her voice dropped low again, to a throaty murmur that lifted the hairs at the nape of his neck. He knew, logically, it was meant only torender her voice unintelligible to the couples that swirled around them—but the earthy sensuality of it was impossible to ignore. “Once, I burgled the home of a man who had built a number of secret compartments into his desk. He must’ve thought himself very shrewd indeed, but I am afraid it did not stop me from making off with a number of things I’m certain he’d have rather kept.”
Henry had always considered himself a man of steadfast moral principles. By all rights, he ought to have been aghast at the admission she’d made. Perversely, it made his heart pound in his chest and his blood run hot in his veins. How deeply did that wicked streak of hers run, and why did he find it so oddly compelling?
Perhaps because she had shared that tidbit with him in the sly, crafty tones of a long-held secret—hersecret. And now his, as well. One thing more which bound them inextricably in this intrigue he’d dragged her into alongside him.
“I have no doubt but that your talents are extraordinary,” he said. “But the first obstacle will be to get you into the house.”
“I’ll find a way,” she said blithely. “I always do. If you would only provide me the address.”
Provide her the address! “What, and send you in alone? To an unfamiliar house filled with any number of servants who might be skulking about, any one of which might call the law down upon your head in moments?” No, absolutely not.
A little crinkle of confusion settled between her brows. “Why not? Mama always did.”
For some strange reason, it felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his gut. She’d alluded to her mother’s indecency once before, and this new revelation had not particularly come as a surprise. But neither was it welcome. “I am not going to send you into such a dangerous situation alone,” he said, and heard the odd ferocity lying heavy beneath the clipped words. “That isto say, I will not reward a favor of this magnitude with such blatant disregard for your well-being.”
Her eyes widened, green irises nearly eclipsed by the stark black of her pupils. “My well-being? Since when are you concerned for my well-being?”
Since he’d asked her to risk it. Since she’d agreed so readily to aid him, despite the aversion he’d shown for her in the past. Since she had kept his own secret, just as he’d promised to keep hers.
Since always, if he were honest with himself. How long had it been since he’d last been honest with himself? He had not, as a general rule, made a habit of speaking untruths to anyone. But he’d lied a great deal to himself.
Henry pitched his voice low, bent closer to ensure his words would stay private. “How long has it been since you’ve burgled a house? Stolen anything more than a trinket?”
“I—well, I suppose it’s been some time,” she admitted ruefully. “Eight years, more or less.”
Eight years. And still her fingers were more nimble than his could ever hope to be. “I am not your mother. Iwill notsend you in alone, under any circumstances.” Not even to save his own skin would he risk hers. “Besides, you’ll have a much better chance of success if you’re an invited guest.”
“An invited guest!” Her laugh was a trickle of sunshine, bright and sparkling. “Your uncle would never.”
“No. But Aunt Alicia would. And she’s having a dinner party a few nights hence.”
A fabulous arch of those golden brows. “Oh,” she said. “Oooh. That’s quite clever, really. Cunning, even.”
Probably he shouldn’t have taken pride in that praise. It wasn’t the sort of thing he was supposed to enjoy; the suggestion that he had proved himself a competent cohort in such nefarious undertakings. But hewaspleased. Just a little.
“I hadn’t thought of it,” she said slowly. “But when one is an invited guest, one might wander without rousing too much suspicion. Get turned around and happen upon a corridor in which one ought to have no business.”
Yes. Precisely. The staff who would certainly have sent for the police had she been caught wandering the halls when burgling would simply direct her back to the public areas of the house did she happen to be caught sneaking about as an invited dinner guest. No one would suspect her of anything more than a poor sense of direction.
And if she was half so good with her fingers as she claimed to be, there was every possibility she would never be noticed at all.
“So we’re in agreement, then,” he said. “You’ll come to Aunt Alicia’s dinner party, and I will do my best to find you the opportunity you need to do what must be done.”
