Except for him.
Astonished, Henry could only watch as Grace wove back through the crowd toward her family. Incredible that she could move so smoothly, that there wasn’t even the faintest trace of guilt or guile lingering in her expression, that she carried herself with such confidence. As if she knew that no one would ever suspect her of a damned thing.
Hell, he’d watched her do it, and still he could hardly bring himself to believe it. She stood there surrounded by her family, nibbling at dainty little slices of cake, occasionally offering some choice pastry to someone or other—and not one other person had the faintest idea that she had a man’s pocket watch held in her palm just below the plate from which they made their selections.
Henry could almost have made himself believe the whole incident had been an invention of his imagination, except that when the plate was empty at last, and a member of the serving staff swept by to take it from her, she effortlessly palmed the watch once again and surreptitiously slipped it into a pocket concealed within her gown.
A secret pocket, hidden within a ball gown. What manner of womanwasGrace Seymour, exactly?
One with criminal tendencies, clearly.
Holy hell.
Henry’s spine snapped straight, and he shoved himself away from the wall as an odd little tingle of awareness skittered through his nerves. Grace Seymour was a thief. A damned good one, too. Cunning, capable, and confident. Quite possibly one of the best.
And a thief wasexactlywhat he needed.
Chapter Four
Don’t you do it.” Grace fisted her hands on her hips, affecting a stern look as she gazed up at Tansy, who sat in perfect feline serenity upon the garden wall.
Unfortunately, Tansy—who had caused quite a lot of chaos already this morning, beginning with stealing a strip of bacon straight off the dowager duchess’ breakfast plate and culminating with being caught testing the sharpness of her claws upon the drawing room curtains—did not take kindly to orders of any sort.
The cat settled on her haunches, flicked one ear dismissively, and turned her face away in what Grace could only interpret as a direct cut.
“Tansy,” Grace said, forcing the word out between the grit of her teeth. “You must come down from there. There is no telling what his lordship will do if he catches you in his garden again.” Especially so soon.
As if to suggest she didn’t give a fig about his lordship’s threats, Tansy extended her front legs and lifted her rear in a lazy stretch as her jaws opened in a massive yawn. Her great grey tail whisked back and forth as she righted herself and trotted toward the edge of the garden wall. In a single bound she haddisappeared beyond the gate, no doubt on her way to once more avail herself of his lordship’s catmint.
Blistering, bleeding,fuckinghell.
Grace allowed her shoulders to slump as she heaved a sigh of resignation. Perhaps this time would be different. It was still rather early in the day, and as she understood it, most noblemen led rather indolent lives. Quite possibly Lord Lockhart wouldn’t yet be awake, and she could slip in and out entirely unnoticed.
So long as nobody had left a window open.
Her fingers fumbling for the latch upon the gate, Grace slipped out just in time to see Tansy’s fluffy grey tail disappearing around the house toward the street. At least Tansy had enough sense to wait for the lull in the street traffic. The cat waited upon the pavement, her tail curled primly around her front paws until the closest carriage had passed—and then sprang into action only seconds before Grace could reach for her, sauntering across the street in an elegant, agile stride.
Damn it all! Grace was forced to wait at the edge of the pavement for another three carriages to pass, watching in tense silence as Tansy took small, taunting steps past the front façade of Lord Lockhart’s house toward the garden. And with a last mocking flick of her tail in what could only be a flippant farewell, Tansy rounded the corner, disappearing from view once more.
Sending up a little prayer to whichever god might happen to be listening, Grace skittered across the street and past the front façade of the house, swiftly rounding the corner where she’d last seen Tansy.
And there she was, sitting atop the large stone wall, delicately licking one massive paw, as if she had only been waiting for Grace to arrive.
If only Grace had thought to bring something with which to coax the cat down! But she suspected that even another strip of bacon could hardly compete with the vast quantity of catmintgrowing within his lordship’s garden.
Grace planted her hands upon her hips and pressed her lips together in a grim line. How best to approach this problem? Begging hadn’t worked, nor had cajoling, nor threatening. Tansy, like most cats, simply did as she wished.
Which was often whatever she thought would achieve the grandest spectacle of a reaction.
Blast and damn! Grace opened her mouth, struggling to summon up a sweetness to her voice that she certainly did not feel in the moment, and—
A long purple sprig of catmint flowers crested the top of the wall, perhaps five feet away from where Tansy sat. And from beyond the wall, there came a low, masculine voice: “Heeere kitty, kitty, kitty.Nicekitty.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open in mute shock.
Tansy lifted her head mid-lick of her paw, her green eyes fastening upon the twitching sprig of catmint with the ruthless determination of the consummate predator she was. Her ears flattened back against her skull as she coiled herself up to spring.
The catmint flicked out from beneath the crushing force of her paws, disappearing beyond the garden wall. Tansy traced its path with a sharp swivel of her head.
