Page 55 of His Improper Lady

Here was where the most danger of discovery lay, where the servants lived and might be awakened. Desiree stopped and expanded her awareness, focusing on the possibility of danger. No dart of alarm arrowed through her chest; there was only a sense of emptiness.

Desiree opened the lantern a sliver, and they crept down the dark hallway and up the narrow servants’ stairs to the floor above. This should be the safest area, with the owners’ bedrooms on the floors above. It was a narrow house and thus easy to find the front parlor.

As they started across the hall beside the main staircase, there was the sound of a cough from the floor above. Desiree and Tom stopped and melted back into the shadows beneath the staircase. Desiree immediately covered the lantern, holding it behind her skirts. They stood in complete silence for several long minutes, but there was no further sound from upstairs and no light appeared.

They slipped out and crossed to the parlor, casting a wary glance up at the stairs. Inside the parlor, they didn’t close the door behind them—the squeak of the cabinet door that had awakened Tom fresh in their minds—but went immediately to the fireplace.

The fireplace was set into bricks, as Brock had described, confirming their theory that this was indeed the house he remembered. Setting down the lantern at their feet, they began a swift search of the bricks to the left of the fireplace, tugging and pushing to no avail. They turned to look at each other. Desiree frowned in consternation.

“What if someone who lived here later sealed it up?” Desiree whispered.

Tom thought it was better not to suggest that it had never been here and Brock was mistaken, or they were in the wrong house. Instead, he pointed to the other side of the fireplace. “Maybe he didn’t remember correctly. It’s been almost thirty years.”

They moved to the other side of the fireplace. Desiree took the strip beside the hearth and Tom concentrated on the higher areas that she could not reach. Nothing moved. As Desiree turned away, Tom shifted aside, bracing his hand against the mantel. There was, he realized, a small circle of wood that protruded a little on the underside of the mantel. He brushed his thumb over it, following the contour, then, acting on instinct, he pressed it. The circle of wood went up into the mantel, and on the other side of the fireplace there was a scraping sound, brick against brick.

Desiree whirled and hurried toward to the opposite side. There, two joined bricks now stuck out an inch from the others. Even in the dim light, Tom could see the gleam in Desiree’s eyes, and his own breath came faster. Desiree pulled out the set of bricks and handed it to Tom before raising the lantern to peer into the hole that had been revealed.

Her hand trembled as she reached in and pulled out a rectangular wooden box.

CHAPTER TWENTY

DESIREE’S HEART THUDDED wildly in her chest. She’d hoped, but she hadn’t dared to really believe they would find anything. She clutched the box in both hands, emotions whirling through her, paralyzing her in an uncharacteristic way.

Tom slid the brick back in place and picked up the lantern, then took her arm and started toward the door. Desiree went with him, happy to let him take the lead. Tom peered out the long, narrow window beside the door, looking up and down the street, then quietly unlocked the door and opened it. He followed Desiree out, easing the door closed behind him.

Desiree had recovered her senses enough that she was already hurrying down the steps. It had made sense for Tom to choose to go out the front door even though they would be in the light of the streetlamp for a moment; that bit of exposure to an empty street was less dangerous than traveling back down through the servants’ hall, where someone might wake up and see them. But it was prudent to move out of the circle of lamplight as quickly as she could.

Tom was right on her heels, both of them stopping to cast a look all around after they stepped beyond the light. Desiree had a vague sense of uneasiness, but she could see no movement on the street in either direction. She was just jumpy from the storm of excitement, hope and fear that the sight of the box had engendered in her.

They started up the street. Desiree clutched the box tightly to her chest, her arms wrapped around it as if it were a baby. Neither of them spoke as they crossed the road and turned right onto Sussex Street. They were moving in the direction of Victoria Station, where they were more likely to find a cab even at this time of night. They crossed George Road, as darkly silent as the other streets they passed.

Suddenly a shock of alarm ran through Desiree, a dark tangle of tension knotting her stomach. She whirled around, just as a dark shape hurtled out of the night, straight at her. Tom jumped to the side, pulling her with him, but the man grabbed the box from Desiree’s grasp and charged past them down the street.

“No!” Desiree shrieked and ran after him, but Tom quickly passed her, gaining on the man. His quarry threw an anxious glance behind him and turned toward Warwick Square. Tom ran across the street at an angle that cut off more of the man’s lead, recklessly ignoring the carriage rolling toward him. He caught the thief as he reached Warwick Square, leaping forward to take him down to the ground. The box flew out of the man’s hand and skidded into the street.

As the two men grappled on the ground, Desiree ran for the box. It didn’t break as it tumbled across the pavement, and she grabbed it up, coming back to Tom, who had hauled the other man to his feet.

“Who are you?” Tom shook him. “Who sent you?”

“Let go of me.” The man wobbled but said defiantly, “I don’t have to tell you nothing.”

“You bloody well will.” Tom drew back his fist, but Desiree laid a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“There’s no need,” she said. “I recognize him. He’s one of Falk’s men. I saw him there the other day.” She turned to him. “Tell Falk I don’t have his blasted envelope. I didn’t find it. This isn’t an envelope!” Desiree held up the box, shaking it. “I’m not looking for the envelope. I have no idea where it is, and I don’t care. Falk is wasting his time having you follow us around.”

The other man sneered, jerking out of Tom’s hold, which had relaxed. Tom grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him forward, his voice cold and hard. “Stay away from us. I’m letting you go now so you can give Falk Miss Malone’s message. But if I catch sight of you anywhere near her, I promise you, you won’t be walking again anytime soon.” He shoved him back. “Now get out of here. Tell Falk that if he doesn’t stop, it’s him I’ll be coming after.”

The man backed up sullenly, wiping the blood from his nose. “Big talk.”

Tom’s eyes lit up and he started forward. Falk’s man turned and ran. Tom muttered an oath and turned back to Desiree. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I didn’t fall. I’m afraid the box isn’t in as good a condition.” She ran a finger ruefully over the scratch. “But at least it didn’t break.”

The rest of their walk was without incident, and they managed to hail a hackney when they reached Vauxhall Bridge Road. “At least we know now who was having us followed,” Tom said as they settled into their seats. “Obviously this chap was better than the one the other day. I didn’t spot him—which is something of a blow to my pride, even if he was a professional.”

“I didn’t see him, either. He’s no brighter than the other man if he mistook this for an envelope.” Desiree once again cradled the box against her chest. “But...what about the cuff links you took off the other man? The ones that said Pax?”

Tom shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Nothing about this case makes sense. If Pax is one of Falk’s men, I can’t see how it could be the gentleman Brock remembers being a friend of your father’s.”