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Davis Hurst lived on a bustling street where the houses were small and tightly packed but neatly kept. She walked past it on the opposite side of the street, studying the house from beneath her eyelashes. It looked no different than any of its neighbors, and no less difficult to enter. At the end of the street, she turned and went down until she found the alley that led behind the row of houses, to see the rear entrance. Then, her errand complete, she walked on to the market in Covent Garden.

It was convenient that the street in front of Hurst’s home was so busy. She could walk up and down all day without drawing much notice. A small house like that, with only a bachelor living in it, couldn’t have many servants, and likely some of them went home at the end of the day. He didn’t have a cook, she knew; they had learned he dined most nights at his club. A valet, perhaps a footman, would be the only people at home tonight if Hurst held to his usual pattern. With his key in her possession, it wouldn’t be hard to get inside.

The trickier part would be finding anything helpful. Just by nature of what he did, Hurst probably took some pains to secure his papers. On the other hand, he appeared to have a great deal of arrogance, and arrogant men were usually careless. She must be sure to check the obvious places first.

When she walked past the house on her way home, fresh blackberries in her basket, she studied the windows. Even at this hour, the shades were still drawn. She wondered how Mr. Hurst was feeling this morning, if the lump on his head ached fiercely enough, and smiled to herself. It served him right for trying to take advantage of a woman.

She went around to the back of the house in Varden Street and let herself in. She left the blackberries in the scullery for Lisette and went up the stairs to her room. It should be a simple job tonight—or perhaps a very brief one, if Hurst decided to stay home—but one must still be careful. It would be easiest if she went alone, but Nate would most likely insist on coming, especially after last night at Vauxhall.

She kept her mind resolutely away from what happened after Vauxhall. That would only muddle the issue and be a significant drain on her concentration. She slipped the shawl from her shoulders and opened her door.

Nate was waiting there, sitting on a chair facing the window. Angelique stopped abruptly in the doorway, and he glanced her way. “How was your walk?”

“Refreshing.” She closed the door and went to the wardrobe to put away her shawl. “And yours?”

“The same,” he said, watching her with idle interest.

Angelique waited, but he didn’t ask where she had gone. Nor did he volunteer where he had gone, but she accepted that. It was only fair that she not make demands on him, if he did not make demands on her. He just sat there watching her with those cool green eyes and an unreadable expression. She crossed the room to the window and drew the curtains fully open.

“It’s a lovely day,” she said, looking out at the street. The sun was bright and the sky was clear, even if the air had a faint chill in it. Autumn was coming.

“Indeed,” he agreed.

Angelique kept looking out the window even though there was nothing to see. It meant she didn’t have to face him. It galled her that she was unsettled about facing him at all, after what had happened between them last night. This morning. Just a few hours ago, just a few feet away from where she now stood, staring blindly out the window.

Angelique was not accustomed to feeling this way. How wretched that she was the one who felt awkward and unsure, while he sat there cool and composed. She should turn and go on as if nothing had happened. She should carry on as if things were exactly as they had been. They were still working for different people, with different goals in mind. Going to bed with Nate didn’t change any of that; it couldn’t. She had resolved to carry on as if nothing had changed, but now that he was here, his gaze almost a physical touch on her back, she found it wasn’t as simple as she had expected.

“When are we paying Mr. Hurst a visit?” he asked.

“Tonight.” Angelique pushed all her jumbled emotions aside and turned to him. “I am perfectly content to go alone.”

“No doubt.” He was a man of few words today, it seemed. So much the better, she told herself in aggravation.

“I saw the house this morning,” she went on. “It will be no trouble to get in. One presumes he keeps his documents close at hand. Men like him do not usually trust others.”

“Nor should they. Men like him don’t inspire trust.” He tilted back his head to look up at her as she finally turned to face him. “I expect you have it all planned.”

“I have his key,” she reminded him. “That makes things considerably easier.”

“What if Hurst doesn’t go out this evening? His head may still ache from the very large rock that struck him last night.”

“If I could have found a larger one, I would have used it,” she said coolly. “As it was, I was defending my virtue and had no time to search.”

“My dear, I make no objection to you bashing in his head, whether your virtue was at stake or not.”

“Good. Then we do not need to argue about it.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Were we arguing? I thought I was being agreeable.”

He was, damn him. “If he does not go out this evening, we will simply go later. And before you ask,” she added as he looked about to speak, “I will be armed with more than a rock tonight.”

A faint smile crossed his mouth. “No doubt,” he said again.

“Is that all you can say?” she snarled. “Have you no helpful suggestions? I have already been out to see the house and plan how we will get inside. What have you done today?”

As soon as she said it, Angelique wished it back. It was ill-tempered, rude, and unfair. She had no idea what he’d been up to this morning, but not in her worst mood could she accuse Nate of being unhelpful. He had treated her far better than she had just treated him, and even now when she snapped at him, he still didn’t snap back. She drew a deep breath and let it out. “Forgive me,” she said more calmly. “That was wrong of me.”

Nate rose. “Apology accepted. You must be tired today, and that’s my fault.” He walked toward her, and she felt her face warm as his eyes met hers, deep and pure and knowing. “Prince will be returning to the ship. His work here is just about completed, and it will be more convenient to have his laboratory already stowed aboard when we locate Dixon. We notified the captain this morning. A cart and some men will come this afternoon for his equipment. And… I went to get you a gift.” He put his hand into his coat pocket and took it out.