by Candace Camp
“Excellent.” He could not keep his mind from going to the thought of her lack of petticoats beneath her skirt, but he pulled it firmly back. “Let’s go down the back way. I’d just as soon not have to explain what we’re doing to anyone in my family—not, of course, that they wouldn’t do the same sort of thing themselves.”
“Won’t the servants wonder?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. But they’re accustomed to our odd fits and starts, as Mrs. Bee says.”
Sabrina cast a doubtful look over at the dog as they walked quietly to the back stairs. “You’re taking Rufus? Isn’t he rather noticeable?”
“He is unfortunately light-colored,” Alex agreed, looking down at the nearly white dog with splotches of dark fur. “Still, who’s going to think someone’s taking a dog with them to break into a house? And he can stand watch for us to make sure no one catches us by surprise. Besides, he knows something is up, and he’d raise such a ruckus when I left there’d be no hope of getting out quietly. I was lucky to get out without Wellington, as well.”
As he expected, the servants cleaning up the kitchen spared barely a glance at them as they passed through. From force of long habit, he filched a scrap of meat from the platter and slipped it to Rufus.
“Stop encouraging that mangy hound, Master Alex,” the cook said without turning around.
“Careful, Gert, Rufus will think you don’t like him,” Alex responded.
The woman snorted, glancing over at them and taking in their appearance. “Looks like you’re the one needs to be careful, Master Alex.”
“I will.” Alex opened the door to usher Sabrina out.
“And don’t toss that poor girl into one of your fracases now.”
“Gert!” He turned back with a mock gasp, placing his hand against his heart in a dramatic way. “You wound me.”
“Get on with you.” Gert waved him away, unable to hold back her grin.
Outside, he turned to find Sabrina watching him. “They’re all very fond of you.”
“They all think I’m still twelve years old.” He reached out and took her cloak from her to drape around her shoulders. Gazing down into her face, he tied the ribbons at the neck. His hands fell away, but he was reluctant to step back. “There, you look suitably stealthy.”
“Oh, I have more,” Sabrina said with a saucy little grin and pulled something from her pocket. “I have a mask!” She lifted the black half mask to her eyes and tied it behind her head.
There was a subtle seduction to the mask, dark and satiny against her creamy white skin, concealing her even as it exposed the curve of her mouth beneath it. She appeared faintly mysterious and utterly desirable, and, with the lilt of her teasing laugh running through him like a fingernail sliding down his spine, all he wanted to do was kiss her.
Fortunately for his willpower, Sabrina stepped back and pulled up her hood. Truth was, this guise only increased the throbbing inside him more, for she looked like a woman bent on a secret tryst. But at least her movement had broken his momentary trance, enabling him to pull together his scattered thoughts.
“Well...” Alex cleared his throat. “Let’s be off. We’ve a crime to commit.”
Chapter Eleven
THEY STROLLED ALONG the street, Rufus trotting happily beside them. Aside from his first impulsive dash down the block when they left Broughton House, the dog stuck close to Alex’s side, only occasionally stopping to examine some particularly appealing scent.
The evening darkness wrapped around them like velvet, hushed and foggy, with streetlights creating warm pools of golden light along the way. In the distance, he could hear the clip-clop of horses’ hooves and the rumble of wheels as some carriage rolled down the street, but here he and Sabrina were alone together in this strangely intimate atmosphere.
She had her hand tucked in his elbow, and he matched his longer stride to hers, separated by mere inches. She was close enough that her perfume tickled at his senses, making it difficult to think. The thought of her dabbing on perfume to go break into a house was absurd, but he was glad she had done so, even as distracting as it was.
It was not far from Broughton House to their goal, and he saw it now in the block ahead. “There it is.” He kept his voice low. “It’s in the next block, the second house on the opposite side of the street to us.”
“The white house with black shutters?”
“Yes, that’s it.” He waited for some sign of recognition from Sabrina, but there was nothing, even in the emotional presence of her that lay quietly in the back of his brain. He had sensed a hum of excitement in her from the moment they left the house—it was beginning to feel normal to be so aware of her—but it heightened only slightly in anticipation when she saw the house. He had the disappointing suspicion it was not her home.
They walked past the house and turned up the small walkway between it and the next home. Alex had picked up a lantern from the gardener’s shed in back of their house, but he had not lit it, the glow from the streetlights being adequate. But as they walked into the inky passageway, he stopped to light the lantern, shutting down all the sides except one, which he kept only partly up. It was just enough to cast a glow in front of their feet and keep them from stumbling.
“What if someone sees us?” Sabrina whispered.
Alex glanced over at the neighboring house. “I doubt they will. No lights in the rooms upstairs. I imagine the servants are too busy to look out here. But if they do, well, we’ll just have to brazen it out.”
“You can brazen out forcing a lock?”
“I imagine so. If not, I suppose we’ll have to run for it.” The prospect of excitement was beginning to fizz in his blood like champagne. It had been a good while, he reflected, since he’d had an adventure. He grinned down at her upturned face. “Don’t worry. If it comes to that, I’ll just have to knock him out.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened a little. Alex had to fight an urge to lean down and kiss her.
They reached the door at the far end of the house and Alex set down the lantern, lifting the shield a little to cast more light on the lock. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a small leather case and took a couple of slender metal tools. He went down on one knee and slipped the wires into the keyhole. Sabrina stood behind him, her skirts hopefully blocking the dim light from the street.
He had just heard the sweet click of the lock turning when Rufus, patiently waiting, suddenly made a low noise deep in his throat. Alex dropped the shield on the lantern, concealing the light, and at the same time stuffed the tools into a pocket. He sprang to his feet, turning to look down the walkway.
A sturdy figure came into view, the hat on his head identifying him as a bobby. He was strolling along with an air of unconcern, no doubt walking his nightly route. Still, at any moment, he might look this way. Quickly Alex wrapped his arms around Sabrina, pulling her in close against him and burying his face in her neck to conceal the telltale paleness. “Shh. A bobby.”
They waited, listening to the sounds of the man’s footsteps. Alex was intensely aware of Sabrina’s body in his arms, her heat and softness, the tantalizing scent of her perfume filling his nostrils. Her breathing was rapid, her breasts pressed against him. The danger of their position seemingly only added to the enticement, heightening every sensation, every emotion.
As the bobby’s footsteps faded into the distance, they remained as they were, arms still clamped around each other. Alex lifted his head and looked down into her face. She was gazing back at him, the hood falling back a little on her head to frame her face perfectly. Her eyes were soft and dark, unreadable in the dim light. Alex stood for a long moment, thinking of all the obstacles and cautions that separated them, the many reasons he should let her go.
He bent and kissed her.
Her lips yielded to him, more than yielded—she answered back, her mouth hot and eager. Her arms went a
round his neck, and she pressed up against him, her lips clinging as hungrily as his. Her kiss was heady, intoxicating, shattering his composure and sending all his careful thoughts into oblivion. All he could think was how much he wanted her, how good it was to taste her, how much more he could feel.
He slid a hand beneath her cloak, finding and caressing the soft mounds of her breasts. She made a soft noise of surprise against his mouth, followed by a far more sensual moan. When his mouth left hers to explore her throat, she sagged against his arm, turning her head to expose her throat to his kisses.
“Here, now, what’s going on?” A man’s loud voice cut through the haze of their passion, and they sprang apart, turning toward the man standing a few feet from them in the open doorway of the house next door. Light spilled out of the room behind him, silhouetting him and making it impossible to read his face, but his voice marked him as a servant of the house rather than the master. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“Stay here,” Alex murmured and strolled forward, pitching his voice toward the other man. “I don’t see that it’s any of your concern.” His voice fairly dripped with hauteur. Carefully he stopped outside the light from the doorway; it would not do his pose of aristocrat any good if the man saw Alex’s attire.
“It is if you’re robbing that house,” the other man retorted, though his voice lacked a good deal of its former conviction.
“Well, it is my house now, so I’ll thank you to go back inside and let me get on with viewing it. What is your name? Who is your employer?” Alex disdainfully looked the smaller man up and down. “Is he aware that you have the habit of accosting his neighbors?”
“I... Uh, what?” The man goggled at him, his face now filled with uncertainty, and he slid back a step. “No! I mean, beg your pardon, sir, but I thought you was, you know, a thief. No one lives there.”
“Well, as you can see, I am not. And my friend...” His voice changed on the word, infusing it with a smug innuendo, as he glanced back at Sabrina’s obviously feminine shape. “Mrs. Blackwell will be living here now. You will doubtless find she is a most...retiring neighbor, and I am sure you will treat her with the utmost respect.” His voice hardened on the last statement and, giving the man a short, sharp nod, he swung around and walked back to Sabrina. In a softer voice, yet one that still carried clearly to the man behind them, he said to her, “Don’t worry, luv, he won’t bother you. No one crosses the Viscount Chumley. Now...where is that blasted lantern?”
Ignoring her astonished expression, he bent down and raised the shield on the lantern so that it shed more light on the situation without really illuminating their faces. Hoping he hadn’t been wrong about hearing the lock turn earlier, he reached out and turned the doorknob, breathing a silent sigh of relief when it opened easily. Stepping back, he ushered Sabrina into the room before him, and Rufus trotted right after them. Alex turned to close the door and saw the other man’s back as he went into his house.
Alex snapped the lock closed and turned to lean back against the door, letting out an explosive breath.
“Alex!” Sabrina was staring at him, her fists on her hips. “I can’t believe you said that to him. You made it sound as if I...as if I was—”
“A woman of dubious reputation being set up as a lord’s mistress?” he asked, quirking a brow.
“Yes!” She began to laugh. “I don’t know whether to be offended or impressed.”
“No need to be offended. I did make you an important woman of dubious reputation—Chumley’s a viscount.”
Her laughter increased. “Is there a real Chumley?”
“I’ve no idea. I just imitated a chap I knew at Oxford.”
“How did you know to do that? I was sure we were caught. I had visions of the duke having to come bail us out of jail.”
“Now, there would have been a sight.” He smiled. “I suspected the fellow would back down if I was haughty enough. He couldn’t know, you see, if the house had just been let or sold. What footman’s going to want to get into an argument with a viscount? The trick was not to answer his questions, as if I was in the wrong, but to turn it back on him. Arrogance and disdain will usually carry the day.”
“That’s wicked.”
“Well, yes,” he agreed. “But it does come in handy. Now we won’t have to worry about someone next door seeing our light through the drapes—they know we’re exploring our new abode.”
“My new abode, you mean,” Sabrina amended with a grin. “You, obviously, will remain living with your wife, like the cad you are, all the while keeping your mistress in style.”
“My dear girl, you wrong poor Chumley. Doubtless Chum had to marry a cold, haughty heiress to save the family estate from ruin, dooming him to a loveless life.”
“Chum?”
“That’s what his mates call him.” He grinned, enjoying the sound of her laughter.
“You’re incorrigible.” Sabrina turned away, casting her gaze all around. “Well, nothing seems familiar here.”
“I wouldn’t think the kitchen would. Let’s explore further.” He raised the shield on the lantern a little and poked his head into the small rooms attached to the kitchen. “Storeroom. Scullery. Ah, here’s the butler’s pantry leading through to the dining room. Rufus, sit. Guard.”
The dog whined but sat down, ears pricked alertly. They made their way through the lower floor of the house. The furniture was mostly concealed under dustcovers, giving it the vaguely eerie atmosphere of a house long unoccupied. There were few decorative items to be seen, aside from the paintings on the walls, to give it a feeling of people living there. One wouldn’t leave any personal items, he supposed, in a house that was rented out to strangers, but it was discouraging to his hopes of gaining information from the place.
To Alex’s senses, it had the bland, muddled feel common to public places. Alex tried to lay his hands unobtrusively on as many items of furniture as he could, but he picked up no sense of the people who had lived here or the events that had happened. It was his experience that only the most recent or sharpest, most impactful of emotions were absorbed into objects. Something dear and personal, such as the man’s pocket watch, was most likely to retain some feeling of him; he had probably carried it near to his heart for years on end. But with unimportant items, especially those used by many people, there was little to work with. Still, Alex walked through all the rooms, doing his best to open his mind to any stray sensation that might come through.
Sabrina trailed after him. “Who owns this house? Why is it empty?”
“I’ve no idea. All I know is what the neighbors told Tom—its owner is gone and it has been leased the last few years to different families.”
“Gone? He died?”
“Or moved away. Or sold it. Tom is going to look into the records tomorrow.”
She glanced all around. “It seems rather sad, doesn’t it?”
“A bit,” he agreed, walking down the hall to the next room. It was large, a formal drawing room, he supposed. Sabrina, coming in behind him, let out a gasp. Alex whirled to face her. “What? Did you see something? Remember something?”
“No, not exactly.” She was gazing at the large painting that hung over the mantel. In it, a lovely woman with dark hair was seated on a bench in a garden. “I just... I don’t know. It startled me. I’m not sure exactly why. But I—I can’t put a name to her. I can’t even say that I feel I know her. It’s just... I felt something.” She frowned, then made a dismissive gesture. “I can’t really explain.” She sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not much use.”
“No, that’s fine. We’ll figure it out.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. It seemed only natural to keep her hand in his as they made their way down the hall.
The next room contained empty bookshelves and a desk that proved to be equally empty. A comfortable leather chair sat behind the desk. Alex rested his hands on t
he back of the chair, and here he felt something faint and indefinable. But it was the same presence that he had felt holding the pocket watch. Here, at least, the man still lingered, confirming Alex’s belief that he had been the master of this household. But who was he? It was maddening to find the place cleared of papers or possessions that might identify him.
Sabrina, letting go of his hand, walked around the perimeter of the room, peering at the artwork. He joined her, holding up the lantern to illuminate the paintings more clearly. On one wall was a map, reminding him of his uncle, but there were no useful pins or markings on this one. Next was a pen-and-ink drawing of an impressive church.
He bent closer to peer at it. “I don’t recognize this church. Do you think—”
“Oh, that’s Wells Cathedral.” Sabrina moved on, then stopped and swung back to him, her eyes wide. “How did I know that?”
“The same way you know any number of things. It’s general knowledge you acquired sometime in your life.”
“Do you think I’m right? That is Wells Cathedral?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen the place. We can look it up when we get home. But why would you say that if you didn’t recognize it? The thing is, if you recognize this, it’s familiar to you for some reason.”
“Did I live in Wells?” she asked, her voice rising in excitement. “Did whoever owned this house? Is that why he had the drawing?”
“I don’t know. But I think the artwork on the walls, like the furniture, probably belonged to the original owner and is left here for the tenants.”
“Do you think I knew whoever owned this house? That woman in the painting?”
“I hate to jump to conclusions, but it certainly is possible. Even likely. I don’t remember if Uncle Bellard mentioned it, but Wells is one of those towns that one could go to from Bath.”