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Unlikely, based on the hour. At past two in the morning all servants should be asleep.

Only this one clearly wasn’t. And while Samantha briefly wondered why, she decided the question was pointless.

She was seconds away from being revealed by this individual and potentially having to fight them off as she fled.

Hoping to avoid a confrontation altogether, she shoved the door open and entered the room, then pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. However little time she’d bought, it would have to do.

At least the room appeared to be the right one. A wide shape silhouetted against the darkness told her she’d located Wrengate’s desk. All she had to do now was find some handwriting samples she could take with her.

Someone on the opposite side of the door tried the handle. Samantha pushed away from it and crossed to the desk, clenching her jaw against the ache in her knee as she rounded the large piece of furniture. A quick glance toward the window behind it assured her she’d have an easy escape route.

The door shook as the person on the opposite side applied force. Samantha scanned the desk’s surface. Finding no papers there, she opened the drawers. Silence settled around her, allowing her a moment of peace.

Whoever the servant was, she’d probably go fetch the butler next. Or wake their master to alert him of a possible break-in. Either way, it granted Samantha the seconds she needed in order to—

A man’s voice punched through the air. Wrengate’s voice. And then the door rattled against its hinges. Samantha grabbed a fistful of papers without any clue as to whether or not they might aid her, shoved them down the front of her shirt, and spun to unlock the window.

The door behind her crashed open before she’d managed to pull up the sash. A swift glance over her shoulder brought Wrengate’s powerful frame into view. The servant standing behind him, who did indeed have a housekeeper’s appearance about her, held up an oil lamp that lit the duke from behind.

With his face cast in shadow, it was impossible for Samantha to see his expression, but the low growl he emitted while staring toward her was ferocious enough to inform her that he was mad as hell.

“You,” he seethed, nearly causing her to forget her face was concealed.

He’d no idea who she was. Just that she’d broken into his house. A common thief as far as he knew. Provided she left at once.

Her fingers closed more securely around the bottom rail of the window. She pushed upward and felt her stomach drop in response to the tough resistance that met her effort. The window wasn’t budging.

Panic coursed through her, chilling her blood and sending her pulse into a wild rhythm. Damn. No need to look toward the duke to know he was prowling toward her. A predator on the move.

“Alert the rest of the household,” he ordered, sending the servant behind him away and plunging the room into total darkness. To Samantha he said, “I’ll teach you a thing or two about trying to steal from me.”

The amusement lacing his words sent a shiver straight down her spine.

It reminded her that this was the man who had hired a pair of cutthroats to do away with Wycliff.

Not that the crime lord hadn’t deserved to die.

But that Wrengate, a peer of the realm, had been ready to see the deed done said a great deal.

She still had no idea how he’d gotten involved with Wycliff in the first place, only that she had owed Wycliff a favor.

As such, she’d been forced to fight for her life against those cutthroats to save both herself and a man who’d thankfully met his end soon after.

Whether by Wrengate’s hand or another’s, she’d no idea though she would bet money it had been the duke.

Judging from his low chuckle, she had no doubt he’d enjoy the thrashing he hoped to give her. In fact, if he had his way, he probably wouldn’t let her survive it. Which would be his right since she was the criminal here. He was merely protecting his domain.

Nevertheless, she would face him as best she could. She’d seen him fight at Reed’s, had studied his moves. He was rough, liked using his superior size, but he wasn’t swift or nimble. Something she could use against him if need be.

But first…

She unsheathed one of the blades sewn into a channel of her jacket sleeve and held it toward him. Wrengate paused and she knew he was gauging his options. He dipped his chin, his attention moving toward the top of the desk.

Was there a weapon there? A paper knife perhaps? She’d no idea and had no intention of waiting to find out what he was plotting. Not when he knew the room better than she. Her best chance right now was to get out.

Again she yanked on the sash. Again it refused to budge.

“Tends to stick,” Wrengate muttered. “I meant to get it fixed but—”

She didn’t wait to hear him out. Not when she knew he was trying to keep her distracted.

Instead she focused on what she needed. The shouts coming from somewhere upstairs sharpened her focus.

They were accompanied by a rush of footsteps pounding against the ceiling.

It sounded like an army of servants were on their way.

Samantha jabbed her left elbow backward as hard as she could, crashing it through the window. Glass shattered and Wrengate lunged, grabbing the wrist that held the blade. She turned into him, grunting against the pain in her knee as she used momentum to force him off balance.

He fell, slamming them both against the desk and sending her blade flying.

Undeterred by the mishap, she pushed back against the duke, twisting her body away until he was forced to release his hold.

Only for him to grab her hood from behind.

He pulled, but the cloth mask held even as she felt the sharp sting of hair being yanked from her scalp.

She spun back toward him and brought up her knee, then she was on the move while he howled in pain.

Through the window and into the garden without stopping to check for possible cuts.

She’d do that later, once she was free and clear.

Glass shards crunched beneath her feet as she ran, heedless of the pain spearing her knee.

Whatever attention that required would also have to wait.

For now, she had to get away as fast as she could.

A door slammed somewhere and several people shouted.

Merciful heavens, she wouldn’t make it. The garden wall blocking her path was at least as tall as the one she’d trained on at Clearview House. If not taller. And she’d have to get over it now despite being injured.

The air cracked like thunder. Samantha’s heart bounced against her breast. Someone had tried to shoot her and if she didn’t get over that wall, they’d probably make another attempt at closer range. Or drag her back inside to face Wrengate’s wrath.

Bloody hell but she’d rather die than allow that to happen.

So she tore through every discomfort and pain, dislodging the hold it had on her body and forcing it deep beneath the surface.

Gulping down air she quickened her pace, pushing herself into an impossible sprint that sent her directly toward that wall.

A quick prayer was all she had time for as instinct and training took over.

She raised one foot and set it against the bricks at knee level.

Momentum lifted her off the ground, the added jump helping her climb even higher.

Her arm reached, fingers splaying and finally grabbing.

She found the edge of the wall and latched on as hard as she could, then pulled herself up and over.

The angry shouts from the opposite side suggested she’d gained only a brief reprieve.

Soon, Wrengate and his servants would be hunting her in the street.

Unwilling to lose her advantage, she bit down on the pain that was once again starting to gnaw, and ran to the next street corner.

Only the briefest pause let her recover her breath before she set off once more.

Ideally, she’d be scaling a building and making her way onto a rooftop, away from her pursuers.

But there was no way her knee would hold up against such a climb.

Not after what she’d just put it through.

As it was, she’d be lucky if she could walk tomorrow.

So she half-limped toward a shadowy alley and slipped inside, happy to get away from the gas lights lining the street.

The smell of refuse hit, both expected and unpleasant.

She scrunched her nose behind her mask and kept moving.

Home wasn’t far. Less than a mile. It would just take a hell of a lot longer for her to get there when she had to stay off the more direct route. Side streets and back alleys would serve her best if she meant to avoid getting caught.

She reached the end of the alley, waited for a carriage to pass in the street beyond, then crossed behind it and disappeared down a narrow lane. Something up ahead clattered, pulling her muscles taut.

A cat screeched and Samantha relaxed. She continued onward, was almost through to the next street, when a figure peeled away from the shadows and stepped right into her path.