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“It’s incredible how your answers to my questions don’t help me in the least or provide any answers to anything,” she said dryly. It felt as if she were running in place.

The thief laughed quite loudly. “As I said, if your friend were around, nothing would be discussed or answered.”

She stayed quiet this time, hoping this silly conversation would move forward.

“It’s admittedly quite tempting to turn you in—don’t think I haven’t strongly considered it.” He began his slow meander again. “But I haven’t yet because I want to know the nature of your relationship with your friend Ollie McNab.”

“Why?”

The thief held up one gloved finger. “Not your turn.”

Evelyn let out an annoyed sigh.

“I find it curious of all the places in the world, you’re hiding with him. A secret relationship, perhaps?”

“No,” she replied. And then, “Are you turning me in?”

“No,” the thief said, surprising her. Wouldn’t he want to get rid of them quickly and get his reward? “I have something else entirely in mind.”

Unease snaked through her. “What’s that?”

He shook his finger. “Not yet. As you said, there is no secret rendezvous between you and your friend Ollie. And yet, I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

Evelyn began to wonder if the thief was someone known to Ollie. It could explain why he always wore a mask. “Because of his reputation.” This was a guess based upon with the duke and duchess had said during the explosive dinner. She also made sure to state this, not ask as a question.

The thief paused. “Excellent point, but no.”

She waited and fought the urge to ask anything further. He seemed to know something she didn’t. Maybe, if she stayed quiet, he would expand on it.

It worked. “The simplest way I can explain it is, I am a man. I am not young, nor am I old, but I have seen plenty in my lifetime. And I’m an observer. I prefer to watch people than interact with them.”

“Get to the point.”

“I’ve been observing Ollie for some time now. He is interesting to watch. Ollie lives a life I’m envious of. He plays all day at a pub owned by his family. Goes to fancy balls with his insipid grandparents. Beautiful women, rich and poor, throw themselves at him. Life for him is easy and carefree.”

A hot flame ignited in her chest. “You follow him? Is that what you’re saying?”

The Signature Swindler looked at her through the mask with those disturbing, smiling eyes. “He is merely a curiosity. Something fascinating to observe.”

“That is…incredibly creepy.”

“I mean no one any harm.”

“Yet look at me tied up.”

“You’re a runner, lass. And I have only this one chance to talk to you. You gave me no choice.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him again before realizing he had forgotten about their questions game. The thief was more interested in hearing himself talk, it seemed, and she was going to take advantage of this. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

The thief turned his head and looked toward the door. Evelyn looked, too. Had he heard something? Or was he determining how to escape with her?

“I never intended to make myself known,” the thief said. “I was quite content with watching Ollie from afar. But then you came along.”

“You’re mad.”

The man laughed. “Indeed.” He paused. “I have a curious theory, but I must test it first.”

“Lovely.”

“I need you to imagine something for me. Ollie is at the pub working. There’s a beautiful woman there.”

“I don’t care.”

He ignored her and continued. “She has her eyes set on Ollie. She whispers to her friends that she’s finally mustered up the courage to go talk to him herself.”

Evelyn squirmed. Unfortunately, she had a vivid imagination and could see this scenario as if it were real. And she didn’t like it one bit.

“The woman taps Ollie on the shoulder. Ollie turns and sets his eyes upon her. She says something insipid and then giggles and covers her lips with her fingertips.”

Evelyn started pulling at the rope around her wrists, getting angry when she couldn’t free herself.

“Ollie is overcome by desire, by the woman’s beauty, and he puts a hand on her waist.”

“I get it,” Evelyn blurted out, wishing he would stop.

But the thief wasn’t done. “Ollie knows what he wants. He pulls her into an empty hallway and presses her against the wall. His blood is hot, and his c—”

“Stop it!” Evelyn shouted louder than she’d meant. She jumped to her feet, her wrists still secured behind her back. “I swear, if you say one more word—”

“Ah, lass, not another word.” The thief put up both hands in surrender. “You have proved my theory correct, and that’s all I wanted.”

Evelyn was seething now. She clenched her teeth and took several hard steps over to him. She got into his face, met by those infuriating smiling eyes. “What theory is that?”

But the man was hardly perturbed. Evelyn decided he was truly, utterly mad in the most literal sense.

“Did that upset you? My little story? It wasn’t made up. I watched that exact scenario unfold a few summers ago, though I didn’t stick around to see how it ended.”

“Go to hell,” she seethed back.

“You know he’s a scoundrel, Miss Sparrow, don’t you?”

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

“There is something rather curious, though, that may soothe the fire in your veins.”

“Is it me bashing your face in?”

The thief laughed. “No. Curiously, one day Ollie stopped his women-chasing ways. No weaning period, no easing into it. One day, he was a scoundrel, the next, he was as chaste as a saint.”

“I don’t care,” she growled back.

“Ah, but you do. You’re white hot with anger. And it’s because you are mad for the man, aren’t you?”

“No.” Evelyn tried to make her denial hard. But even she could hear how weak it was. “Like you said, he’s a scoundrel.”

“But he’s also told you he has curiously stopped chasing skirts. Didn’t he?”

Again, she didn’t say anything.

The thief suddenly glanced in the direction of a tall shipping box nearby and his eyes smiled again.

He looked back at her and lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Like I said, I’ve been a curious and amused observer of your friend.

And I can confirm he has in fact, stopped his scoundrel ways.

He wasn’t lying to you, lass. And I can pinpoint the exact moment he stopped. ”

Evelyn couldn’t help herself. “When?”

The thief leaned into her ear. “The moment he set eyes on you.”

Evelyn took a sharp inhale. “You’re lying.” The thief was a master of deceit. He was toying with her for his own amusement. He was entertained by cruelty.

“No,” the thief replied, still quiet. “And to take it one step further, you’re madly in love with him, aren’t you?”