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“T his place is very strange,” Evelyn said while looking around.

There wasn’t enough light. Only a few candles provided a soft, golden glow in the room, but the corners remained dark and shadowed.

She quickly walked along the long wall, eyeing each painting.

Ollie kept close, which she found comforting rather than irritating, despite his teasing of her.

It was easy enough to explain away, though—the last time they’d been around the Signature Swindler, the thief had taken her for a short time.

Something she didn’t care to relive, even if she didn’t think he would hurt her.

“I don’t recognize any of these paintings. ”

“Really?” Ollie replied, genuinely surprised.

“I assumed these were stolen.” As they stopped, he became engrossed in one of the deep-green landscapes and Evelyn studied the way shadows played across the sharp angles of his handsome face.

Coupled with the top hat and frock coat, it gave him a severe look.

Funny how he seemed to transform, becoming almost ominous, when they snuck around like this.

As if he were the night, or mischief itself. It fit him, in a strange way.

“I thought they were stolen, too,” Evelyn said.

She returned to the haunting painting of the woman with black hair.

For some reason, this one felt different than the others.

Maybe because it was the only portrait. The other paintings were scenes around London or emerald-green, rocky countryside, sometimes with water and distant hills and mountains.

It was a place she didn’t recognize. “None of them have signatures, either.”

“Is it possible you don’t know every single painting housed in London museums?” Ollie asked, tipping up his hat to reveal a roguish brush of a grin.

Evelyn frowned back. “Please be serious, Ollie.”

Ollie laughed.

“Well, no matter,” she continued. “No one seems to be here, or wants to emerge .” That last bit was said loudly. “Let’s find our painting and get out.”

Ollie agreed and together, they began looking around the room, scanning the paintings hung up. When they didn’t find it there, they moved on to those carefully leaning against the wall.

Some of these, however, she did recognize. A few she had conserved herself. She looked closely, and the invisible repairs only she would have been able to locate were absent. They were copies. It seemed this was all a joke until she came across a door.

“I don’t think we should go in there,” Ollie said.

“Why not? He told us to come here, didn’t he?”

Ollie clearly was not keen on the idea but sighed and opened the door for her. “After you, wife,” he said again with that roguish grin that turned her into putty.

Evelyn flushed again at being called that.

Every time he called her his “wife,” butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

A warning. It was of utmost importance she keep away from him.

That she didn’t become tempted by him, that she didn’t give in to the pleasure his gentle touch gave her.

The last thing she wanted, needed, was to wonder what passion Ollie could ignite in her.

Nor did she want to admit that she was definitely in love with Ollie, like the blasted thief had said.

She could easily give in if she didn’t keep her wits about her.

Then again, if Evelyn finally accepted and admitted she was in love with Ollie, she could keep her head on straight a lot easier knowing her weakness.

Fine. She was in love with Ollie McNab. Absolutely madly in love with him. He was gorgeous, he was kind, he was funny, loyal, hard-working, optimistic. His smile destroyed her every time. His touch sent electric jolts through her body.

Ollie seemed to think that once her parents found out she had married him, that would be the end of everything.

But she knew it wouldn’t be. They wouldn’t roll over and give up.

Papa would be furious that she’d married a working-class man, even though he was the third grandson of a duke and duchess.

And he would be even more furious she had been hiding at his home, even though they had married.

But how the earl would react, she still wasn’t quite sure, other than knowing he would sue for breach of contract.

“Are you all right?” Ollie was looking at her, worry etched into his frown.

She gave a noncommittal answer and stepped through the door. “Ollie, look,” Evelyn said with wonder. “It’s a studio!”

As she rushed forward, Ollie made sure no one else was in the room. Evelyn, meanwhile, came upon a large easel with a stool in front of it and two paintings side by side.

One of them was the Fragonard that had been stolen from the Bethnal Green Museum. And the other was an exact copy of it.

But which one was which?

“He’s an art forger!” Evelyn exclaimed as she spun around to Ollie. Without thinking, she grabbed his hands, too excited by her discovery, and had to keep herself from jumping up and down. “That’s what all this is about! He copies paintings then sells them as the real deal to na?ve wealthy people!”

Ollie cocked his head and studied the twin paintings. It took a moment, but he eventually said, “Oh! Well, that does make sense, doesn’t it? But didn’t he only recently start lifting paintings from museums?”

She waved him off, unconcerned by this inconsistency. “Quick, let’s find ours and get out of here.”

They separated to hunt down their Gustave Courbet. This was a bit different from the gallery-type room next door. Here, there was an old, leather sofa and an unmade bed with a lamp next to it, all sitting in the middle of the floor. It was odd but, the thief himself was odd.

Evelyn turned to call Ollie, who had his back to her when a hand clamped over her mouth.

Next thing she knew, she was being dragged out the door and back into the gallery room.

The door slammed shut and as Evelyn struggled against the thief, the man locked the door with a key just as Ollie began pounding on the other side, shouting her name.

As Ollie slammed into the door trying to break it down, the thief kept his hand over her mouth and said, “Struggle and this will take longer than necessary.”

Of course, Evelyn wasn’t going to comply. The point of her elbow shoved into his stomach as hard as she could muster, and the thief crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

Shocked by the power she’d exhibited, she stared down at the masked man, who clutched his stomach.

“ Póg mo thóin .” The thief groaned weakly.

Evelyn snarled at him. “What does that mean?!”

“Kiss my arse!” He rolled onto his back. “You are a devil woman, you know that?”

“Better a devil woman than an art thief!” Evelyn shouted over Ollie’s knocking. “Ollie, I’m fine. I got an elbow to him!”

“Good girl!” Ollie shouted through the door. “Now unlock the door!”

“Wait,” the thief said while clambering back up to his feet.

Evelyn looked between the door and the thief. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, curiosity won. She held up a finger. “You have one minute before I let him in.”

The man’s dark eyes grinned through the holes of the dark-blue mask, the small stars on it mocking her. “Congratulations on the nuptials.”

Evelyn frowned and crossed her arms. “Why did you force us into that?”

The thief chuckled through his gasping breaths.

“Fine, I’m letting him in.” Evelyn took a step toward the door.

“All right! All right.” The thief took a few more deep breaths. “I was curious to see if you’d go through with it.”

“We didn’t have a choice!”

“You always have a choice.”

“You wouldn’t have given us back the painting.”

“Have I given it back yet?”

Annoyed to be stumped, she crossed her arms again. “No. I presumed that was why we were summoned here.”

“So, you two decided getting married was a better choice than losing the painting. Even though its effect on your lives is far greater.”

“Evelyn!” Ollie called through the door. “Open the door!”

She ignored him for the moment because she wanted to see what the thief was trying to get at. “I suppose. So what?”

“It means you two wanted to get married, deep down.”

She scoffed. “No. It means you gave me an out from getting married to the earl, and we’ve agreed to separate as soon as possible. And then, I will never be forced to marry anyone else. I’ll be free.”

A long pause. “What?”

She gave him a mocking grin. “See? You’re not the only one who can weasel their way out of things.”

The thief didn’t move. “You married my—I mean, Ollie to get out of marrying the earl.” The thief let out a breath. “Of course.”

Her arms fell to the side. Something about this wasn’t right. “Isn’t that why you got the witnesses together and sent us all to the church?”

The thief studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. He didn’t answer her question. “So, if I understand correctly, you married Ollie so you legally couldn’t marry anyone else.”

“That’s right.”

“No one else will want to marry you because now you’re famous for being the runaway bride and your reputation will take a huge hit from the quick marriage and divorce.”

She nodded.

The thief pinched his mask’s chin. “How did your family take the news?”

“They don’t know yet.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be telling them at dinner tomorrow.”

“When is dinner?”

“Why, so you can continue to watch Ollie? Like some miscreant?”

The thief was quiet for a long moment. “I was asked to watch him.”

Evelyn was skeptical. “By whom? His brother? Wait, are you a private investigator?”

“No. I won’t tell you, but I will tell Ollie. If he wants to know.”

Silence settled between them as Ollie called out to Evelyn. She ignored him again. Something was happening, but she didn’t know what just yet.

“Lass…” The thief finally broke the silence. And spoke in an oddly gentle voice. “Have you finally admitted that you love Ollie?”

She shifted. “That’s none of your business.”