Page 33 of How to Fall for a Scoundrel
She nodded. “I think we should search the bedrooms.Willingham won’t have hidden the book anywhere guests might venture, like the library, or the drawing room.”
“Agreed. He and his wife keep separate apartments, on the floor above.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“Rule number six:Always talk to the servants.”
“You have rules?”
“For thieving? Of course.”
“What are the others? How many are there? Do all thieves have them, or just you?”
He tapped her fondly on the nose. “So many questions, Miss Law, but now is not the time. I’ll tell you another day.”
The sound of music grew fainter as they ventured farther along the hall. A footman carrying a tray laden with wineglasses rounded the corner, and they ducked into a room containing a billiard table to avoid being seen.
They reached a second stairway without encountering anyone else, and Ellie lifted her skirts as they ascended the stairs, careful not to trip on the beautiful green silk.
The upper hallway was clear, but her heart pounded with the threat of being discovered. Harry opened the second door on the left and slipped inside, drawing her behind him, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them with a satisfying click.
The room was dark, and empty; the doorway to an adjoining room was faintly visible in the pale gray moonlight.
As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she could see the walls were lined with shelves of leather-bound books. A few gilt-framed paintings hung in the gaps, and a heavy wooden desk was positioned at an angle to the door.
“This is Willingham’s private study,” Harry whispered. He released her hand, and she mourned the loss of warm contact. “His bedroom’s through there.”
“I’ll—” Ellie froze as a soft, yet very distinctthudsounded from the adjacent room.
She shot wide, panicked eyes at Harry. Someone was in there!
Harry clearly thought the same. But instead of retreating, to her horror he slipped silently through the doorway and disappeared into the gloom.
A succession of more muffled thuds followed, then a faint crash, as if a wordless altercation were taking place. Ellie glanced around the study, desperately looking for something to use as a weapon, and snatched up the brass fire poker that stood to the side of the fireplace. She rushed through the doorway to see Harry and a dark-clad figure wrestling in the moonlight.
Harry’s arms were wrapped around the stranger’s head, but the other, stockier man had him around the waist. As she watched, the man issued a grunt, swept his leg around the back of Harry’s knee, and the two of them toppled sideways onto the mattress of the four-poster bed that stood in the center of the room.
Harry let out a low growl of frustration. His assailant twisted his ear in a painful-looking move, but Harry retaliated by tugging the man’s hair, then elbowing him in the stomach.
Ellie didn’t dare try to help. The two of them were rolling around so much, they were just a blur of limbs; she was just as likely to accidentally strike Harry as she was to hit his opponent.
“Oof! Get off, Harry, you great popinjay!”
Ellie stilled at the unexpected sound of the stranger’sdeep voice, as did Harry. The fight on the bed came to an abrupt end.
“Hugo?”
Harry released the man and sat back, astonishment evident in his tone.
The stranger pushed himself off the bed and stood, panting with exertion, then, to Ellie’s amazement, he started to laugh.
“Damn me, I must be getting old if the likes of you can ambush me! You’ve still got a cracking right hook, my lad.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ellie glanced from one man to the other in confusion.
“Harry, do youknowthis man?”