Page 36 of To Heist and to Hold

Heloise carefully replaced each paper, making certain they all appeared undisturbed before sliding the desk drawer closed, letting loose a silent sigh as she did so.

“Damn and blast,” she swore softly, looking about the dark room, eyes scanning the dim interior for anything else she might have missed.

But no, every possible place of concealment had been gone over.

And now there was no other room in this hall to search.

Over the past hour, since her stealthy arrival at Dionysus at noon, she had worked her way through all the offices in this section of the club save for Ethan’s, offices she assumed were used by the other partners, richly appointed rooms that showcased the personalities of their owners.

Like this one, done up in rich greens and burgundies and gold accents, a luxurious place that could belong only to Mr. Teagan.

Going through each in turn, she had searched every drawer, every cupboard, every possible hiding place.

To her utter frustration, however, the jewels were nowhere to be found.

But at least now she knew where they were not and could focus her attentions on other areas of the club, she told herself bracingly.

Filled with a new determination, she moved for the door and opened it a crack, peering out and glancing down the long hallway.

As all the times before, it was empty, quiet.

Letting loose a slow breath, she slipped out, closing the door carefully behind her.

Then, reaching into her bodice, she pulled the slender picks from her corset.

Euphemia had crafted the cunning columns of fabric in the undergarments specifically for the Widows’ more advanced lock-picking tools.

Working quickly and nimbly as Iris had taught her, she inserted the picks in the lock, maneuvering them until she heard the faint click of the mechanism that secured the door again.

But it brought her no relief. She told herself her unease was simply due to being unable to locate the gems. The clock was ticking ever closer to Julia’s deadline, after all.

And with her sister-in-law’s wan face still fresh in her mind, the fear that Heloise would fail her was acute, a freshly whetted blade slicing her bit by bit.

Yet she knew that was not her only source of unease.

Against her will, she glanced back along the hallway, pressing her lips tight in frustration as her gaze snagged on Ethan’s door.

Just as she had each time she had left one of the offices and stepped into the hallway, she felt the pull of something deep within her, like a cord behind her navel, urging her to go to him, to climb into bed beside him and forget her troubles in his arms.

There was a heavy thump in her chest, rattling her ribs and leaving her breathless.

She pressed a hand over it, as if she could force the unruly organ beneath into submission by pure will alone.

She had decided after Julia’s visit that she must distance herself from Ethan as much as possible, and her body’s unruly reaction was proof of why she should.

She had begun to see him as something more than the means to an end, the tool that she would use to save Julia.

Without her realizing it, he had opened something deep inside her that she feared she would never be able to close again.

And it frightened her. She rubbed her chest, blinking back a sudden moisture in her eyes.

Yes, she was prideful. But she was not so prideful that she could not admit—to herself, at least—that she was frightened of the emotions he dredged up in her.

She had gone through life knowing she was not wanted, knowing she was replaceable.

And she had acted accordingly, keeping herself distant from everyone, hardening her heart into a shapeless lump, like the scrap metal in her forge.

But then Ethan had come into her life, had taken hold of that petrified, cold mass of iron, and like Hephaestus had plunged it into a fire until it was malleable, molding it and shaping it until she could no longer identify it as the ugly thing it used to be.

As if to attest to that, her heart gave another lurch in her chest. Blinking back tears, she scowled down at her chest, as if she could shame her heart for betraying her.

Then, concealing the tools in her bodice again and pointedly turning away from Ethan’s door, she started off down the hall.

She had managed to complete the day’s task without being discovered, but she was tempting fate by standing here, mooning over something that could never be.

She would return to the Wimpole Street house and convene with the Widows to plan what was next…

all while leaving her emotions firmly out of it.

She had not taken two steps, however, before the unmistakable sound of a door latch caught her ear.

Before she could take a breath, much less look for a place to conceal herself, the door at the end of the hall swung wide to reveal Mr. Isaac Sinclaire, with an expression on his face that did not bode well for her.