Page 37 of To Heist and to Hold

Mrs. Marlow, I did not expect to see you here at this hour.”

That makes two of us. Heloise smiled, though it felt stiff on her face.

She had wanted to quickly get in and out without meeting anyone.

No matter that she had an excuse for being here, both as Laney’s manager and as Ethan’s lover; the fewer eyes on her, the less worry about being suspected should things go awry.

Even so, she should not feel this level of unease. She had always found the younger Mr. Sinclaire a pleasing, good-natured man. Now, however, he looked almost dangerous as he considered her from the hallway door—a position in which he essentially trapped her.

“Laney wished me to check in on the boxing venue,” she explained with a calm she didn’t feel. “While here, I thought I would visit Ethan.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If she had not been watching him so closely, she might have missed it. The hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end.

“And did you manage to see him?” he asked.

The question was lightly asked. But there was the slightest tension in his voice that snagged on Heloise’s attention, like a burr on clothing.

“No,” she replied evenly, even as her mind whirled at a dizzying speed to formulate a reply that would assist her in slipping out of the snare Mr. Sinclaire seemed to have laid for her. Though the question burned in her mind: Why was he setting a trap?

“I had hoped to,” she continued, “but I have not.”

There. Simple and truthful, something Ethan could corroborate if need be.

As long as Mr. Sinclaire did not continue to question her, of course.

Which he looked about to do. She steeled herself for whatever was to come; by the looks of it, she would need to not only keep her balance like those long-ago tightrope walkers but have the dexterity of the acrobats as well.

Before he could open his mouth again, however, a hulking figure came up behind him, a shadow in the stairwell.

By instinct she reached up, fingers finding with practiced ease the thin blade in her collar, gripping tight the grooves in the hilt, ready to pull it free…

Until the second figure stepped into the hallway, and the light pouring in through the windows revealed a very familiar, very dear face.

“Ethan,” she breathed quite without meaning to, hand dropping to her side.

“Heloise?” He frowned in confusion before the expression melted away, to be replaced with something warm that had her insides melting as well. “I didn’t expect you until this evening.”

“I wished to see you,” she replied, shocked to realize how very true it was. And not only because the threat of Mr. Isaac Sinclaire was well and truly neutralized. No, she wanted to see him just because it was him .

His eyes, those dark, hard eyes, softened considerably. Without taking his gaze from her, he reached out and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

In an instant the Isaac Sinclaire she had come to know was back. He grinned, a lopsided thing that set his eyes to sparkling. “Say no more,” he quipped. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“That you are not,” Ethan murmured.

Mr. Sinclaire laughed. Then, sketching a bow, he took his leave.

Equal parts relieved that she had escaped his too-knowing gaze and shaken that the encounter had happened at all, Heloise looked to Ethan, prepared to school her features into a look of pleasant unconcern.

That plan, however, quickly flew out the window as, with the click of the hallway door signaling they were quite alone, he wasted no time in striding toward her, pulling her against him, taking her lips with his.

And she did not recall what she was supposed to be doing for a very, very long time.

“Heloise. Heloise!”

Heloise started so violently that the papers in her lap slid off and fell to the ground.

Flushing furiously—after the interlude with Ethan that afternoon, the last thing on her mind was this latest meeting with the Widows—she dropped to the floor and gathered the pages into a messy pile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Sylvia gave her a long look. The woman had to know something was amiss with her.

She had, with increasing frequency lately, been giving Heloise that very same look, one that asked far too many questions for Heloise to be at all comfortable with.

She half expected Sylvia to interrogate her about what was distracting her.

Instead, she pasted a patient smile on her face as Heloise resumed her seat.

“I asked how your search of the office spaces went this morning.”

“Ah.” Heloise cleared her throat, praying the heat that suddenly flooded her face did not translate to a blush. “I managed to search just about every room in that wing of the club. There was not a jewel to be found.”

“I see.” There was another long look from Sylvia, so long that Heloise squirmed under the woman’s seemingly all-seeing gaze.

Finally she broke the contact, peering into her teacup as if attempting to read the future there. “It’s as I suspected, of course. They are not stupid men, and would not leave something so valuable easily accessible.”

Euphemia’s eyes narrowed in concern. “I know you’ve already stated the jewels have not been sold off. But are you still certain that isn’t the case?”

“I am,” Sylvia replied firmly. “I have had my informants scouring London for the slightest whisper about those jewels, and not a peep has been heard. And with such well-known gems, they could not have been sold off without some trail of breadcrumbs being left behind. No,” she continued, nodding with certainty, “those jewels are still in the possession of Dionysus. I have no doubt.”

She sat up straighter. “With Heloise searching Dionysus, we can narrow down where the more valuable of the club’s assets are kept.”

“But wouldn’t that be the main vault?” Iris asked.

“The one behind the floor manager’s seat?

Surely Heloise needn’t go through all this trouble to verify something so obvious.

” She cast a quick glance Heloise’s way, though she could not mask the emotions in her eyes, her concern almost a palpable thing in the air. Something that made Heloise squirm.

But Sylvia shook her head. “That is exactly why we cannot focus on it. It’s much too obvious.”

“I agree,” Laney chimed in. “The ground-floor vault will be the place for the money needed for the nightly play. The long-term earnings, the surplus, the property and deeds and miscellaneous winnings they take in that cannot be used on the casino floor will be kept elsewhere, far from the general populace.”

“Which is why we must secure everyone’s position for the night of the masquerade.

” Sylvia leaned forward, peering at the rough map laid out on the low table before them.

“For anyplace secured to such a degree will need a distraction to access. And not just any distraction, but an unprecedented one, something they could not begin to guess they need to protect themselves from. Heloise will soon find the location of whatever safe we need to access. Until then, we will continue our plans for the upcoming event, so we might know our places when the time comes.”

She sat back, a small smile curving her formerly tightly pinched lips. “But I have received an interesting bit of news.” She looked about at them all, a spark in her eyes. “It seems someone is quietly searching for anyone who might have been cheated by Dionysus.”

The change in the atmosphere was immediate, the air fairly snapping with electricity. The papers slid from Heloise’s lap again, but she didn’t notice them for how focused she was on Sylvia. The news was validating. Julia had been right all along about Dionysus. And yet…

And yet it caused a lump to form in her chest that she could not dislodge. She realized in that moment just how desperately she had begun to hope she was mistaken about Dionysus. Or, rather, Ethan. For something so heinous could not be going on under his roof without his knowledge.

Bitterness filled her mouth until she thought she would choke on it. Resolutely swallowing it down as best she could, she said, “So there truly are others as we suspected.”

“There are indeed. I’ve let it be known—discreetly, of course—that I am willing to meet whoever might be inquiring and have already received a reply. I am waiting for confirmation of the time and place of the meeting.”

“But that could be dangerous.” Iris began scratching at the skin of her wrist, a sure sign of her distress.

Laney laughed, taking Sylvia’s hand in hers. “Do you forget I’m a renowned boxer? I’ll protect Sylvia with my life, have no fear.”

“I wish to go as well,” Heloise said before she knew what she was about. Why? Why did she have to go? But she knew the answer almost immediately: She needed to hear the information, the damning news that would finally harden her heart again, with her own ears.

But Sylvia seemed to have been expecting her request. She shook her head, an emphatic no. “You have enough to do,” she stated.

Heloise, however, was not about to be dissuaded. She could not hear this secondhand. “I will go,” she said, gently but firmly, so Sylvia would know there was no talking her out of it.

Once more Sylvia considered her silently. Though wasn’t there the faintest hint of sadness in her look? Finally she nodded, letting loose a sigh.

“Very well. I’ll inform you once the time of the meeting is agreed upon.”

As Heloise watched everyone rise and take her leave, she knew she should feel some sort of satisfaction that everything was falling into place, that her decision to start them off on this scheme had been validated.

Yet as she silently filed out after them, she felt only a deep sorrow that she had been right.

Ethan didn’t take any particular notice of Keely when he arrived unannounced in his office the following morning.

Business between them had reverted to the usual routine, after all, the search for information regarding Heloise coming up empty and the rumors simmering about the club having all but disappeared.

Even Keely with his extensive web of connections and informants seemed to be coming up empty now, no rumbles shaking the foundation any longer.

A relief, surely. It could very well mean that the rumors had been just that, mere rumors.

Wasn’t there always false information to wade through, someone with a grudge against the club who sought to damage it?

The lack of new information was also further proof that Heloise had never been plotting against him.

That what they shared could be something true.

What that something might be, he didn’t have a clue; while he knew he had fallen in love with her, he was unsure where her heart lay, if her heart was involved at all.

But just the fact that their connection wasn’t polluted with intrigue and secrets was enough for him. For now, at least.

It seemed, however, that the quiet days devoid of new information had been just a sweet interlude.

“You might want to sit down for this one, Mr. Sinclaire.”

Ethan, who had been searching through the bookcase behind his desk, stilled, heart dropping like an anchor into the depths of his stomach. “You have learned something new.”

It wasn’t a question, but Keely answered it nonetheless. “Aye.”

Nodding grimly, he went to his chair, sinking down into it. “Well then,” he prompted as the man sat across from him. “Out with it. What did you learn?” And what subject—the cheating rumors or Heloise—is this news about?

The answer to that came quickly enough, thank God. Keely knew not to delay bad news any longer than he had to.

“I’ve found someone who claims to have been a victim of cheating at Dionysus.”

The breath left him in a rush, though he did not know if it was due to shock and despair that they had actually located someone and the rumors surrounding the club had not been a fever dream, or relief that the news was not about Heloise.

Whatever it was, he didn’t have time to coddle it. Pushing it aside, he sat forward, hands planted flat on the desktop. “Have you met with them?”

“I’m set to. Tomorrow, just after sunrise in Hyde Park, beneath the bridge that spans the Serpentine.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Keely started, staring at Ethan with wide eyes. “You want to go yourself?”

“Yes.”

A sharp, surprised bark escaped Keely’s mouth. “Do you think that’s wise?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Ethan scowled at the other man. “I see nothing wrong with it. It’s my club; therefore it’s my responsibility to see this taken care of.”

“Which you can do through me.”

Ethan’s scowl deepened. “And what is wrong with me going?”

Keely shrugged, motioning down at himself. “You have to admit, I’m not the most formidable-looking fellow. If anyone can make this person feel safe enough to tell what happened to them, it would be me. Whereas you…”

His voice trailed off as his gaze tripped over Ethan, the sideways glance and the curl of his lip saying louder than words that what he saw didn’t please him a bit.

Ethan knew all too well that people did not look on him favorably, that he would never be invited into a Mayfair drawing room except as an oddity, something to be gawked at. And he had long ago made his peace with that.

Even so, it stung. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” he grumbled.

The look Keely gave him spoke volumes. “Whatever you say, Mr. Sinclaire,” he said, touching a finger to his forelock.

The damned cheeky bugger. “Regardless,” Ethan gritted, “I shall be there, if only to keep out of sight and step in if necessary.” He glowered when Keely looked about to protest. “And that is final.”

Keely deflated in his seat before, his typical optimism springing back, he straightened, rising from his seat, tugging his jacket down with a determined yank. “As you like, Mr. Sinclaire. Meet me on the footpath beneath the Serpentine bridge closest to the guardhouse, tomorrow at quarter to five.”

Ethan watched him hurry off, a strange mixture of anticipation and trepidation simmering in his breast. Tomorrow, he vowed, his hands balling to fists on the arms of his chair. Tomorrow he would have the answers he had been searching for.