Page 41 of To Heist and to Hold

Heloise had not allowed herself to think or feel since Ethan’s departure the day before.

To do so, she knew, would be to invite heartache and self-recrimination and a bone-deep guilt she would not be able to shake, which would affect what little time was left before the jewels needed to be recovered.

No, she could not afford to let emotions rule; she had to focus.

And to do that, she had to keep herself from thinking of Ethan beyond the very limited scope of their plans.

It helped, of course, that she didn’t see him. There were no trips to Dionysus to check on the boxing ring, and certainly no visits at night…

But the time of shutting herself off from him, she knew, was at an end.

“That Mr. Sinclaire is back,” Strachan grumbled from the doorway of the drawing room.

Heloise, who was perched on the edge of her chair, nodded with as much poise as she could manage. “Thank you, Strachan. Please show him up.”

The housekeeper gave her a scathing glare before she harrumphed and turned about to make her way down the stairs.

Beside her, Julia fretted, her slender hands tearing at her handkerchief. “What was I thinking?” she babbled, voice reed thin. “I cannot meet Mr. Ethan Sinclaire. I thought it would help. But what if this is a trap? What if he’s lying—?”

“Mr. Sinclaire is not lying, Julia,” Heloise said firmly, laying a comforting hand over the girl’s. No, Ethan was not lying to them. He truly was trying to flush out the villain in his club. He’d had no part in the cheating, was as much a victim as Julia was.

Which made the way she’d used and tricked him all the more abhorrent.

Truly a feat, considering how horrible she’d already felt deceiving him before receiving confirmation of his innocence.

Her control slipped as the rogue thought came through.

Which was when Ethan entered, his bulk filling the doorway, snapping the tight leash she had on her emotions.

“I’m glad you acknowledge that, Mrs. Marlow,” he said, his voice even. As before, she felt the chilly use of her married name down to the very depths of her soul.

But while she could not hope to control the heat in her cheeks from his overhearing her, she could retain her composure. Ignoring his comment, she dipped her head in his direction. “Mr. Sinclaire, thank you for coming.”

He nodded in response, but his eyes slid past her and anchored firmly on Julia, who, in her anxiety, gave a small squeak at Heloise’s side.

“This is the woman you were referring to?” he asked. “The one who is a victim of Dionysus?”

It was not the first time Heloise had noticed him indicating that Dionysus as a whole was at fault. Though he didn’t know the identity of the one creating havoc in his club, he could easily put the blame on that person.

Yet by indicating the club itself was at fault, as owner, he was essentially taking the blame on himself. Something softened inside her chest at the very thought.

But no, she reprimanded herself, it was the least he could do in such a situation. As the head of the beast that was Dionysus, it was his duty to assume responsibility for such things. Sylvia would do the same should something occur in the course of one of the Widows’ investigations.

The realization, however, did little to refreeze her quietly thawing heart.

But she was heading down a slippery slope. Once she truly allowed such thoughts to take hold, she was done for.

“Mr. Sinclaire,” she said as he took a seat across from them, “this is Miss Julia Marlow.”

“Marlow.” His gaze darted to her, his surprise evident.

She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “She is my late husband’s sister.”

What was that sudden change in his eyes? A sad realization perhaps?

A moment later, however, it was gone as he turned his full attention to Julia.

“I am very sorry,” he said, voice gentle and expression somber, “that you have suffered at the hands of Dionysus.”

Julia, clearly startled, darted a quick, anxious glance Heloise’s way. Heloise smiled in reassurance, though her insides were quickening their thawing, sending her emotions in a spin. She had not expected much from Ethan beyond a cold gathering of facts.

But she saw now she had been a fool. Yes, he could be brusque and hard.

Yet she had seen that softer side of him, the vulnerability beneath the surface that he disguised so well.

It felt like a gift, that he had revealed that part of himself to her.

Her heart constricted in grief that she would never be given that gift again.

“Th-thank you,” Julia said, fingers strangling one another in her lap.

“I certainly don’t deserve your thanks,” he said.

“I should be the one thanking you for coming forward. I know you must have already disclosed the details of your ordeal several times over. But would you mind doing so once more for me?” At her pause, he continued in an even quieter tone, as if he feared she was a skittish rabbit that would bolt at the first wrong move, “It would help me immensely in making things right.”

The effect of Ethan’s words and tone on Julia was by no means immediate. Yet Heloise, seated as she was beside her sister-in-law, could feel Julia’s body slowly relax, her rigid pose easing.

“Yes,” she said, voice shaking only slightly. “Yes, I can do that.”

Over the next hour the two talked quietly, with Heloise silently watching.

Every detail was gone over meticulously, and yet with such care on Ethan’s part that at times it brought tears to Heloise’s eyes.

Why did he have to be so wonderful to Julia?

Why did he have to take such care in making her feel at ease?

And why, when she should be relieved that Julia was being treated with respect, was she getting so damned angry?

It didn’t take Heloise long to figure the answer to that last question, however.

It quickly became apparent that her anger was not directed at Ethan at all, but rather solely and firmly at herself.

And every single self-recrimination she had tried so hard to smother since the previous morning came crashing over her head, a powerful wave that stole the very breath from her lungs.

Had she done all she had to save Julia? Yes.

But in the process, she had used and manipulated Ethan.

Worse, she had played to his emotions and hurt him dreadfully.

After all he had endured over the years, it was an unforgivable sin on her part.

But his emotions had not been the only ones involved, had they?

It was one thing to feel guilt over what she had done.

It was quite another thing, however, to experience this bone-deep grief.

The very idea that she had hurt him when he had already been through so much was like a knife to her heart.

And it was then she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she had fallen in love with him.

She sucked in a sharp breath as that realization slid into place like a key in a lock. Ethan and Julia glanced at her sharply.

“Heloise,” Julia said, placing a hand over hers, brows drawn together in concern, “is something wrong?”

“What? Oh! No, I’m fine.” She tried for a smile, but it trembled on her lips. “Please, don’t mind me. You were saying?”

Julia’s concerned frown turned to one of puzzlement. “We were just finishing. Mr. Sinclaire,” she continued, rising and holding her hand out to him, “thank you for everything.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he murmured, standing and taking her hand in his.

Julia smiled and dipped into a shallow curtsy. “I’ll be off, then. Heloise, I shall see you later?” Then she was gone. Leaving Heloise and Ethan quite alone.

Which was when Heloise realized this was the first moment they had been alone together since learning the truth about one another—and since she’d realized she was in love with him.

Any hope that she could face him without bursting into tears was thrown right out the window when she glanced at him and felt that new and painful twisting in the region of her heart.

Did it hurt her pride that she couldn’t even remain in the same room with him without making an utter cake of herself?

Yes. But such was her need to escape that she didn’t care.

“Well, then,” she said, perhaps a touch too loudly. “I do hope that helped. I’ve much to do; I’m certain you won’t mind if I don’t show you out.” With that she made a beeline for the door.

Ethan’s voice, however, stopped her cold.

“I think,” he said softly, quietly, “that you owe me some kind of explanation, Heloise.”

She might have been able to ignore him and continue on her way—if he hadn’t used her name.

His speaking something she had not thought to hear from his lips again had her feet faltering on the plush carpet.

The draw of him too great, she took a deep breath and, steeling herself for the conversation to come, turned to face him.

By God, his chest ached just looking at her.

She appeared almost defiant as she faced him, hands bunched into white-knuckled fists at her sides, chin lifted ever so slightly. A day ago it would have infuriated him, that seeming unconcern for what she had done to him.

But his fury had not lasted long. In fact, it had already begun to transform by the time he’d left this house the morning before.

How could it not, after he’d learned why she had done what she’d done?

How could he blame her for trying to save her sister-in-law, the relationship making her sacrifice all the more desperate?

Sacrifice. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth.

But why else would someone like her wish to bed someone like him?

He had been pursued for the thrill of sleeping with someone of crude origins before, and he had not minded then.

Or, at least, not minded much. It had been purely physical, without emotion, a mutual fulfilling of a need, however base.