Page 47 of To Heist and to Hold

Which must have been the right thing to say—again—for the maid smiled and spun about, leading the way from the room.

But though her pace was quick, it was not quick enough for Ethan.

It took every ounce of control he possessed not to push past her and sprint down to the ground floor and Heloise.

In the end, however, he managed to control himself, and even walked with a semblance of poise into the main room of the casino.

That poise, however, was short-lived. The moment he spotted Heloise, all coherent thought fled from his mind.

And as he approached the cluster of women—women he did not even see, as focused as he was on her —and gazed down into her beloved face, into those clear blue eyes that had always seen so much, he thought back on Isaac’s words and found himself feeling that most dangerous emotion of all: hope .

Heloise had spent the past several days telling herself that she was strong enough to do this, that seeing Ethan would not affect her in the least, that she could separate herself from her heart for one evening to make good on that promise to her dying husband and protect his sister.

The moment she saw Ethan enter the casino, however, looking so tall and commanding and utterly wonderful, she realized that her silent assurances to herself had been made of mere smoke and mirrors. How, she wondered desperately as something cracked in her chest, could she get through tonight?

His eyes alighted on their group immediately.

Was it just her, or did he seem to exhale as if in relief?

But no, she told herself severely, that exhalation was merely an indication of his aggravation.

Regardless of his kindness the other day, he could not be happy about this entire situation.

He would be glad to see the end of it. Just as she was.

Why, then, she thought as he reached them and she gazed up into those dark eyes that were incredibly dear to her, did she have the overwhelming urge to cry, knowing tonight would be the last time she would ever have cause to see him?

“Good evening, ladies,” he murmured as, finally breaking his gaze from hers, he glanced at each of them in turn. His features were grim, thinner than before. Was he not eating?

“Mr. Sinclaire,” Sylvia said, dipping her head in that regal manner she had. “I trust we are not late.”

“Not at all. You’re just in time.”

“Splendid. I’m glad to hear it. But you have not yet met our companions.” She turned to Iris and Julia and made the necessary introductions, as if Ethan had indeed never met them.

It was all a predetermined interaction for the public spaces of the club.

Yet Heloise grasped each cool, emotionless word that spilled from his lips as if it were the sweetest nectar.

Dear God, she had missed his voice, had missed him .

No matter how things had ended between them, she was determined to cherish each and every second she had with him before they were separated forever, to take with her into the lonely years that loomed ahead.

Ethan guided them to the back of the casino and the long hall that led to the boxing venue.

About them, Dionysus had been transformed into an unfamiliar landscape.

She had noticed it in a very vague kind of manner upon her entrance to the club, of course.

But now that the initial meeting with Ethan was behind her, she could finally take in her surroundings.

And what she saw had her in awe. The walls were no longer covered in heavy red velvet as before, but in rich ivory decorated with twining vines, gilded grapes dripping from their tendrils.

Faux stone columns stood at intervals, statues of mythical gods scattered around, everything elegant and shining as if they had stepped into an ancient palace.

The employees had exchanged their typical stark black garb for deep amethyst jackets embellished with shining gold thread, similar to the one Ethan currently wore.

They all scurried about, putting the finishing touches to the decor, preparing platters of champagne, wiping down already sparkling surfaces.

They would all don their masks soon, she knew, Ethan and the partners included, completing the transformation, giving the final magical touch.

Over the past weeks Heloise had become aware of many of the intricacies involved in planning such an event.

Yet this was the first time she had fully understood the effort, time, and money it must take.

Guilt surged. She’d been so concerned with finding those damn jewels, she had not fully comprehended the scope of this event and what it meant for this place Ethan had poured his heart and soul into.

And it could all be ruined in one fell swoop this evening if things went wrong.

She did not fail to notice the irony that she was now concerned with Dionysus’s fate after being more than happy to destroy the gaming hell in order to recover the jewels.

But after having been brought into Ethan’s confidence, after learning what he had gone through to build this place from nothing—after falling in love with him—she could think of little else in this moment but the devastation their plans could wreak on him.

They reached the back venue just then. As with the rest of the casino, Heloise found herself shocked at the change.

She had witnessed firsthand the work to turn this once-empty space into a place suitable for a grand boxing match.

Nothing had prepared her, however, for how it would look once the workers and craftspeople and equipment and debris were removed.

The ring stood in a place of honor in the center, the platform a thing of beauty with its raised dais and sturdy ropes and thickly padded posts.

Surrounding it, the newly constructed seats gleamed in their fresh varnish.

Pendants and ribbons hung from the balcony above, where even more seating had been constructed.

“It’s perfect, Mr. Sinclaire,” Laney said with satisfaction as she stepped forward, spinning in a circle to take the grandeur of it all in. “As I expected. I could not have dreamed of a better venue to host my return to the ring.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” he replied. Suddenly he turned Heloise’s way. “I hope the venue is up to your expectations as well, Mrs. Marlow.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Heloise swallowed hard and forced her reluctant voice to work. “It is, Mr. Sinclaire. Thank you for your efforts; it will be a splendid affair indeed.”

“That we can guarantee,” came a jolly voice from the shadows.

The group turned to see Mr. Teagan, along with Mr. Parsons and Mr. Isaac Sinclaire, emerge from the doorway leading to the upper level.

Mr. Teagan grinned as they approached. “And not only because of our preparations. Rather, your match itself will be the highlight of the evening. Though I daresay it would be even if we held it in a barren field.”

Laney laughed merrily. “I knew I liked you, Mr. Teagan. But please allow me to introduce you to my friends here.” So saying, she turned to their group, face animated and hands busy.

Which was Heloise’s cue to get Ethan alone. Not that she particularly wished to get him alone. God knew what it would do to her composure, not to mention her heart. But a private discussion regarding the evening’s upcoming events was imperative, the danger of something going wrong too great.

She sidled up to him on shaking legs. “Mr. Sinclaire, would you be so kind as to show me the changing room, so I may prepare things for Mrs. Finch?”

His eyes when they met hers were not the cold, distant ones she’d expected. No, they fairly burned. But whatever he might be feeling toward her, the rest of him did not betray it even one bit. He dipped his head. “Of course,” he said in a neutral tone. “Please follow me.”

They exited the venue in silence, the sounds of voices and laughter growing fainter as they stepped from the space and turned into a small room off to the side of the hall.

Without a word, Ethan closed the door behind them, shutting them in.

And it took Heloise everything in her not to throw herself into his arms.

“We can speak freely here,” he said quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Heloise schooled her features and turned to face him.

But what little composure she had managed to retain slipped dangerously as she caught sight of his face.

That burning in his eyes was still there.

But his features were no longer calm, no longer emotionless.

Instead of the anger she had expected, however, there was pain and longing.

She froze, forgetting to breathe. Longing? That made no sense at all, unless his longing was for her to get out of his life once and for all.

“I trust Euphemia’s position has been secured,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her to conceal their shaking—and to prevent her from reaching for him.

His expression cleared. “Yes. She’ll be working as a footman this evening.” His lips quirked humorlessly. “She is quite the master of disguise. As was proven by her infiltration of the craftsmen, of course. But meeting with her tonight truly showed me what she is capable of.”

“Yes,” Heloise replied almost by rote, finding a strange comfort in the innocuous conversation, “her talent is unmatched. She is the person responsible for all our specialized garments, split skirts and trousers and corsets…”

“And places to conceal blades, no doubt,” he finished for her when her voice faltered.

She recalled that early-morning meeting at Hyde Park, when she had pulled a knife on his man Keely, and her cheeks warmed. “Yes, that, too.” But this conversation was veering into the personal, which made her feel as if she were in a listing ship on a ravaged sea.

“But we are here to discuss our plans for this evening,” she said firmly, determined to get them back on track—and her heart under control.