Page 6 of To Heist and to Hold

“Why, Mr. Teagan, you make me feel positively ancient,” Laney rejoined. “But please allow me to present my manager, Mrs. Heloise Marlow. It was her idea that I come out of retirement.”

“And what a brilliant idea it was,” Mr. Teagan effused, turning his attention to Heloise.

For Heloise’s part, she was so overwhelmed with wondering if this could be the man she would be working closely with, she was caught completely unawares when he turned his eyes her way.

“Ah, er, thank you,” she managed. Her cheeks burned hot, something that seemed to please Mr. Teagan if the satisfied look in his eyes was any indication.

No doubt he believed her being flustered was caused by his allure, an attitude that could only help her if he was indeed the man she would attempt to seduce.

But she would not succeed if she acted like a ninny every time one of these men so much as looked at her.

No doubt she would soon learn which of them she needed to focus her attentions on; in the meantime, she would prepare herself as best she could.

While all the partners had similar backgrounds, having risen from the poorest parts of London to unimaginable heights of power and wealth, their personalities could not be more different.

Smoothing her skirts, she hastily went over the information Sylvia had supplied just that morning while Mr. Teagan turned his attentions back to Laney.

That man had already proved that he was a consummate flirt.

But as she studied his expertly tailored clothing and the unconcerned curve of his lean body as he sprawled in his seat, she recalled he also possessed a genius mind that had made him a partner not only in one of the most successful gaming hells in London, but also in other ventures, lesser known but equally successful.

Such an active mind could lead one to do troubling things if it was kept less than completely stimulated.

On the other side of that coin, there was Mr. Parsons.

She dipped her head as Mr. Teagan finally halted his flattery and introduced that partner, a hulking man seated just off to the side of the group as if he could not be bothered to be a part of it.

Unease settled under her skin as she studied him.

No matter that his features were craggy and unforgiving, bisected by a pale, tight scar that went from one side of his forehead across the bridge of his nose and puckered across the opposite cheek; that part of him truly did not bother her a bit.

Rather, it was the air of warning about him, a heaviness, as if anyone who tried to get close to him would be swallowed whole and never be able to escape.

He had been an enigma even to their informants, a person who held all cards close to his chest and revealed not a single tell.

She swallowed hard, sending up a little prayer that she did not have to attempt to seduce that particular man.

It was with relief that she followed Mr. Teagan’s direction and settled her gaze on Mr. Isaac Sinclaire, youngest of the three Sinclaire brothers.

Or, at least, there had been three before the middle brother’s untimely death several years prior.

Mr. Isaac Sinclaire seemed to be as popular with the ladies as Mr. Teagan.

But where Mr. Teagan had the air of someone who was constantly busy, constantly seeking, constantly needing something, Mr. Isaac Sinclaire had a much calmer feel to him.

He looked at Heloise and Laney in turn with a small, open smile on his face.

Heloise chewed on the inside of her cheek.

He was young for a man in his position, the very same age she herself was, and with his milder disposition and quiet good looks, he seemed the preferable of the three thus far for a seduction.

But he was also the least powerful. No, the most powerful position at Dionysus was held by one man and one man alone.

Which naturally led her to the fourth prospect, Mr. Isaac Sinclaire’s eldest brother, Mr. Ethan Sinclaire.

A man who was known for his fierceness yet also for his honesty, whom people feared yet were strangely loyal to.

A peculiar combination indeed. She turned to greet him as Mr. Teagan made the introduction—only to have her breath ripped from her lungs as her eyes met his.

She had given him a cursory glance when she’d entered the room, of course.

But she had not looked him fully in the face, and what she saw had her equally confused and transfixed.

His features were careworn, rough, as if the hardships he had experienced had etched themselves into every line and sharp angle.

With his heavy brows, crooked nose, and sharp cheekbones, there was nothing soft about him at all.

Except for his lips, which were strangely full, an incongruous lusciousness, like that of a vibrant flower in a rocky landscape.

But it was not his lips that so thoroughly captured her attention.

At least, not completely. No, the thing that hooked into her and would not let go were his eyes.

She felt as if those strange, piercing, nearly black orbs of his could see straight to her soul.

Which, of course, must be what accounted for the peculiar tension that suddenly electrified her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and every single inch in between.

“Mrs. Finch, Mrs. Marlow,” he said with a slight dip of his head.

His voice was rich and unbelievably deep, like browned butter and sugar and molasses all mixed together in a delicious concoction of temptation.

“Thank you for coming to meet with us. We were intrigued and honored to receive your letter.”

Heloise blinked. He sounded the farthest thing from honored that there could be.

In fact, he sounded very much as if he distrusted them.

She shivered slightly as his cold gaze drifted over her, as if taking stock of her.

Ah, yes, he did not trust them at all. Which meant either distrust was part and parcel of his personality, or he had seen through their ruse.

The former they could work with, of course.

But if it was the latter, they could be in trouble indeed.

Blessedly, the tea came just then, giving Heloise the space to gauge Laney’s reaction as Mr. Teagan went to work preparing the beverage.

Had her friend sensed Mr. Sinclaire’s tone as well?

From the slight tightening at the corners of her eyes, she rather thought Laney had.

Her smile was that much brighter, her teeth flashing as she dipped her head in acknowledgement of Mr. Sinclaire’s comment.

“That is kind of you to say,” she said. “I have missed the sport so much and have ached to get back in the ring. When Heloise and I were discussing where best to do so, we could think of no finer establishment than Dionysus. As I’m sure you’re all aware, your club is one of the best in all of London.

” She laughed lightly. “If not the very best.”

Mr. Sinclaire’s lips quirked at one corner, but there was no humor in the action. “Indeed.”

Mr. Teagan chuckled. “And Sinclaire here is humble as well. Please, pay him no heed. He’s a surly beast at the best of times. Now, Mrs. Marlow,” he continued with a smile Heloise’s way, “how do you take your tea?”

The next minutes passed pleasantly as Mr. Teagan saw to their tea and Mr. Isaac Sinclaire passed out delicacies in the form of small cakes and biscuits.

It was quite the most bizarre experience of Heloise’s life; it would have been a tea worthy of the finest London drawing room had they not been in a gaming hell talking of women’s boxing.

And if there had not been such a strange collection of males present.

Indeed, so aware was Heloise of Mr. Sinclaire at her side glowering over the proceedings, she could hardly force herself to take a sip of her drink.

But she would not allow the man to cow her.

Purposely recalling Julia and the devastation on her face as she recounted what had happened here in this very hell, she straightened and attempted to remember her part in this strange dance—and how important the outcome was.

“We do hope you will consider working with us, gentlemen,” she said, determined to play her part to the hilt. “Mrs. Finch is quite eager for it to happen and would be horribly disappointed should we fail to entice you to host her comeback match.”

“Oh, there is no enticing needed,” Mr. Teagan said with a wide grin. “It has already been decided.”

“Teagan here is such an admirer of yours,” Mr. Isaac Sinclaire joined in, chuckling, “that it was not a matter of if , but when we could host your match.”

“Oh, splendid!” Laney cried. “I cannot thank you enough.”

“It is we who should be thanking you,” Mr. Teagan effused.

“Even more so should you be ready in a fortnight, in time for our quarterly masquerade. It is Dionysus’s biggest draw, and having your comeback that evening would be the very thing to transform this particular event from incredible to spectacular . ”

“You do have a way with words, Mr. Teagan,” Laney replied.

A fortnight. Heloise’s mind whirled with all that needed to be done.

Granted, they had hoped for a short time, the Ayersleys’ anniversary ball taking place in just under a month.

But could they manage this? She placed her barely touched tea down and sat forward, catching Laney’s eye.

“It is quite close; our preparations for the event will have to be rushed. Do you think we are up for something of this magnitude in so truncated a time?” Her friend, she knew, would understand all she left unsaid.

She meant they would have to infiltrate Dionysus much quicker than anticipated in their search for Lady Ayersley’s jewels.

Not to mention Heloise’s need to seduce one of the partners to secure their success.

But Laney did not hesitate. She knew better than Heloise what the Widows were capable of.

“I have every faith that we’re up to the job,” she said with a steady confidence that did much to allay Heloise’s uncertainties.

Or it would have been enough to allay them had Mr. Sinclaire not then turned to face her fully and held out his hand to her.

“To seal our bargain,” he murmured when she looked in alarm at him. “You and I will be working quite close together, after all.”

Ah, God. So it was to be this particular male, was it?

She swallowed hard as anxiety and dread and a strange electric excitement settled under her skin.

Would she have preferred it to be one of the more open, cheerful fellows?

Certainly. Hell, she would have even preferred Mr. Parsons and his dark brooding.

Anything was better than Mr. Ethan Sinclaire and the dangerous distrust in his eyes.

But perhaps this was for the best. After all, wasn’t there something to be said for keeping your friends close but your enemies closer?

And there really was no getting closer than what she planned for this man.

Her cheeks burned hot just thinking about it.

But now was not the time for nerves. She would counteract his distrust with seduction and undermine his suspicion with kisses.

And in doing so she would clear the way for their success.

Though as she slipped her hand in his, and his strong fingers engulfed her own, she felt as if she were sealing a bargain with the devil himself.