Darting through the garden, Josephine tripped over a tree root and nearly upended herself in a great spray of peonies but managed to stay upright. Careful to stay out of the slices of moonlight dappling the grounds, she made her way to a door hidden beneath a canopy of wisteria.
A servants’ entrance, just as she’d hoped.
Cautiously testing the knob, she was only somewhat surprised to find that the door swung open easily. Lavisham’s servants would be lax, she supposed, especially if he were gone. Which was lucky because despite her assurances to Willa, Josephine wasn’t reasonably sure she could pick a lock.
Old Smitty hadn’t thought so after she’d stabbed herself a half-dozen times with the lock pick.
Silently, she crept through the door, shutting it quietly behind her. A set of stairs stretched upward, and she took a cautious step, then another until she reached a small landing. Opening a second door at the top of the stairs, Josephine found a lamp sitting atop a table, the circle of light revealing the outline of a long hallway.
Josephine swallowed down her panic at the sight of the lamp.
But of course, there would be a lamp or two. A footman or maids would likely still be in residence, even if the duke was not at home. A butler. Someone had to maintain the house while Lavisham was gone. She froze as a clock chimed.
Barely an hour past midnight.
“Find the study,” she whispered to herself. “That’s where he’d keep his winnings.”
At least, Josephine hoped that to be the case. Father had not been much of a gambler—aside from losing the brooch, apparently—but Lavisham, who won more than he lost, would store his markers in a safe place.
Not for the first time, Josephine wished she’d been given an easier task. Why must hers involve a disreputable duke? And thievery?
She crept down the hall, careful to keep her steps quiet, noting that there were lamps lit at various intervals. Which was quite handy, given that she couldn’t exactly light a candle or lamp herself. But that also meant Lavisham’s servantswerelurking about. Josephine stopped to listen, but only silence greeted her.
Finally, she came upon what had to be Lavisham’s study.
The fire was banked, which begged the question of why, with Lavisham gone, it had been lit at all. Josephine swallowed down another wave of panic, ordering her breath to remain steady. She glanced at the window, but the garden was dark. No sign of Willa’s lantern. A maid could have been cleaning the studyearlier. Or his solicitor might have been here. Even if Lavisham was in London, she reasoned, it would be unlikely for him to be home at such an early hour.
The smell of cheroot and brandy filled her nose as she stepped inside the room. A bit of leather. Ink. A massive desk sat facing the door, with an equally large chair behind it. Which made a great deal of sense, given Lavisham was a great bear of a man, despite his striking masculine beauty. Intimidating. Sensual, even while sitting on a horse. Powerful. Lavisham’s presence, even from a distance, had the ability to make her knees weak.
That was a rare occurrence. Weak knees over a man.
She inhaled slowly.
Focus, Josephine.
Striding over to the desk, wishing the stupid breeches weren’t so tight, Josephine took in the size of the chair and the height of the desk. Custom made for the duke. It would be ridiculous for Lavisham to work on his correspondence at some delicate bit of mahogany that might snap beneath the pressure of his weight.
I wouldn’t.
Heat seared her cheeks at the thought of all that….Lavisham pressing against her. Thoughts she shouldnotbe having given she was about to rob the man.
Hands running over the desk, she opened the first drawer. Josephine’s fingers trailed over more ledgers stacked inside. Papers. Nothing out of the ordinary. Taking a seat in Lavisham’s leather chair, she sat and faced the desk, running her hand over the bottom to search for a secret drawer.
“If I wereLustful Lavisham,” she said to herself in a sarcastic tone, “who gambled more often than not, where would I keep my winnings and markers?”
“Third drawer to the left,” a growl came from a dark corner of the study. “An enameled box with my initials atop it.”
Oh. Dear.Josephine grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself.
This was very bad.
“Should I light a lamp? Might prove helpful.” Leather creaked as a massive, shadowy form rose from the area to her left and came closer, looming like some horrible monster from a nightmare.
Good lord, he’s so much bigger in a small space.
“Nothing to say, little thief?”
Yes, this was a horribly stupid idea. And no one has called me little since I was six.
