Page 31 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“That’s all you want? A book?”

“It’s a medieval book—a calendar of holy days with beautiful illuminated pages.” At his blank look, she added, “There are drawings on the pages, as well Bible verses and the life stories of saints in old-fashioned lettering. It’s very old and just the sort of thing Lord Hythwick likes to collect. The cover is leather, with silver metalwork at the corners, and a silver clasp. It belongs to my brother, and I must get it back.” Her throat filled, and she confessed, “It’s my fault that Lord Hythwick had the opportunity to steal the book.”

“But not your fault that he did so,” Mr. Alexander said.

“Hiffy’s a bad sort,” Mr. Cartway said. “Makes life hell for his servants. I’m happy to have a chance to diddle him.”

Hiffy? She stifled a giggle. In Mr. Cartway’s Cockney accent, the nickname sounded like ‘iffy.’ “Five pounds to search for it, and twenty-five if you succeed in finding it and bring it to me.”

“Right you are. Piece of cake.”

“But please, please don’t get caught.”

“Don’t you worry your head over me, miss. I’m an old hand at this sort of caper.”

“And whether or not you find it, please try to leave no sign that you were there.”

“No fear of that, ducky,” he said indulgently, as if she were a foolish child. Which she certainly had been for years, judging by her behavior, but not anymore.

He folded the sketch, shook hands, and took himself off. Immediately, Gloriana sent one of the boys with a note to Sophie, asking her to inform Philippe that he needn’t search for the book, as she had found another way to recover it.

She brushed her hands together in a that-took-care-of-him sort of motion. She hadn’t contacted Philippe directly, and he would no longer endanger himself.

So now, shivering on Mr. Alexander’s arm, she did her best not to worry about Mr. Cartway instead.

~ ~ ~

Philippe read the note, tossed it into the grate, and watched it burn. God only knew what mad plan she was pursuing now. Well, he had plans of his own.

Since Hythwick was still at his Melton Mowbray estate, breaking into his house wasn’t particularly risky. Still, that evening Philippe brought two loaded pistols in case the footmen were vigilant. More likely, they were drinking and playing cards in the kitchen, as servants were wont to do when the master was away, especially one like Hythwick who considered them of no account.

Hythwick’s was one of the grand old mansions on a sizeable plot of land, with a wall easily scaled if one knew how, and a bump-out at the back with a drainpipe just asking to be shinned. Philippe climbed onto the roof of the bump-out, staying low so as to show no silhouette, and was about to pry open a window when he realized it already was open about an inch.

Strange, but he pushed it slowly up. It made no sound. Evidently the servants kept everything in perfect condition or else. He climbed in and looked about . . . Darkness and silence.

Too silent, somehow. One learned to sense these things.

He gazed about the dim room, keeping his back to the wall and gripping one of the pistols. A long, tall shape materialized from behind a sofa, chuckling as it appeared.

“Wotcher, Phil.”

Philippe let out a long, relieved breath and pocketed the pistol. He knew Cartway well, having hired him for difficult burglaries in London. “What the devil are you doing here?” A stupid question. He cursed under his breath and closed the window. “I suppose Miss . . . Glow hired you.”

“Got it in one, mate. You, too? I thought you was done with milling kens.”

“I am. Fool woman, I told her I’d get the book for her. This explains why she wrote telling me not to bother.”

“She a friend of yours?”

“God, no. She cannot stand the sight of me.”

“And now you’re risking life and limb on the crack lay for the sake of her loverly blue eyes?” Cartway chuckled again. “Right, then. You take this room, I’ll try his bedchamber.”

“Fine,” Philippe said.

“Miss Glow and the Rovin’ Rev are playing bo-peep.”

Which meant they were acting as lookouts. Why the devil must Gloriana take such stupid risks? “Who is the Roving Rev?”