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They turned on their heels in unison and ventured down the stairs to the first floor.

As they reached the first-floor landing, Ford halted, maneuvering Grace against the banister. His arms formed a cage around her, their bodies nearly touching. The abrupt intimacy sent a jolt through Grace’s nerves. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“I thought you said to act as though I belonged.”

“Yes?” She attempted to look around, but the beast of a man was shielding her view. “There are people here up and down the stairs. We need an excuse to get to the corridor without seeming suspicious,” Ford murmured, his breath warm against her cheek.

Grace’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Leave it to me,” she purred, making her voice low and sultry.

With deliberate slowness, she raised her hands to Ford’s cravat. She had to admit, she’d been itching to do this from the moment she saw him wearing that abomination. As much as she loved that he looked like a gentleman, she considered the fact that the accessory covered the strong column of his neck unacceptable.

Her fingers worked nimbly, unfastening the silk with practiced ease. Ford’s breath hitched as she leaned in, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to his neck. She wanted people to think they were in a lover’s embrace. If anyone was passing by, they needed to appear engrossed with each other to fit in.

Though she didn’t make contact, she was happy to notice that her proximity alone was enough to raise goosebumps on his skin.

“Follow me,” she whispered.

In one fluid motion, Grace slipped from Ford’s embrace. She twirled the cravat around his neck once before snatching it away, waving it in the air like a trophy. Her laughter echoed through the corridor as she darted away into the shadows.

Ford stood stunned for a moment before he seemed to awaken from a daze and gave chase, following her into the dark corridor.

Once they were safely hidden in the shadows, Ford caught up to Grace. “Good job,” he said, slightly out of breath. His tone held a mixture of admiration and something deeper.

Grace turned to face him, a wide smile on her lips. She was truly enjoying herself. “I told you to leave it to me.” She dangled his cravat between her fingers, and he snatched it away. “See? And no fighting was involved.”

He snorted. “It’s early still.”

“Which door?” Grace whispered as he was hastily putting on his cravat.

“The third door to the left.”

“I don’t think you should bother with that.” She tipped her chin toward his cravat.

He paused his efforts. “Why not?”

“You need to look as disheveled as you can,” Grace whispered, her eyes darting down the dimly lit corridor. “I would leave it hanging from your coat pocket.”

Ford quirked an eyebrow but complied easily, stuffing the cravat haphazardly into his pocket so that one end dangled out. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further, and widened the V of his shirt, exposing his strong chest covered with a sprinkling of dark hair. “Better?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Grace nodded approvingly, her gaze lingering for a moment on the enticing bit of exposed skin.

Ford turned back, counting under his breath. “One, two, there. Here it is,” he murmured.

Grace’s heart rate quickened as they approached their goal. Ford tried the door handle and to their surprise, the door swung open with a soft creak.

They hesitated for a moment on the threshold, both straining their ears for any sound of approach. Hearing nothing but the muffled noises from the floors above and below, they slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind them.

The study was awash in shadows, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through heavy velvet curtains. The air was thick with the scent of leather-bound books and tobacco. Grace’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, taking in the imposing desk, the walls lined with bookshelves, and the plush armchairs arranged before a cold fireplace.

“What are we looking for anyway?” Grace asked, standing still by the threshold.

“Anything. Everything.” Ford moved toward the desk, his nimble fingers already sifting through the papers on top of it.

Grace frowned. “That doesn’t narrow it down even a bit.”

“This man is a part of the Brotherhood of the Crimson Fist,” Ford said without raising his head, his concentration on the papers he was flipping through. “He is one of the people who is looking to capture you or one of your friends and torture you until you give up the owner of the brothel. So, if we find something incriminating about him, I’d call it a success. If we find any ties he has to the Brotherhood and their criminal dealings, I’d call it a success. But mainly, I would love to find something that points in the direction of him being the killer of the aristocrats so I can capture him and get my reward from the King.”

Grace scrunched her nose. “It sounds like it’ll take you a while. I think it would be best if I kept watch outside.”