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“Yes!” she hissed back over the sudden whooshing of blood in her ears. “Sally must be signaling him upstairs.”
“What she says is unimportant—she cannot tell him anything we don’t already know. What I’d really like to know is what he’s telling her,” he grumbled as the flashes continued. “You’re certain she cannot get out unseen or let anyone in?”
“Unless she has managed to get hold of a key without us knowing it—but I cannot imagine how. Agnes keeps her set tied to a girdle beneath her skirt.”
“Except at night.”
“I already told you, those of us with keys sleep behind locked doors.”
“I know you and Mrs. Sloane never nap during the day, but what about your cook?”
“Agnes could sleep through the second coming once abed, but she prefers not to sit.” She lowered her voice. “It’s the piles, you see.”
In the dim light she saw a smile twitch the corners of his mouth. “Thank you for enlightening me.”
“As I said—there is no way to access the keys without our knowledge unless one can walk through walls.”
“Or pick a lock.”
…
Her eyes widened. “But you found nothing to—”
“It’s unlikely she’d leave something that incriminating where there’s any chance it might be found,” he told her. “If she has a set of picks, she’ll keep them on her person, probably tucked into her bodice.”
“Would you have me search her?”
“No. Again, it’s best that she not know we’re aware of her duplicity.” He thought for a moment. “I know a locksmith—a good one. I’ll write him, tell him what we need, and he can have it done before nightfall without anyone outside the wiser. No one but those with keys need even know it’s been done.”
“Agnes can keep Sally busy in the kitchen. As for replacing the keys, I’m uncertain how to do so without everyone knowing.”
“Your key-holders must be brought into confidence. We need their help, especially Agnes’s. Do you think she can be told about Sally without it affecting her behavior toward her?”
“She will be furious,” whispered Jacqueline, “but once we convey the importance of secrecy, I believe so.”
“Good. Because I would also like to ask her to help mislead our spy.” He explained in the barest whisper what he planned. “What do you think?”
“I think it quite clever. She won’t suspect a ruse?”
“Not if your Agnes plays her part.” The faint lemony fragrance that always seemed to cling to her distracted him. Even more befuddling was her proximity. She’d come close to hear him, and now they were mere inches apart. He could feel the heat of her across the scant space. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of collusion, or perhaps their embrace had altered something, but her nervousness seemed to have vanished.
His, however, mounted with each passing moment. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her again, but the time wasn’t right. She should be wooed first.
Even so, he couldn’t make himself move away. If there was to be space between them, she would have to be the one to make it. Forcing his tongue to form speech, he broke the deepening silence. “Can you arrange a meeting in the morning?”
“Yes,” she said, the husk in her voice sending a bolt of desire lancing through him. “I shall ask Mrs. Sloane if we can meet in her suite. No one will be able to eavesdrop on us there.”
“Good, good.” Again, silence closed around them like a living presence, seeding the air with tension.
The clock on the mantel softly chimed half past ten. At long last, she seemed to realize how close they were. She moved back—but not too far, he noted. “I have but half an hour left, and I’m quite awake. You really ought to go and get some sleep.
”
He cleared his throat to ease the knot in it. It’s for the best. “Very well. I’ll send for the locksmith first thing in the morning. Mr. Bartleby can drop off my message at the constabulary. Deering will know how to reach him quickly.”
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I had Mrs. Sloane put a writing desk and supplies in your room earlier today.”
“Thank you.” He quashed a twinge of regret. Now he’d have no excuse to come and borrow hers. “Well, good night, then.”
