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“He’s gone,” she whispered. “This is it.”
“Let’s go.” He rose, pulling her to her feet. “I want to see this fabled bracelet.” And he did. He would worry about the curse later.
“As do I.” She kissed him quickly as he turned the door latch. “For luck.”
They would need it.
Chapter 14
Gabrielle had a bad feeling when Robespierre’s door was locked. None of the other doors had been locked.
“This will slow us down,” Ramsey muttered behind her.
“Not much,” she promised, extracting her special hairpin, kneeling before the door and beginning on the lock. Ramsey kept watch beside her. She could still feel his hands on her, still feel the way his fingers slid over her skin, making her want more. She had to put aside the kisses and the feel of him, hot and hard even through the fabric of his breeches, and concentrate.
This lock was the last thing they needed. She anticipated locks and obstacles inside the office. Obviously the bracelet would not be sitting on display in full view. But she had thought access to the office would be the easy part.
She turned her hairpin one way, felt the lock click, and eased the pin back the other way to complete the task.
“You do know this bracelet is cursed.”
She concentrated on the delicate task at hand. Of course she had heard about the curse of le Saphir Blanc. But she didn’t believe in it. This was the eighteenth century. No one believed in curses anymore. A bracelet was nothing more than metal and gems. It could not give bad luck. Those who had failed stealing it before were careless or amateur. Their failure had nothing to do with the bracelet or a curse promising bad luck.
Snick.
“There.” She rose and dusted off the knees of her breeches. “Just a lock. No curse.” She turned the handle and stepped forward. Ramsey grabbed her arm.
“I’ll go first.”
This was her mission and she wanted to be the first to enter the office, but she didn’t argue. A successful thief learned to be flexible. Sometimes the pilfering did not go according to plan. Sometimes a plan had to be abandoned.
But that would not happen tonight. The door lock was a minor inconvenience. Now they would search the office, take the bracelet, and find a hiding place within the building. They could not go out on the street until morning because of the curfew and the patrols. Alex had suggested making their way back to the house via the sewers, but that meant risking running into a rat or twenty. She’d rather hide in one of the offices until morning and then sneak out the back.
It would be no hardship to be confined in close quarters with Ramsey. She rather thought they might continue where they had left off. It was a bad idea, certainly, but so was stealing the bracelet, and here she was.
Ramsey gestured her into the office, and she closed the door quietly behind her. Like Saint-Just’s office, this one was sumptuously appointed. “For a man so fond of equality, Robespierre has quite a collection of the finer things,” Ramsey remarked, running his hand across the polished mahogany desk. Gabrielle’s eyes danced over the room, seeing the Turkish rug, the ornately carved chairs, the ormolu table in the corner.
“Where would he keep the bracelet?” she asked. “Should we look for a safe?” Quite suddenly she was afraid they would not find it. She wondered how Ffoulkes had known the bracelet was in this office. What if his information was incorrect?
“I’ll look for a safe. You search the desk,” Ramsey directed, all confidence.
She nodded, letting his obvious assurance infuse her with the resolve she needed. She drew the curtains closed, crossed quickly to the desk, and lit the lamp on the edge. A low fire still burned in the hearth, but it was on the other side of the room and didn’t give her enough light. Neither did the moonlight. Ramsey was looking behind picture frames for a hidden safe, and she began to try the drawers of the desk.
There were five, and all were locked. “Curse it!”
Ramsey turned from the painting he was peering behind. “It’s already been cursed.”
She frowned at him. “No, not the bracelet, this desk. Every drawer is locked.”
“Can you pick them?” he asked, crossing to her.
“Yes, but it will take more time.”
“How long?”
She studied the small locks and considered. Small locks were far more difficult than larger ones. They required delicacy and finesse, which was fine when she was in her room on Audley Street practicing, but she was in Robespierre’s office, and she was nervous. Her hands shook, and her palms were damp with perspiration.
“An hour?” she said, though she feared longer. It was already quarter past twelve. They had an hour and a quarter left. And what if Robespierre decided to end his business early? Or the escort Ramsey had tied up got free and gave the alarm? Or the guard at the gate got curious and came to search for them himself? She had wanted to be out of here quickly.
