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Lord Musgrave let out an outraged huff, but Sabrina simply nodded.
As she led her father toward the ballroom exit, the old poop was clearly delivering her a scold. Good thing Graemewasn’tcourting the lass, because her dear old da would no doubt pitch a heinous fit. But Graeme had gotten through to Sabrina about Cringlewood, and that’s what counted—not fruitless imaginings of time spent with a woman he’d likely never see again.
Back to work, old boy.
His work was the only thing that mattered.
Chapter Five
Graeme’s sweep of the upper floors had included a visit to Lord Peregrim’s study to check on his lordship’s snuffbox collection. A burly footman was guarding the priceless trinkets, and the fellow had reacted quite poorly when Graeme snuck into the room. To escape a dustup, he’d acted like a drunken sot who’d lost his way to the water closet. He’d also crossed paths with Aden, who’d reported that he’d found nothing amiss.
He was beginning to think the entire evening was a wild goose chase, and although Aden wasn’t holding the lack of progress against him, it was still hard not to feel like a failure.
Again.
He mentally shook his head, impatient with that thought.
Taking the servants’ stairs down to the main floor, he’d just rounded the corner of the mostly deserted hall when a door that led to the terrace creaked slowly open. Graeme retreated back to the corner, easing out only far enough to keep an eye on the door.
A powdered head cautiously appeared and did a furtive check of the hall. Then the man, dressed as a footman, slipped through. He tugged his liveried coat into place and headed toward the front of the house.
Perhaps he was indeed a footman on legitimate business, and the furtive attitude was the result of an illicit encounter with a lusty matron out in the gardens. But Graeme had made a point of registering the faces of all the household staff, and he’d not seen this one. So unless the fellow had spent the entire evening servicing a string of ladies, it looked like the thieves had finally taken the bait.
The fake footman calmly paused to accept empty glasses from a pair of cup-shot dandies. Once the idiots wandered off, he dumped the glasses into a nearby potted plant and proceeded to the front of the mansion. Luckily for him, the entrance hall was busy with early departures, and the other servants too distracted to recognize an imposter.
The man slipped up the central staircase unnoticed, and Graeme slipped up after him. It was clear he was heading to the family bedrooms for a spot of productive pilfering.
Got ye, ye bastard.
Graeme retrieved the knife stowed in the specially designed pocket of his tailcoat. He usually carried additional knives in his boots, but these affairs demanded breeches and stockings and bloody awful dancing shoes, which meant few places to hide weaponry.
The footman reached the second floor, then ghosted down the hall toward the family suites. Graeme was taking the rest of the stairs two at a time when he heard a rush of footsteps behind him.
“Graeme!” hissed a familiar voice.
Cursing, he turned to see Vivien pelting up the stairs, with her silky skirts bunched in her hands and the large plumes on her head bouncing wildly.
“Not now,” he hissed back. “I’m working.”
“Never mind that. We’ve got bigger problems.”
“I just spotted one of the thieves. I’ve got to go.”
When he started up, Vivien yanked on his arm, almost tumbling them both down the stairs.
He made a grab for her. “You daft woman, what are you doing?”
“It’s Sabrina. She’s in trouble.”
“But she left with her father a half hour ago.”
“No, I just saw her leave the ballroom with Cringlewood, and I was too far away to intervene. I’ve checked the drawing room and the supper room, and she’s not in either.”
Graeme’s heart felt like it had slammed into a brick wall. “Where’s Aden?”
“I can’t find him. I just happened to spot you going up the stairs.”
Graeme cast a frustrated glance down the hall.
