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“Is there someone in particular you hope to dance with?” Worley asked.
Lady Clara cast a flirtatious smile in his direction. “Perhaps a handsome gentleman such as yourself.”
“Oh. Well.” A faint blush coated Worley’s cheeks, then he cleared his throat. Apparently, he didn’t really want to dance with her.
Norah bit her lip, wondering how much time had passed. Was Simon already waiting outside, worried why she hadn’t yet made an appearance?
“May I have the honor of a dance?” Worley asked at last, much to Norah’s relief.
Lady Clara’s face lightened as if he’d presented her with a special gift on Christmas morning. “I would be positively delighted.” She cast Norah a sympathetic look, suggesting she was sorry for stealing him away. “If you don’t mind, Miss Wright.”
“Of course not.” Though pleased to have Lady Clara’s attention otherwise occupied, she hated to lose Worley’s assistance in keeping watch. Yet it couldn’t be helped.
Norah waited until the pair moved toward the dance floor and then eased toward the terrace doors, her desire to see Simon warring with her wish to be careful. With a last glance around, she slipped outside.
The terrace seemed dark after coming from the bright ballroom. No one was visible in the narrow pool of light. Her stomach sank with the fear she’d missed Simon.
Then a warm hand reached out from the dark to take hers, and her heart flew. “Simon.”
“Norah.” He breathed her name, making it sound wonderfully exotic. He pulled her close, his gaze sweeping over her face, seeming to search for anything that had changed since they’d last been together, though it had only been a few days.
His hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, suddenly feeling that all was well with the world once again.
“How have you been since the wedding?” he asked.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she could easily make out his concerned expression. To think he realized how hard it had been to say goodbye to Ella put a lump in her throat. “It’s going to be a difficult adjustment.”
“I’m sure.”
That he hadn’t tried to dismiss her concern or placate her was more comforting than she could’ve guessed. “The house is so quiet without her. We’re a little lost. Even Grandfather.”
“How long will they be gone?”
“Two weeks or more, depending on how the journey goes.” She leaned in, drawing some of his strength. She’d missed everything about him, from his scent to his kindness and so much more. “What of you?”
He offered a partial, one-shouldered shrug. “I’m well enough, though I don’t have much to report on the coin.” He told her about the crates, the situation still bothering him.
“Doesn’t it seem odd that whoever is behind this didn’t simply take the entire crate?” Norah asked. “It’s almost as if they’re toying with you. One item here. Another there.”
Simon nodded. “I have considered the same thing. But why?”
“To damage the museum’s reputation? Or perhaps yours.”
“To what end?”
She pondered the question. “The only reason that comes to mind is to force you to close the museum. Could it be your cousin, Lady Mendenhall?” Then she shook her head as doubt filled her. “But why would she act now?”
“I agree. Which brings me back to Stockton or a competitor. I’ve visited a few of the more likely ones but haven’t come to any conclusions.” Simon scowled. “Perhaps it’s time to stir the pot.”
Something in his tone caused worry to skitter along her spine. “How so?”
“I’m not sure. But waiting and watching hasn’t gained me anything.”
Norah rested her gloved hand on his lapel. “Do be careful, Simon. This could be dangerous.”
He covered her hand with his. “I know. Thank you for your concern.”
She glanced toward the ballroom, wishing they had more time. “Will you keep me apprised?”
