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“Damn,” Simon muttered as he unwrapped the clay pot from a thick cloth. He was anxious to see what the other two wrapped bundles contained.
The scuff of a shoe on the stairs reached his ear. He stilled as the hair stirred on the back of his neck. Ridiculous when it had to be Miles or Emerson coming to see him.
His stomach fisted at the sight of Stockton on the landing. The man jerked to a halt at the sight of Simon, his gaze taking in the cloth-wrapped items on his desk.
The director’s eyes went wide, his nostrils flaring in surprise. He stared at Simon, and his mouth moved as if he were deciding what to say.
“What is it?” a voice asked from behind Stockton.
Simon leaned back in the chair as if he had all the time in the world. As if every muscle in his body weren’t bunched for a fight.
“We have an unexpected complication,” Stockton said, then stepped aside so the other man could join him.
“Come to collect a few things?” Simon asked, gesturing toward the artifacts.
Vincent Evans glared at Simon, his mouth twisting with irritation. “You weren’t supposed to be here this evening, Vanbridge.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Norah, something’s notright,” Lena whispered as the carriage rolled to a halt before the museum. “I’m certain of it.”
Her statement heightened Norah’s nerves. She had a similar feeling, though she couldn’t say why. “All the more reason we need to go inside. Simon could be hurt.”
“James, can you please accompany us?” Norah asked the footman when he assisted them to step down.
“Of course, miss.” He unhooked the carriage light and held it aloft. His tall, broad-shouldered form was reassuring, though it didn’t lessen Norah’s growing concern for Simon.
After requesting their driver to wait, they hurried up the stairs to the front door.
“I thought to knock, but…” Norah reached past James for the door, somehow unsurprised to find it unlocked.
“That’s not good,” Lena whispered.
“Perhaps the two of you should wait here while I have a look,” James suggested, his voice quiet.
“We’ll come with you.” If Simon was hurt or in danger, surely more of them would be better than less.
“But—” James began, but Norah shook her head.
“We are coming, too.” She glanced at Lena, who nodded, despite the worry pinching her features.
James stepped inside with the light held high. A faint knocking sound echoed from the rear of the museum, bringing them to a halt. “Shall we follow the sound?” he asked in a whisper.
Lena shared a look with Norah then shook her head. “We should go upstairs.”
Norah didn’t question her. This was eerily similar to when they’d found Simon hurt not so long ago. On shaking legs, she followed James up the stairs, all of them being as quiet as possible. Doing so in ball gowns with the rustling yards of fabric was no easy feat.
Soon, muffled voices drifted toward them, and the glow of a light was visible from the floor where the offices were. With a worried glance at Norah and Lena, James set the lantern on the stairs and edged upward, one step at a time with the sisters close behind him. When they neared the top, Norah tugged on James’s suit coat to stop him, wanting to listen to whomever was speaking.
“If you’d been home where you were supposed to be this evening, this wouldn’t be necessary.” The man’s voice was angry and vaguely familiar.
It took only a moment for Norah to remember where she’d heard it—at Evans’s museum. He’d been angry then as well.
“Terribly sorry to inconvenience you.” Simon’s dry reply caused Norah’s knees to nearly buckle with relief. Thank goodness he sounded unhurt. “Then again, I’m not the one who has been stealing,” he continued. The bite in his tone made it clear how angry he was.
“Not stealing, exactly.” Norah was certain that came from Stockton. “Merely hiding a few things for a time.”
“Pardon me if I don’t see a difference,” Simon countered.
