Page 54 of His Improper Lady

“I am surprised to see you here,” Desiree went on, ringing for a servant. “I thought I was going to fetch you from your office.”

“You were, but I wanted to change our plans. Instead of the other location in Marylebone, let’s try the Pimlico area.”

“Very well. Why?”

“Because last night I researched Alistair Moreland’s wife and learned where she lives. I assume it is the same address, as it’s been in his name since before you were born. He lived in Belgravia.”

“Not a long drive to Pimlico.” Desiree clearly understood the import of his words immediately.

“Exactly.”

“Megan Moreland wrote me. Apparently the twins—what did you call them?”

“The Greats.”

“Well, their wives think it will be a lovely idea to visit Aunt Wilhemina, so day after tomorrow we will be going to see her. You’ll come with us, won’t you?” An unaccustomed look of uncertainty flitted over her features. “I’d rather not be alone with so many aristocratic ladies.”

“Yes, I’ll go, too.” It warmed him to think she wanted him there, that perhaps she needed him. “But you’ll like Sabrina and Lilah. They’re very easy to be around—well, they’re married to Alex and Con, so they’d have to be.”

“I liked Alex and Con.”

“Most people do. Bit harder, I imagine, to live with them.” Tom grinned.

They continued to chat lightly through the meal, then drove to the area in Pimlico that Alex had circled. The driver let them down at the small triangular park. Tom cast a careful eye all around them to check for anyone following them. Reassured they were alone, they began to stroll, moving away from the park in a methodical path.

It was an hour later that they turned a corner and Desiree grabbed Tom’s arm. “Look!”

“I see it.” His gaze was focused on the next block and a row of white stone houses. They started forward in a rapid walk.

When they reached the row, they paused, looking all around them. The scene was just as Brock had described: a row of white stone terraced houses on one side of the street and across from it another row of terraced houses in differing materials and styles. They moved farther down the street, hardly daring to believe what they saw, and stopped in front of a door with a number five in gold above it.

“This is it.” Desiree’s voice was barely above a whisper. “We found it.”

“Do you know that—I mean, does your talent tell you that?”

“I’m not sure. Sometimes it’s difficult to separate what I think rationally from what my instinct tells me. Perhaps it’s both.” Desiree tilted her head and squinted. “Either way, it certainly fits Brock’s description.”

“Yes. Let’s walk,” Tom said, starting forward again. “We don’t want to be too obvious.” As they strolled, he said, “You want to break in, don’t you?”

“Of course. Don’t you? It’ll be dead easy—all we have to do is take the service steps down to the trade door, and then we’re hidden from sight while we break in.”

“It’s still theft.”

“It’s not theft. The things in the hiding place belong to my family,” Desiree argued.

Tom couldn’t help but laugh. “Try telling that to a bobby.”

“The bobbies don’t matter. We won’t get caught,” she tossed back. She bumped her shoulder against his arm lightly. “Come on. You know you want to see what’s hidden beside the mantel.”

Tom grinned at her. “You’re right. Let’s walk back and take another look.”

So it was that at one o’clock that night, Tom and Desiree stood in the same place, looking at the front of number five. There were no lights inside; the same was true of every house around them. It was a quiet street of early risers. A streetlamp cast its light directly in front of the house, but luckily they would only have to cross the short distance to the service steps down to the sublevel. Once down the stairs, they would be invisible to the street. The entrance stood in a pool of shadow at the base of the stairs.

Tom looked over at Desiree. She wasn’t dressed in her thief’s costume, which he thought a pity, but in the same simple dark dress she had worn the night Tom had followed her. “Ready?”

She nodded, and they slipped quietly from the shadows to the almost hidden staircase. Desiree carried the lantern, which was shielded into darkness, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs, she lifted the shield a narrow slit and held it over the lock. Tom pulled out his picks and inserted them. She immediately lowered the cover. The rest of the job was more by feel than by sight.

Tension built in Tom’s chest as he worked, a familiar mingling of excitement and fear. He smiled as he heard the telltale click, and he eased the door open. They were in the kitchen. There was enough light coming through the high windows that lay aboveground for them to make out the general bulk of objects around the room and make their way into the servants’ hall.