Page 72 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
But to realize herfatherhad nieces, and thus Kit had cousins…it was a strange thought. One she really didn’t have time to focus on now.
“Kit,” hissed Bull as he tugged her around the corner. “There’s nae one down this way. Ye ken what that means?”
She was already reaching into her pocket to pull out the lockpicking roll Bull had requested she carry, “Because it’ll completely ruin the line of this corset, why do ball gowns no’ come with pockets?”
“I’ll keep watch,” she murmured, handing him the roll and forcing herself to focus. “If someone comes, pretend to faint.”
Bull snorted, already hiking up his petticoats to squat by the door to her father’s study while she pressed her back to the wainscotting and peered in both directions. “Pretend to faint?” he muttered. “Och, aye, just because I’m wearing a gown, I must be feeling faint. How verra stereotypical. I’ll have ye ken that women are strong, successful, and perfectly capable of picking a lock without fainting.”
“Fine,” she growled. “If someone comes, you can pick a fight with me about feminism.”
“And pockets. Remind me to introduce ye to my sister Marcia—got it!” he crowed triumphantly in a whisper.
Hurriedly, Kit pulled him to his feet, glancing about to ensure they were still unseen. Bull was already turning the doorknob and then they were both inside the room, no one the wiser.
As Bull turned the lock again, they both breathed a sigh of relief.
But when the knock came from the window, Kit gasped inalarm while Bull whirled about, pulling a knife from a hidden location, proving hedidhave at least one pocket.
The pale face on the other side of the pane of glass frowned at them, but Kit’s lips pulled into a smile.
“Thank fook.”
Thorne was certain that,during his years taking missions for Blackrose, he’d been in more nerve-wracking situations. He must have. He had the scars to prove it. It was just that he couldn’t remember a single one. He’d been crouching behind the shrubbery for an hour, his back to the brick wall of what he hoped was Blackrose’s study, terrified as two of the most important people in the world to him went into danger without him.
Still, his years as Blackrose’s cat burglar had served him well, and he’d had no trouble slipping onto the grounds unseen. Having long ago burned his old uniform, he’d had Bull find him a new suit of light-weight, easy-fitting dark gray.
His trousers were tucked into stockings, to the soles of which Bull had sewn leather to Thorne’s specifications. There’d been newly installed spikes embedded along the wall surrounding the Bonkinbone estate, but it hadn’t caused Thorne any issues.
Nay, it was thefearwhich threatened this mission.
The fear for Kit, and for Bull.
What if Blackrose recognized them? What if Bull wasn’t as graceful in a gown as he’d appeared? What if Kit, suddenly face to face with the man who’d abandoned her mother, punched Blackrose.
Cursing himself quietly, Thorne allowed his head to drop back against the bricks.Ye’re no’ helping, coming up with all these worst-case scenarios.They’ll be fine.
Theyhadto be fine.
Some sixth sense dragged him back to alertness and Thorne tensed, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet so he could throw himself into action if needed.
The guard who strolled past was nearly as silent as Thorne, a rifle cradled in the crook of his arm. The faint glow from the cigar dangling from the man’s lips was the only hint obvious in the darkness—it must’ve been the scent of the thing which alerted Thorne.
Fook. Blackrose had patrolling goons who were nearly as well trained as Thorne himself was? He needed to get out of here before they noticed his faint footprints, or some other giveaway.
Kit, where are ye?
After the guard had passed, Thorne risked pushing himself to his feet so he could peek into the window. The room was dark and he couldn’t be absolutely certain this was Blackrose’s study, or even if the safe was there…but he had to trust the floorplans Fawkes had brought them.
Come on, come on.
If he hadn’t been looking right at the door, he would’ve missed the flash of movement, then the spill of light as the thing opened and two figures darted through before closing it again.
In that moment, Thorne released the breath he’d been holding.
Bull’s coiffure might be ridiculously elaborate, but Thorne thought he’d recognize Kit’s features anywhere.
They’d made it. He was in the right place.
