Page 11 of The Lady Glass
“That will be all, Granger. You can see to my things in the morning. Turn in for the night.”
“If you insist.” Granger might appreciate the offer for now, but if the culprit were truly in his room, Rolland imagined the valet would not be asleep before his assistance was required again.
The moment the closet door shut, Rolland went to his desk and slipped his knife into his hand. Then he made a point of noisily busying himself for bed. When he blew out his candle, he sat down hard on his bed and rustled the covers in the dark. When he finished, he slipped his feet back to the ground and moved with careful, silent steps toward the drapes.
If someone was there, they would eventually try to escape. And if no one was there, Rolland would simply blame the war for more of his madness. He kept his breathing slow and even, though his pulse was beginning to pound loud in his ears as he crept closer and closer to the window. Had he imagined it, or didthe curtain move a little?
He froze in his step. Should he have confided in Granger and risked looking idiotic if he was proved wrong? At one time, Rolland could easily have claimed being physically stronger than most of his crew, but with his injury, he would be at a severe disadvantage in any skirmish.
One step closer and again the curtain seemed to shift ever so slightly. Rolland did not stop moving this time; he pushed himself ever closer until he was on the opposite side of the curtain from the window. If the person tried to flee through the window, Rolland would have greater luck taking him down from behind.
It all happened in a moment. The curtain pushed away from the wall, but instead of the intruder going to the window, he came out on the same side Rolland was on, taking him utterly by surprise. Acting on impulse, Rolland hunched low and dove forward, charging into him. The only thought that flashed through his mind, besides the real possibility that he might not come off the victor, was that at least he had not imagined the whole thing and his sanity was intact.
When they made contact, the intruder’s slight frame flew backward to the ground. Rolland took advantage of the element of surprise and threw his body on top of the downed man. It was easier than it should have been to pin the man’s thin arms down. He might not need his knife after all.
“Granger!” Rolland yelled. “Granger, get out here!”
The squirming, pitiful escape efforts of the intruder led Rolland to believe one of two things: the intruder was either inexperienced or simply very young.
Granger stumbled out of the closet and lit a candle. When he saw Rolland on the floor, he rushed over. “Cap’n, what in the name of all that is ’oly ’appened to you?” When he held up the candle, Rolland got his first good look at his intruder.
Or, should he say, violinist.
Her eyes were wide with a swirl of fear and shock, and her brown hair lay disheveled from its knot. For a moment, all he could do was stare down at her. For land’s sake, the sheer idea of romance was a toxic one. He was in his head and not thinking straight.
“Cap’n?”
The title shook sense into him. It took less than a second more for him to realize that he had knocked the violinist flat on the floor, was sitting on her, and all while wearing only his open-necked shirtsleeves. He commanded a fleet of men and did not embarrass easily, but there was no denying the heat stealing over him as he registered the soft flesh under his palms. He pulled himself off her but hovered close on one knee out of necessity, keeping his attention alert on her. Just because she was a woman did not mean she was not a spy. He was not so naive to believe her gender had no intelligence or initiative, and he had already sensed something unusual about this one.
“She was hiding behind my curtain,” Rolland offered by way of explanation to Granger before acknowledging the violinist. “Who are you and why are you in my bedchamber?”
Her cheeks filled with color. “May I sit up at least?”
Rolland shuffled back, giving her a foot of breathing space and no more before nodding.
She sat up slowly, and a small groan emitted from her lips. She rubbed her back—a back that Rolland could easily have done a great deal of damage to with the way he’d barreled into her. “Forgive me, sir. I became lost looking for the refreshing room.”
“Try again.” Rolland did not have to be an expert on truth-telling, like Marcus, to see through her story. “A musician would use the servants’ stairs if they had need of anything. They would not wander through the main house.”
“Mu-musician? How did you know who I was?”
“Your dress.” He would not flatter her by explaining he’d noticed her talent and beauty earlier, not when her bell-shaped skirt defining her waist, poofy white sleeves tied with embroidered ribbon at her elbows, and velvet bodice gave her away. “Why were you in my room? The truth this time.”
“It matters little. You will never believe me.”
Would he? She seemed to be in costume, so what station was she? A servant would not be so naturally assertive. Nor would their speech be so polished.
The glimmer of candlelight caught in her eyes. Radiant amber. He knew at once why she had seemed so familiar. She was the woman who’d tripped the thief when he’d passed through London. Her gaze met his easily, although she adeptly avoided looking at his exposed chest.
“Try me.” He kept his tone as friendly as possible, like Marcus had once instructed him to do when attempting to ascertain the truth. This woman could’ve killed him in his sleep, but Rolland wanted to give her a chance to explain her motivation for invading his privacy.
A look of resignation passed over her. Her high cheekbones seemed to soften, and she dropped her gaze. “Something was stolen from me. I was attempting to search the rooms when you found me.”
Another thief? Rolland met Granger’s confused gaze. That was not at all what he’d expected her to say. “Can you be certain something of yours was taken and not simply misplaced? Do you have any witnesses?”
Her almond-shaped eyes flashed to his, the resignation instantly replaced with fire. “I am quite certain. And I am the only witness that is required.”
Rolland raised his brow but felt safe enough to take her at her word. He was just now beginning to feel the fire return to the top of his wounded shoulder and down his arm. He had been toofocused on the task at hand to have noticed it earlier. “Tell me what is missing, and I will ask His Grace’s staff to watch for it.”
