It's In His Kiss

“Come along, let’s be off before someone catches us right here.”

She nodded, then followed his lead down Barlow Place. Clair House was located less than a quarter mile away, and so Gareth had plotted a route for them to travel on foot, sticking, whenever they could, to the quiet side streets where they’d be less likely to be spotted by a member of the ton, traveling home via carriage from a party.

“How did you know your father wouldn’t be home this evening?” Hyacinth whispered as they approached the corner.

“I’m sorry?” He peered around the corner, making sure the coast was clear.

“How did you know your father wouldn’t be home?” she said again. “I was surprised that you would have knowledge of such a thing. I can’t imagine he makes you privy to his schedule.”

Gareth gritted his teeth, surprised by the bubble of irritation her question brought up inside of him. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I just do.” It was damned annoying, actually, that he was always so aware of his father’s movements, but at least he could take some satisfaction in knowing that the baron was similarly afflicted.

“Oh,” Hyacinth said. And it was all she said. Which was nice. Out of character, but nice.

Gareth motioned for her to follow as they made their way the short distance up Hay Hill, and then finally they were on Dover Street, which led to the alleyway behind Clair House.

“When was the last time you were here?” Hyacinth whispered as they crept up to the back wall.

“On the inside?” he asked brusquely. “Ten years. But if we’re lucky, that window”-he pointed to a ground-floor aperture, only a little out of their reach-“will still have a broken latch.”

She nodded appreciatively. “I was wondering how we were going to get in.”

They both held silent for a moment, looking up at the window.

“Higher than you remembered?” asked Hyacinth. But then, of course, she didn’t wait for an answer before adding, “It’s a good thing you brought me along. You can boost me up.”

Gareth looked from her to the window and back. It somehow seemed wrong to send her into the house first. He hadn’t considered this, though, when planning his entry.

“I’m not going to boost you up,” Hyacinth said impatiently. “So unless you’ve a crate hidden away somewhere, or perhaps a small ladder-”

“Just go,” Gareth practically growled, making a step for her with his hands. He had done this before, plenty of times. But it was a far different thing with Hyacinth Bridgerton brushing alongside his body than one of his school- chums.

“Can you reach?” he asked, hoisting her up.

“Mmm-hmm,” was the reply.

Gareth looked up. Right at her bottom. He decided to enjoy the view as long as she had no idea she was providing it.

“I just need to get my fingers under the edge,” she whispered.

“Go right ahead,” he said, smiling for the first time all night.

She twisted immediately around. “Why do you suddenly sound so equable?” she asked suspiciously.

“Just appreciating your usefulness.”

“I-” She pursed her lips together. “Do you know, I don’t think I trust you.”

“Absolutely you shouldn’t,” he agreed.

He watched as she jiggled the window, then slid it up and open.

“Did it!” she said, sounding triumphant even through her whisper.

He gave her an appreciative nod. She was fairly insufferable, but it seemed only fair to give credit where credit was due. “I’m going to push you up,” he said. “You should be able to-”

But she was already in. Gareth couldn’t help but stand back in admiration. Hyacinth Bridgerton was clearly a born athlete.

Either that or a cat burglar.

Her face appeared in the open window. “I don’t think anyone heard,” she whispered. “Can you get up by yourself?”

He nodded. “As long as the window is already open, it’s no trouble.” He’d done this before, several times, when he’d been a schoolboy, home on holiday. The exterior wall was made of stone, and there were a few rough spots, with outcroppings just long enough to wedge his foot. Add that to the one knobby bit he could grasp with his hand…

He was inside in under twenty seconds.

“I’m impressed,” Hyacinth said, peering back out the window.

“You’re impressed by strange things,” he said, brushing himself off.

“Anyone can bring flowers,” she said with a shrug.

“Are you saying all a man needs to do to win your heart is scale a building?”

She looked back out the window. “Well, he’d have to do a bit more than this. Two stories, at the very least.”

He shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. “You said that the diary mentioned a room decorated in shades of green?”

She nodded. “I wasn’t entirely certain of the meaning. It could have been a drawing room. Or maybe a study. But she did mention a small, round window.”

“The baroness’s office,” he decided. “It’s on the second floor, right off the bedroom.”

“Of course!” She was whispering, but her excitement still rang through. “That would make perfect sense. Especially if she wanted to keep it from her husband. She wrote that he never visited her rooms.”

“We’ll go up the main stairs,” Gareth said quietly. “We’ll be less likely to be heard. The back ones are too close to the servants’ quarters.”

She nodded her agreement, and together they crept through the house. It was quiet, just as Gareth would have expected. The baron lived alone, and when he was out, the servants retired early.

Except one. Gareth stopped short, needing a moment to reassess. The butler would be awake; he never went to bed when Lord St. Clair was still expected back and might require assistance.

“This way,” Gareth mouthed to Hyacinth, doubling back to take a different route. They would still take the main stairs, but they would go the long way around to get there.

Hyacinth followed his lead, and a minute later they were creeping up the stairs. Gareth pulled her to the side; the steps had always creaked in the center, and he rather doubted his father possessed the funds to have them repaired.

Once in the upstairs hall, he led Hyacinth to the baroness’s office. It was a funny little room, rectangular with one window and three doors, one to the hall, one to the baroness’s bedroom, and the last to a small dressing room that was more frequently used for storage since there was a much more comfortable dressing area directly off the bedchamber.

Gareth motioned Hyacinth inside, then stepped in behind her, closing the door carefully, his hand tight on the doorknob as it turned.

It shut without a click. He let out a breath.

“Tell me exactly what she wrote,” he whispered, pulling back the drapes to allow in a bit of moonlight.

“She said it was in the armadio,” Hyacinth whispered back. “Which is probably a cabinet. Or maybe a set of drawers. Or-” Her eyes fell on a tall but narrow curio cabinet. It was triangular in shape, tucked into one of the rear corners. The wood was a dark, rich hue, and it stood on three spindly legs, leaving about two feet of space under its base. “This is it,” Hyacinth whispered excitedly. “It has to be.”

She was across the room before Gareth even had a chance to move, and by the time he joined her, she had one of the drawers open and was searching through.

“Empty,” she said, frowning. She knelt and pulled open the bottom drawer. Also empty. She looked up at Gareth and said, “Do you think someone removed her belongings after she passed away?”

“I have no idea,” he said. He gave the cabinet door a gentle tug and pulled it open. Also empty.

Hyacinth stood, planting her hands on her hips as she regarded the cabinet. “I can’t imagine what else…” Her words trailed off as she ran her fingers over the decorative carvings near the top edge.

“Maybe the desk,” Gareth suggested, crossing the distance to the desk in two strides.

But Hyacinth was shaking her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “She wouldn’t have called a desk an