Stephen cleared his throat. “We’re looking for the Queen’s Palace.”
“You’ve found her. I’m the owner. What do you want?”
Stephen glanced at Josephine, and she looked right back at him, one eyebrow rising.
“We’re looking for items my—”
Josephine cleared her throat.
Stephen blew out a slow, measured breath. “Items our grandfathers might have left here. The name is Westman.”
“And Hale,” she added.
At that revelation, the man’s bushy gray eyebrows rose a good half inch. “Westman and Hale, you say? Oh, now that’s an interesting pairing. Yes, it is. Come in Lord Westman, Miss Hale. Let’s see if we can’t find what yer looking for.”
He motioned them inside the dark building, and despite her earlier assurances of traveling to Hell with him, Stephen felt his companion scoot closer. He put a comforting hand on her arm and watched as the old man motioned, with one bent finger, for them to follow.
The elderly owner led them toward what appeared to be the only source of light in the place. All around them giant shapes loomed, and there was the faint drip-drip-drip of water. Josephine Hale put her hand in his. Stephen took it, willing all unclean thoughts from his mind. It wasn’t easy, what with his blood still thudding in his ears and his cock slightly stiff from their kiss.
What was the use, really? He was a rake at heart. But he could rise above it. He would be the heir his family needed, the man his brother was. He would not take advantage of an innocent, foolish girl. Not again.
There was the screech of a cat, and Josephine Hale jumped into his arms with a tiny scream.
“We’re almost there,” the owner told her. Stephen could feel her trembling, but he also felt her straighten her shoulders and walk on. She was no coward; he’d give her that.
“It’s rather dark in here,” she said.
“I don’t imagine the price of a candle or lamp oil means much to a lady like you,” the man said, steering them around a tower of what looked like Turkish rugs. “But outside of Mayfair, we make do with a lot less.”
Stephen felt her shoulders straighten even more, a defensive gesture, or so he assumed, until she said, “I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me. I should keep my mouth shut.”
To Stephen’s amazement, the man chuckled. They’d reached the office and the source of the dim light. The man waved them inside. There was a small desk and two chairs and a door to an inner office behind the desk. “You’re Nathan Hale’s granddaughter, all right,” the owner said, following them inside. “You don’t have a proud bone in your body.”
Stephen tried not to guffaw.
“Ah, Lord Westman disagrees.” The warehouse’s owner took the seat behind his desk and Stephen allowed Josephine Hale the other chair. He took up guard behind her.
“I think she might have one proud bone,” Stephen said. Josephine shot him a glare, and he added, “Or two.”
“Can we please get on with the business?” she said.
“By all means.” Stephen extracted the yellowed paper from his tailcoat. “I found this among my grandfather’s papers.”
Below him, Josephine Hale snatched the paper from his hand. “Why didn’t you show it to me before?”
“I only found it this morning,” Stephen added, uncurling her fingers and handing the paper to the warehouse’s owner. “As you see, it has this name and address.”
The old man looked at the paper. “And you were wondering if we might have something of your grandfather’s still here.”
Stephen shrugged. “I didn’t think it would hurt to check.”
“It’s unlikely.” The man leaned back and steepled his fingers. “I remember your grandfather.” He looked at Josephine. “Yours, too. They came here sometimes in their seafaring days. I was a boy, couldn’t have been much older than one and ten, but I remember them. That’s a long time to keep something in storage.”
“Is there any way we might search?” she asked. “We’d be careful not to disturb anything.”
The man gave her an incredulous look and then glanced at Stephen. “Eager, ain’t you? It would take you years to search this place, and all you’d get for your trouble are rat bites and dirty hands.”
“But—”
