One of the servants had dropped something. That was all.
He lowered his head again but got no closer when he heard Maharajah growl.
Maharajah didn’t growl at the servants.
And—wait a moment. What servants? Stephen didn’t retain any but his housekeeper.
Stephen had the library door open in an instant. Maharajah was staring at the stairs and growling. “What’s wrong?” Alice asked, her voice petulant and full of disappointment. Well, he was disappointed too. His cock was hard and eager. He was more than ready, and yet he couldn’t ignore the fact that his dog was poised to attack and that a noise had come from upstairs. There was no reason for his housekeeper to be moving things about upstairs at—he glanced at the clock on the library mantel— two o’clock in the morning.
Then he heard something else. This time it was a sort of scraping, and he cursed. He sprinted across the foyer—thankful he hadn’t removed his pants yet—and took the stairs two at a time. Maharajah followed.
As he’d expected, the first floor was dark and silent, and Maharajah urged him higher. The second floor was equally barren, but Maharajah ran to the door housing the attic stairs. It was standing wide open. “Miss Hale!” he bellowed. Maharajah barked.
Another thunk, followed by a curse and the sound of scrambling. “Stay!” Stephen commanded and was up the stairs in time to catch her squeezing behind an old armoire. “What the devil are you doing?” he shouted when he saw her. It was a rhetorical question. He could see quite clearly what she was doing. Packing straw was strewn about the attic, the contents of a half dozen crates were scattered here and there, and Josephine Hale, dressed in trousers and a man’s shirt, was covered with straw.
To her credit, she didn’t hide. As soon as he burst in on her, she stood straight and brushed at some of the debris covering her. “Good evening, Lord Westman. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” But her tone was not the least bit apologetic, and she had a look on her face that could only be described as gloating.
Stephen advanced on her. It was bad enough that she had sneaked into his library, bad enough she had involved him in this chase for treasure, bad enough that he’d almost taken her on the floor of this very attic last night, but now she had come again, without his permission—again—and begun going through his private things. The Doubleday things, which were none of her business.
He closed in, his anger peaking, but she didn’t back down or even look alarmed. “I can see you are in high dudgeon at being interrupted. Please, go back to”—she gestured absently at his bare chest—“whatever you were doing. I shall be quieter.”
“How the hell did you get in here?” he said, voice low and menacing. Given three more minutes, he really was going to kill her. He’d grab her, break the attic window, and push her through. And then he’d jump too, because by the time she was done with him, he was going to be stark raving mad.
“Don’t worry, Lord Westman,” she said, her look patronizing. “I didn’t use the window. I came in through the servants’ door.”
He glared down at her. “When?”
She made a show of trying to remember, and then said, “Oh, while you were showing that woman into your library. I suppose with your faces all mashed together like that, you didn’t take notice of me.”
Stephen swallowed. She had been in the house when he and Alice had come in the door? “Alice has nothing to do with this. With us.”
She shrugged, easily dismissing the woman and him. “I didn’t say she did. Now, if you’ve all the answers you wanted, can I get back to business? You can go back to your . . . uh, entertainment for the evening.”
Stephen took a deep breath and tried not to think how close that attic window was. He could drag her two feet and have her through in a matter of seconds. Then it would all be over. The misery would end. “I don’t want to go back to my entertainment,” he began.
“Really?” Josephine asked. “She looked rather pretty and, ah—well-endowed. Is she downstairs waiting for you?”
Damn. Alice. She was still downstairs and probably wondering what the hell happened to him. He looked back at the woman beside him. “You have to leave. Now.”
She shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I have a lot of work to do here, and I know how you dislike women who don’t pull their weight. That was the agreement we made when we formed this partnership. Was it not?”
Stephen opened his mouth and then clamped it shut again. “Are we partners once again? Are you back to sharing the map with me?” Damn it, but if he didn’t need the money from the treasure so badly, he would have walked away from her and never looked back.
She pursed her lips. “Perhaps. If you hold up your end of the deal. I can’t be the only one slaving away up here.”
“Are you implying that I am not pulling my weight?”
She thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it . . .”
“Look, you little hellion—”
She held up a finger. “Language, Lord Westman. Really.”
That was it. She was going through the window.
“Stephen?” a sugary voice called from below. “Darling, are you coming back? I’m waiting for you.”
Stephen paused in the act of reaching for Josephine Hale. She raised one brow. “Stephen? How sweet. And you call her Alice?”
