“Are you done, my lord?” the clerk called from the other end of the vault.
Stephen looked back at his partner. “Miss Hale, we are partners. I give you my word I will wait.”
She shook her head. “Your word?” She glanced at the clerk and lowered her voice. “The word of a Doubleday means nothing to me. You are a family of liars. You accused my grandfather of murder. Lies, all of it.”
Stephen bit out a curse and took her arm, propelling her farther down the vault.
“My lord?” the bank manager said, his voice impatient. “Shall I ask Mr. Coutts to assist?”
“One moment,” Stephen answered, then swung to face his partner. “This is not about our grandfathers, Miss Hale. This is about you and me. This is about you not being able to trust a man, even one who has given you every reason to trust.”
“Every reason?” she shot back. “What about Seven Dials? What about when you read the journal before me?”
“Josephine!” he growled. “This is getting us nowhere. If we can’t trust each other, then we’re no better than our grandfathers, and, after all these years, we’ve come no farther. We’re partners. Partners until the end. Together until the end. Look how far we’ve come working together.”
She frowned at him. Frowned at the haversack she still held. And then, with her jaw firmly clenched and her eyes blazing with fury, she held out the sack.
He reached out to take it, but she didn’t let go, and he inadvertently pulled her close. “I’m going to trust you, Westman,” she whispered. “One time. But I warn you, if you don’t show up at the ball tonight, I will personally come and shoot you, then pry the haversack from your cold, stiff fingers. Don’t double-cross me.”
Stephen held back a smile at her threat. “I’ll be there,” he answered, taking the sack. “You can count on it.”
Chapter Thirteen
“He’s not coming,” Josie said, pacing the assembly rooms where Catie’s ball was in full swing.
“Stop worrying,” Ashley said, sipping the glass of punch her last dance partner had fetched for her. “It’s still early.”
“It’s after midnight,” Josie said. “He’s not coming.” She clenched her dainty emerald silk reticule, sewn to match her dress, and could feel her half of the map inside.
“Why does it matter if he comes, anyway?” Maddie asked. “I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t,” Josie answered. It was a lie and a blatant one. It mattered very much whether Westman made an appearance, and not simply because she wanted to see the contents of that haversack. It was more than that now. There was more between them than the treasure, the adventure, and her grandfather’s legacy. There was trust.
What had Westman said today? Together until the end.
She’d trusted Westman more than any other man. This afternoon, it had pained her physically to allow him to walk away with that haversack. She couldn’t understand why she had done it, except that she wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe there was one man in the world who would keep his word, who would look at a woman and see her as an equal. All her life she’d wanted to be accepted, to be treated on equal terms with men.
Rising on tiptoes to see the entry stairway, Josie murmured, “He has something of mine.” Something just as precious as the contents of that haversack.
“Where’s Catie?” Ashley asked. “Perhaps we should check on her.”
Maddie nodded, but Josie shook her head. “She said she was fine and shooed Maddie and me away. And then, a moment ago, I saw Valentine lead her across the dance floor and through that servants’ door.”
Ashley raised her eyebrows. “Really? How wicked.”
“How wonderful,” Maddie said. “I’m so glad that she’s happy.”
Josie sighed. If only Westman would show up, she too would be happy. Not as happy as Catie probably was on the other side of that door, but happy all the same. She craned her neck to search the room once more, caught her mother’s eye, and quickly looked the other way. Was it just her imagination, or was her mother watching her even more closely than usual tonight?
“What does he have?” Maddie said, and Josie tore her eyes away from the other guests to glance at her cousin.
“What?”
“I said, what does Westman have? You said he has something of yours.”
“Nothing.” Josie shook her head. “It’s not important.”
“Then why are you—?”
