“What are you doing here?” More to the point, how had she known where to find him?
She slipped her hand into a pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I found Willems to give you this, and he told me where I could find you.” She held the paper out to him.
Grayson took the paper and unfolded it, revealing a list of names. “You could have asked Willems to give it to me.”
She looked out of the window, avoiding his gaze. “I could have, yes.”
“What is it?”
“The list of maids’ names Ada gathered from Lady Stonefield.”
He refolded the paper and slid it into his breast pocket. “Will you help me with the interviews again?”
“I don’t see how my help is necessary.” Her hands clasped in front of her again, and she backed toward the open door.
“The maids trust you more than they do me. I swear half the girls we interviewed yesterday were scared I’d seduce them.”
“Or hopeful of it,” she quipped, then shook her head. “No. I shouldn’t.”
And yet she wavered. He could see it, so he tried again. “You would be a wonderful asset. You know it.”
She still seemed unconvinced.
“We’ll find the necklace much sooner if we work side by side.”
“No. The list must be my only contribution. You’ve got it now.” She backed toward the doorway, farther away from him, like a wild animal cornered. “But”—she took a bold step forward—“I’ll help you search this room first. Then I’m done. I’ve decided I don’t need Lady Willow’s patronage. So, it’s no longer my business whether or not you find the necklace and take a wife.”
It was very much her business. “What has changed?”
“Nothing.” She looked around the room nervously. “Nothing. But since I do appear to have had a hand in losing the necklace, it’s only fitting I help find it.” She nodded toward his chest pocket. “I got you the list, now I’ll help search this room. Then, I’ve done my duty and assuaged my guilt.”
“As you wish.” He’d gratefully accept any time she gave him. He’d use every second of it to accomplish his goal. “Help me move this wardrobe?” He pushed his palms between the small space he’d created between the furniture and the wall. “You pull, and I’ll push.”
“I’m not sure this is an efficient use of time. How in the world would the necklace have gotten lost behind this when it takes two people to move it?” But she gripped her fingers around a slight edge on the front of the wardrobe, anyway, pronouncing, “Ready when you are.”
Grayson heaved his shoulder against the solid oak. “Now!”
The heavy furniture moved the length of his foot, and Grayson plopped to the ground.
“Are you all right?” Henrietta inquired, laughing.
“Perfectly fine. You?”
“Better than you. Have we moved it enough, do you think?” She stood over him, peeking into the darkness behind the wardrobe. “You’re closer to the floor. Do you see anything?”
Her. He saw her. And smelled her. And was close enough to yank her down onto his lap in imitation of the position they’d shared last night in the dark hallway. It was the direct way to get what he wanted. But perhaps not the wisest. He’d learned much in the last year he wished to forget, but much, as well, that might prove useful. Patience, for one. A direct attack did not have to come all at once. He turned to inspect the space behind the wardrobe. “Nothing,” he sighed.
She backed away from him. “Well, we’re not done yet. Or are we? How much of the room had you searched before I arrived?”
Grayson stood and dusted off his pants. “None of it.” He pulled more dust covers from furniture and piled them in the middle of the room.
Henrietta placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the uncovered room. “The necklace won’t be on top of anything. Someone would have found it.” Henrietta opened drawers and peered into the dark slivers of space, her movements a mixture of curiosity and determination.
But the more she looked, the less Grayson did. He watched her instead. They would never find the necklace. It had hung around the necks of generations of proper ducal brides, but it was lost forever. An heirloom, a tradition—gone.
That morning, the Duchess of Valingford had demanded the necklace and a proposal.
She knew as well as Grayson did that the necklace symbolized the future duke’s bride. But Grayson no longer cared about finding the necklace if the bride was all wrong. And by all wrong, he meant not Henrietta. He didn’t want a Lady Willow Willoughby. He wanted Hen. And he knew, after their last kiss, that she wanted him, too.