She found that picture on the other side of the hallway and it took Meredith’s breath away. The Duchess of Castlemore was every bit the graceful beauty Meredith remembered her to be. She had long brown hair, falling down around her shoulder and framing a sculpted face. With a soft smile and happy eyes, Meredith could easily see her being desired by any man who came upon her.
Meredith walked away again, this time hoping to see a portrait of Heath himself. Her interest grew the further down the hallway she went, but she saw none. But as she continued to search, Meredith noticed an unusual number of expensive items—from vases, to portraits, even elaborate sculptures.
Soon, as she continued along, she forgot all about looking for his portrait. She began to study the items she came across, alarmed at the sheer display of wealth surrounding her. A few of them seemed familiar and all she could think of was the people Heath associated himself with. He wasn’t same person she’d once known. A voice told her that he might have stolen them all but she shoved it aside. She tried her best to ignore the thought, but the more items she saw, the louder it became.
She came to a stop when she noticed a small butterfly sculpture sitting on a side table. She drew closer to it, frowning. It struck her as familiar, but she couldn’t remember why. Tracing her finger along the smooth marble finish, Meredith racked her brain for where she had last seen such a piece of art.
And then, she remembered. She’s spotted it once in an auction house when she was fifteen, one she’d been dragged to by her parents. She hadn’t cared to attend, but whenever she learned that Heath and his parents would also be in attendance, it didn’t strike her as averse anymore. Meredith remembered pointing at this specific sculpture, fascinated by the intricate designs carved into its wings, and had told Heath that she would love to own it one day.
She had said it to Heath alone, she remembered. And here it was.
Something moved within her. Meredith kept running her finger along the side of the butterfly wing, letting that memory wrap around her. She felt warm all of a sudden. She remembered leaning close to Heath’s ear, how she’d whispered to him as if she had an important secret to share. How he’d smiled when he’d heard it, even though it wasn’t particularly interesting.
He bought the sculpture. Or he stole it. Whichever one it was, Meredith couldn’t sit still. She felt a surge of unusual bravery and she turned away, heading back the way she came.
She didn’t know what she would do or say, but Meredith had to find him.
Chapter 8
Meredith, acting on the courage she felt through her determination to talk to Heath, asked a maid to lead her to his study. She clung to that bravery as much as she could, knowing that it was all she could use to get through a decent conversation with him. Earlier, she had managed well enough. She hoped she would be able to do so again.
She knocked on the door and noticed that her hand was trembling. She put it behind her, as if that would help her to forget her creeping nervousness.
“Enter,” came his gruff voice.
There was something about that deep order that made her heart pound. Meredith swallowed and entered the room, keeping her gaze on the hard-wood floor before her.
“Yes?”
She took a deep breath and lifted her head to face him. And then her heart stopped in her chest, making her lose all her words.
Goodness, the sight of him was so…arousing.
That was the only thing she could think, even though that realization had her reeling in shock. He was reclining in his seat, his hands clasped behind his head. His hair was mussed, his gaze steady as he took her in from head to toe. Meredith couldn’t move from the door, couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her body was growing hot all over and she couldn’t understand why.
“What is it?” he asked sharply, raising his brow. “You must have come here for a reason.”
“I…” She quickly tried wetting her tongue, taking a few steps closer to the desk. “Yes, I did. I was hoping to speak to you.”
“About what? Make it short. I have work to do.”
She looked down at his desk to see that there was an open space in front of him, occupied with only a glass of dark liquor.
He followed her gaze and gave her a small smirk. “Do you want a drink?”
“N-no, I’m fine. I…” Her legs grew weak, so she sank into the chair facing his desk. “I wanted to ask you a question.”
Heath picked up the glass and took a large gulp. “If you waste my time a second longer, you’re going to regret it.”
She almost squeaked. Her courage was slipping away by the second. “There is a small sculpture in your hallway,” she said. “Where did you get it?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Doe Eyes.”
The sudden nickname had her reeling. Too many things were happening to her at once. Coupled with his laidback pose, his messy hair, and his strong hands twirling the glass of liquor, he was far more attractive than she’d ever thought possible.
She forgot what she was going to say and it took her a few moments under his steady eyes to remember it. “The butterfly sculpture. I remember it. We saw it at an auction house once and I remembered telling you how much I liked it.”
He waited a beat, and then he tilted his head to the side. “And your question?”
She hesitated, not knowing how to say it. Heath chuckled, a dark sound that didn’t inspire much confidence in her, and rose. He wandered over to the side bar where he poured himself another drink then faced her. “You want to know if I stole the sculpture,” he said. “Or perhaps you want to know if I had been thinking about you all these years and got the sculpture in your memory, hoping that one day, you would be able to see it.”
Meredith forced herself not to lower her gaze. In truth, she had been thinking both those things.
Heath chuckled again, but she had a feeling it was at her expense. “The answer is yes to the first question. And no to the second.”
“You stole the sculpture?”
“It was quite a heist,” he said with a sly grin. “I am willing to tell you all about it, if you think you can stomach the details.”
Meredith blanched. The way he was looking at her with that roguish grin, had her body tensing in anticipation. Anticipation of what, she didn’t know.
“Do you want to hear all about it, Doe Eyes?” The name filled her stomach with butterflies. He came toward her and for the life of her, Meredith couldn’t look away. “Do you want me to tell how my men and I stole it right from the person who bought it? Or how I had drunk myself silly the very same night knowing that I could add that to the list of my accomplishments?”
He took her hand and Meredith couldn’t fight it. She wouldn’t have been able to. She was caught in his spell, barely able to breathe the closer he came. He leaned over her and put the glass in her hand.
“I think you would like some of this,” he said, his words whispering across her skin. His eyes were the deepest she’d ever seen then, so dark that they could nearly be black. “I think you will need it. I don’t think your fragile heart would be able to handle what I will say.”
“I don’t want to hear,” she whispered.
“Oh?” The sides of his lips curled into what should be a smile, but didn’t feel like one. “Have I scared you?”
“It feels as if you’re trying to.” He lifted a brow. Meredith went on, “You’ve changed since I last knew you. And I can tell that you are trying to let me see just how different you are now.”
“Am I now?”
Meredith nodded slowly. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, her heartbeat racing when she saw them dip to her lips. He was close, far too close than he should ever be. Suddenly, all her instructing as a lady were blaring in her head, things that a lady should and should not do.
She should not be staying in the same manor a gentleman.
She should not be in the same room as him without a chaperone.
And she should not be s
itting this closely to him.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he had a devilish glint in his eyes.
“How different do I think I am?” he asked softly. “Do you know that I am no longer the easygoing, ignorant child I used to be? That I’ve seen the world around us? That I require certain things I didn’t before?”
Without thinking, Meredith licked her lips, and that drew his attention. She couldn’t think. Her mind had gone blank, her body tensing as he grew nearer.
He was going to kiss her. And Meredith didn’t know what to do. She held her breath, waiting to feel his lips against her.
A knock came at the door. Neither of them moved. Heath held her gaze, seeming to take pleasure in how still she was, as he said, “What is it?”
“Mister Gale is here to see you, Your Grace.” She recognized Francis’ voice.
Heath’s smile slipped for a moment but then it came back with full force. He leaned away from her and Meredith was finally able to breathe again.
“Show him in,” he called.
The door opened and the man from last night, the one who had protested having her be brought to Heath’s manor, walked in. His eyes landed on Meredith and narrowed to slits before they lifted back to Heath. “It looks as if I walked in on something,” he commented.
Meredith thought she might combust at any moment. She refused to look up, to see what expression Mr. Gale could possibly be wearing.
“Hardly,” Heath said offhandedly. “Lady Meredith was just leaving.”
She rose on cue, still not looking up. She knew her embarrassment was clear as day but she couldn’t hide it. So, she did what she knew best. She ran toward the door, but at the very last moment, she stopped.
That sliver of bravery remaining inside her helped her to turn and look at Heath. “I wish to continue this conversation,” she told him. “Because there is more I have to say.”
She turned away at his surprise and left the room.
Chapter 9
Heath stared after Meredith for a short while before he realized that Phillip was standing there staring at him. He picked up the glass of whiskey Meredith had put aside and finished it in one go.
“What did you come all the way here for?” he asked Phillip, going to sit in one of the armchairs on the other side of the room. “I thought you hated coming to this side of London.”
Phillip came to join him. “I do,” he stated. “Which means you should be all the more grateful whenever I do it.”
“You can have all the whiskey you’d like if that’s what you’re angling for.”
Heath’s joke fell flat when Phillip didn’t so much as crack a smile. He jerked his head toward the door, his lip curling as he asked, “What were you talking about?”
Seeing no reason to lie, Heath said, “She was asking me if the items in this manor were all stolen.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That they were. What else?”
“And she’s still here?” Distrust marked Phillip’s face. “There is something odd about that woman and I don’t think you should have let her in your home. We should have just gotten rid of her.”
“She’s a lady,” Heath said idly.
“What?” Phillip seemed taken aback by the statement and then he waved Heath off dismissively. “Woman, lady, they’re all the same. Now that you’ve brought her here, she knows too much about the things you’ve done. What makes you think she won’t reveal everything when she leaves this place?”
Honestly, Heath hadn’t thought that far ahead. He had acted mainly on his emotions when he’d suggested that she stay with him, which was unusual for him. He only shrugged. “Then she’ll have to stay here forever.”
“Quit making light of this,” Phillip said sharply, his irritation contorting his features. “If you take your eye off her for one second, she will go blabbing about everything she knows. When next we look, she’ll be charging toward us with the authorities in tow. She’ll drop that innocent act in no time.”
“I doubt it’s an act,” Heath pointed out, which only served to anger Phillip even more. The other man let out a breath of frustration, throwing himself back into his chair.
Heath didn’t let it bother him. Meredith was already here. He didn’t plan on allowing her to leave any time soon, solely for the purpose of making sure she kept what she’d heard to herself. As for the end result, he would sort that out when he got to it. Phillip’s incessant complaints weren’t going to change anything.
“I’m sure you came here for a reason,” Heath said. “Get on with it already so I can kick you out of my home. I’m sure the servants are already talking about you.”
“They can talk about me all they want. That’s never bothered you before.” He narrowed his eyes and Heath could tell he was reluctant to drop the topic of Meredith. But, thankfully, he moved on. “Vic wanted me to tell you that a cart of goods will be passing through town tomorrow. We need to be ready for it.”
“Goods?”
“He didn’t tell us the details,” he said. “You know how he can be. He wants us to be surprised when we see what we’ve taken. Loves the showmanship more than anyone I’ve ever known. He wants you to be there, though.”
“Tomorrow, you say?” Heath thought of Meredith, wondering if it would be fine to leave her alone in the manor so soon. “I should be able to do that.”
“You had to think about it? What, you have too many duties to take care of here?”
“You ask that question as if it isn’t possible that I do.”
Phillip snorted, rolling his eyes. “As if you’ve ever cared to put all this over what you really love. Stealing and making chaos. That’s what you live, Heath, not caring some upright lady.”
“How nice of you to say,” Heath mumbled. “And here I thought you didn’t like her.”
“Take those words however you wish,” Phillip said. “But make sure you’re there tomorrow. Vic isn’t going to like it if you don’t show.”
Heath doubted Victor was the problem here but he smiled nonetheless. Phillip was the one good spot in his days, a friend he could absolutely be himself with. He was the only person who had an inkling of the darkness he carried within himself.
Someone like Meredith, with those doe-like eyes, would never understand. She would never truly know what it meant to live the life he’d lived, to go through the things he had. She would always look at him with judgment, never to understand the pain that had led him to that point.
“I would stay to play a game of cards with you,” Phillip said, getting to his feet, “But I’ve got things to take care of.”
“Things?” Heath probed, rising along with him.
Phillip threw him an uneven grin. “Keep wondering, Your Highness,” he said, using the nickname he would always adopt whenever he visited Heath. “Maybe when you let go of that baggage you brought upon yourself, I’ll be inclined to tell you.”
Heath only rolled his eyes. “As if you’ve ever been one to keep secrets.”
“Oh, how little you know.”
Francis materialized out of nowhere once they left the office. Phillip ignored him, walking off in the direction that led to the front entrance, throwing a hand up in farewell. Francis trailed behind him, leaving Heath alone.
Phillip hadn’t even left his sight as yet before Meredith’s words came rushing back to his mind. Without stopping to think, he began making his way to her room, wondering if she would be there. He was already grinning at the look on her face when he arrived, the way her cheeks would go red and her eyes would take over the rest of her face.
She wasn’t in her bedchamber. He came upon her in a hallway, staring up a large painting of a lady sitting in St. James Park.
Heath came up behind her. “I stole that as well,” he told her, gauging her reaction.
She didn’t jump the way he expected. But she did tense. After a moment, she spoke. “At least I cannot say that your taste is bad.”
Surprise rock
ed him. He had expected her to remain silent, or say something unnecessary like telling him how bad that was of him.
He came to stand beside her, noticing how she visibly stiffened. He rested his gaze on the painting but didn’t see it, his attention focused solely on the lady by his side. “Do you like it then? Would you like to have it for yourself?”
He looked down to see her fingers tightening on her arm. She turned to face him, wearing a slight frown. She might have appeared stern had she not been filled with such trepidation instead. “What happened, Heath? How did you turn out this way?”
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