“Damn it, I had nothing to do with that.”
“And you have seemed very focused on getting this letter.”
“I have hired men to watch the house, remember, if that assuages your assumption that I am a man with a heart of stone. I have no desire for my aunt to be in danger.”
“Well...” Clem glanced at the wooden floorboards, then at the slightly scuffed tips of her boots.
“And I need this business solved before I leave for the London Season.”
Ah. There it was. Back to being the stony, callous Lord Rochdale with whom she was not really acquainted. Much better really. She didn’t want to see any softening in his expression when he spoke of his aunt, then she might, heaven forbid, be forced to like him.
“With any luck, I shall have this open in just a moment.”
Bending once more, she set to work at the lock. Whether it was Lord Rochdale’s proximity or a desire to show him how useful the skill he’d once maligned was, she was not certain, but the combination left her unsettled and struggling to get past the last part of the lock. She twisted to find him bent close and he straightened at the same time as she did. No wonder she’d kept catching the scent of Floris.
“Could you, um, give me a little more space?”
He obligingly took a step back.
“More.” She waved him back with a hand.
Lord Rochdale took two more steps back.
“Farther.”
With a huff, he retreated until he reached the nearby console table. Arms folded, he leaned back against the table and crossed his ankles, offering her quite the picture of nonchalance. It was an odd combination, all that strength and size against a delicate console inlaid with gilt.
“Is this far enough or shall I wait in the house across the road?”
She resisted a roll of her eyes. “You were in my light,” she lied as she turned back to the lock.
Better to tell him that than explain he smelled too delicious, or that something about having him close made her feel as though someone had lit a fire beneath her feet.
After several more failed attempts, she finally felt the last tumbler give way. Then it slipped, pushing the rod back again. “Oh da-da...” She paused. “Dandelions.”
“Dandelions?”
“Yes. Dandelions.”
“I would not have thought a Musgrave would have minded the odd curse word.”
“That is where you are wrong.” She pressed the pick back in and began again. “My mother raised me to be a lady.”
“Ladies do not pick locks.”
“She raised me to be a lady with an open mind, my lord. She did not wish me to be limited by the bounds of my sex.”
“But not to curse.”
“Cursing shows a narrow imagination.” He might have responded but it was smothered by her squeal of delight as the lock gave way. She swung open the door to expose a square box with a flourish. She peered at the empty space.
“Oh damn.”
Lord Rochdale came up behind her. “Oh damn,” he agreed.
∞∞∞
“If you were looking for cobwebs, you found them.” Clementine made a grand, sweeping gesture with a hand. “Ta-da!”