“I cannot make sense of it, Mr. Lake,” she said. “Why were those men hired, if not to steal the diamond? Why waste hundreds of pounds on acrobats, just to have them shoot up Mr. Hope’s ceiling?” Her thoughts throbbed in her head, racing and tangling and tripping over one another to form a rather impossible knot. Somewhere in the back of her mind she sensed her exhaustion, the ache of her knees, and the roil of her belly as the last of Lord Harclay’s champagne worked its way through her body. Damn the man to hell, she had better things to think of than his kiss, the vision of him in buckskins and billowing sleeves before the fire. But despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand—finding the French Blue’s thief—time and time again her thoughts returned to the Earl of Harclay, especially as the afternoon wore on and her patience wore thin. “Did the acrobats mention anything else? Anything at all?”
What do You think about The Gentleman Jewel Thief?
