Page 92 of The Worst of Them

Killian drew the next, the end of it yellow. “Library,” he said in his thin voice. Fay smiled.

Greyson took the third, this one green. “Office.”

Jack flattened his palm and held the final match, tipped with red, toward Cecily. She plucked it from his grasp. “The governor’s wife’s room,” he said.

Maria looked at Fay, her face pinched. “Did you rig it?”

Fay took the yellow matchstick from Killian’s hand and held it to her lips. “I rather enjoy libraries.”

“You gave Jack the richest room in this house,” Maria protested.

“The lady’s room is the farthest to get to,” Jack said. “You’ll have more time to—” He cut himself off with a long-suffering sigh. “Why am I coddling you? We all agreed to rob the room we draw.”

Maria narrowed her eyes. “That was before you got the best one.”

“I didn’t rig it,” Jack said, looking at Fay.

“Fay,” Maria groaned. “You’re gonna let him win again? He always wins!”

“I do not,” Jack argued. “You always lose. Steal better shit, Maria.”

Killian interrupted, “We waste our time bickering. Best get going.” He took Fay’s hand and pulled her toward the end of the corridor. Greyson and Hester followed.

Frederick rolled his shoulders and nodded at Jack. “I wish you the worst luck, Copson.”

“Godspeed,” Jack said with a wink. With Cecily’s hand in his, they set off.

Cecily’s jaw dropped as Jack led her through the house. It was the finest home she’d ever seen—so much so that she could hardly believe it was a home at all with its wide corridors, gilded furniture, ornate vases, paintings, and colorful tapestries. She’d never seen so much wealth, even at the Stintons’ estate, though the baron’s family never had much taste for the ostentatious.

Jack turned up a flight of stairs, his steps quiet as a whisper through the darkness. They trailed through corridors, his head swiveling as they turned corners that took them deeper within the house. As promised, no guards were stationed on the way to the lady’s room. When they reached it, he pushed inside and shut the door behind them.

Moonlight spilled through the windows, but much of the room was still shrouded in darkness.

Cecily knelt to strike the match against the floorboards. It flared, illuminating Jack crouching next to her with a fresh candle in hand. The flame danced in his eyes as she lit the wick then shook out the match.

“Have a look,” he muttered, then handed her the candle.

She rose and turned to take in the room. It was as finely furnished as the rest of the house, but with a distinctly feminine touch. The walls were bright turquoise, the color of the sea, turning muted and pale beyond the halo of her candlelight. Gold-upholstered chairs and a plush sofa congregated around a tall fireplace, their fabric a perfect match to the lush, heavy curtains.

Cecily wandered farther into the lady’s quarters, gaping at the sparkling chandelier, the gold trim, and glittering knickknacks decorating the tables.

“Do you like it?” Jack asked from where he stood by the door.

She skimmed the tips of her fingers over the silk bedspread, barely touching it, then turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“It’s magnificent,” she breathed.

He followed her gaze, looking grossly unimpressed. “I think it’s small.”

Cecily didn’t have a chance to come up with a smart remark as the vanity caught her attention. She drifted across the room. Countless jewels shone from within in a velvet-lined box with a glass lid.

She had never seen so many. Pins, earrings, necklaces, bracelets in all shapes and sizes were clustered together like an obscenely gorgeous bowl of fruit. She held her breath as her fingers hovered over the case, near the glass but not touching the pristine clarity of it.

Jack’s presence warmed her back as he peered over her shoulder. “Take something,” he whispered.

She thought about it for a moment, considering what it would be like… But then she pulled her hand back and set it against her stomach. “I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” He sounded inquisitive rather than disapproving.