Page 59 of Immortal Rose

I spun right with a gasp as a shadow burst forward from behind the leather sofa. Before I could so much as step back, Foxcourt’s arm locked over my chest, spinning us both toward the door.

But there was no explosion. No gunshot. Not even the whisper of an unsheathed blade. I strained, twisting around in Foxcourt’s unyielding grasp. The dark figure tore out of the room, lurching through the open window.

“Stop!” I shouted, but the figure, their lower face covered by a mask, had vanished into the bright wash of sunlight.

Chapter Thirteen

“Foxcourt,” I gasped out, pushing back against the immense weight curled around me. “Foxcourt—he’s gone.”

His breathing stirred the loose curls near my ears, and, for a moment, I was caught by the sensation. Shaking myself, I drove my elbow back into his gut, earning a grunt.

Bloody enormous man. I’d barely jostled him.

It took several moments of silence before Foxcourt finally relented and released me.

Air flooded back into my lungs, cooling the heat in my cheeks. He stood and crossed the room in three long strides, leaning out the window. It seemed God had a sense of humor, or at least poor timing; a policeman chose that moment to stroll by, whistling as he went about his patrol.

Foxcourt flung the window shut in disgust. “Did you get a look at the thief?”

“Not a good one. They were wearing a mask,” I said. “Average height and build, I’d say. No scent.”

That made three people I couldn’t detect a scent from—it was utterly provoking.

Foxcourt looked thoughtful as he tossed his walking stick onto one of the leather chairs, surveying the chaos around us. Hundreds of books had been tossed carelessly to the ground, many resting on warped pages. Entire shelves had been cleared, as if the thief had been looking for something.

Or one book in particular.

“It’ll be nearly impossible to tell if they took anything,” Foxcourt said, crouching to pick up a volume. He turned it over in his hands, his brow furrowed in thought.

“They left empty-handed,” I said. I was all but sure of it.

I made my way to where the thief had been hiding, drawn by a tantalizing ribbon of scents. Flowers, herbs, and resins . . . it could only be one thing.

A small cabinet built into the bookshelf was ajar, a brass key tucked into its lock. Inside, Rosebourne had assembled dozens of small brown apothecary bottles in tidy rows, like regimental soldiers. All were unlabeled—and why wouldn’t they be? He could have distinguished each with a simple breath, as I could.

“Lockwood?”

I glanced back, realizing belatedly Foxcourt had said something to me. Seeing he had my attention, he repeated his question.

“You’re certain?”

“As far as I could see and smell, yes,” I said, turning my attention back to the bottles. Nothing seemed to be missing. “But given the focus of their search . . .”

“They were after the only book in a rival perfumer’s study worth finding,” he finished, tossing the book back into the pile.

Reaching into the depths of the cabinet, toward the heavier scents, I plucked a reeking bottle of civet musk from its line, marveling at the amount that swirled around inside the glass. When it came time to set it back down, I hesitated, my fingers curling tighter around the bottle’s neck . . . because, really, what use did Rosebourne have for it now?

I turned a greedy eye back onto the oils again, assembling a small collection of them at the shelf’s edge. Jasmine grandiflorum, tuberose absolute, orris root, and ambergris . . . God, the cost of the ambergris alone would be in the hundreds of gold marks. Almost faint with giddiness, my mind calculated the sum of the bottles as I retrieved the satchel I’d dropped and began carefully placing them inside it.

“I believe that is considered stealing in most civilized countries,” Foxcourt said dryly. “The state of the study will be hard enough to explain without them noticing they’ve been robbed.”

“They are being requisitioned in the name of His Majesty the King,” I said tartly.

He snorted, amused. “Then by all means, proceed.”

Remembering the scent of Immortal Rose that had lingered in the flacon, I took the centifolia rose oil for good measure, hastily rearranging the bottles to fill the gaps.

“If you’re quite finished with your larceny, I’d like to retrieve what we actually came for.”