After searching Callie’s room for an hour, Max was ready to admit defeat.

“Are you sure she has the Bible?” he asked.

Lucy shoved her hair away from her face. It looked a little wild after the evening’s festivities and he tried not to think of how she would look if she indulged in even more wildness. He was tempted to try to convince her to misbehave.

But her attention was entirely focused on the room, and on all the trunks and hatboxes they’d searched so carefully. Luckily, Callie’s door had been unlocked — Max hadn’t had to decide whether he would show Lucy his lockpicking skills. But Callie’s maid had packed everything for her eventual move to Thorington’s house, which made their job more difficult. It was harder to dig through a deep trunk without disturbing it than it was to look through drawers and shelves.

“I’m not sure,” Lucy finally admitted. “But Grandfather knew Tiberius stole the Bible before he left England. With the war, I assumed Callie would have brought everything of value from America in case she wasn’t able to return.”

“Well, it’s not here,” Max said. “Unless there’s a hidden vault in the wall of this room?”

Lucy looked at the trunks again. “You didn’t see any jewels in her trunks, did you?”

He shook his head. “The only item of interest I saw was a flask of cognac. You Briarley women are more rebellious than I would have guessed.”

“Callie and Octavia are the rebellious ones, not me,” she said. “I’ve had my adventure already.”

Her gaze was still on the trunks. Her voice said she was only half-thinking of what she was saying. He wondered what her adventure had been — and why she would choose not to have any more, especially given that she seemed to have been born into the only family in England that encouraged its daughters to get into as much trouble as its sons.

But, as he’d reminded himself so many times already, Lucy’s past and future were of no concern to him.

“Why did you ask about jewels?” he asked, changing the subject back to something that was definitely of concern to him.

She tapped one of the trunks with her foot. “I know she brought jewels with her. She asked Claxton to store a case in the strongroom for safekeeping. Maybe the Bible is there as well?”

Max felt a little flash of heat — the same feeling he always got when a picked lock finally opened. “The strongroom?”

“We might as well look there,” she said. “Unless you’d rather go to bed? The servants say you get an early start most mornings to ride with your groom.”

She said it as though it was entirely natural to admit that her servants tracked his whereabouts. The knowledge made him uneasy — had any of them noticed how much he talked to Titus while they were riding?

But any concern over that threat was easily forgotten. She’d just invited him to Maidenstone’s strongroom.

If he weren’t so good at controlling himself, he might have done a little dance.

“It is late,” he said. “But if you think Callie and Thorington will return tomorrow, we must find the Bible tonight. I won’t let an earldom slip through my fingers because I wanted sleep.”

“So you still intend to claim the title?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance. “I wasn’t sure after your reaction to decorating the mausoleum.”

For once, her forthrightness annoyed him. Most others would have avoided their real question in favor of keeping the peace — and Lucy’s questions weren’t ones he wanted to answer.

“I know we owe each other a conversation about what happened tonight. But I thought we agreed to have it after we find the Bible?”

She gave him another sidelong glance. He almost thought she rolled her eyes. “You’d test a saint’s patience,” she muttered.

She started blowing out the candles they’d lit for their search. As smoke wafted around them, he laughed. “Are you saying you’re a saint?”

Lucy glanced up as she blew out another candle. “Briarleys aren’t saints. Even the ones who don’t have adventures.”

Something was bothering her tonight — something beyond the usual question of what his intentions were. He’d seen the look on her face when Octavia had arrived, and he’d noted her quick move to retrieve her wineglass from Claxton. He’d been watching her, off and on, throughout the night. He was glad he caught that moment, although it had taken him a few minutes to reach her through the crowd. Her relationship with Octavia was a mystery, one that had apparently hurt her.

But he cut himself off. What self-respecting thief would be thinking of Lucy’s mood when she had just offered to show him a strongroom?

So he helped her blow out the candles, keeping their banter light and easy. Then they walked silently through the darkened passages until they reached the stairs that led up to the main floor of the Tudor wing.

He stepped aside, gesturing for Lucy to precede him. The Tudor State Apartments, which she’d shown him the day before, were opulently decorated and fit for a king. That was surely their destination — but he hadn’t noticed any rooms where the dimensions suggested a hidden door.

She shook her head. “We must go down, not up.”

She led him around a corner, to a wide, dark stone stairway that descended below the ground floor. The candles they carried flickered, nearly guttering out as they walked down the shallow, well-worn steps. They emerged into a large, cavernous space, one she hadn’t shown him on their previous tour.

He held his candle aloft. There were no treasures here — instead, in the weak, flickering light, he saw several huge fireplaces. A pot still hung in the nearest one; on a nearby table, a stack of wooden trays were cracked by age and disuse. They weren’t as far below ground as he’d thought, since a row of windows lined the upper third of the two longest walls. The windows hadn’t been opened in generations. He realized now that the vines that covered the base of this wing on the outside would obscure all view of the windows and the kitchens submerged within.

Lucy walked forward, intent on her mission. Max could only shake his head and follow her. “Do you realize how ludicrously extravagant it is that your family keeps all of this?” he asked, unable to help himself. The copper and iron cookware, left to corrode in peace when the kitchens and dining rooms had been built in the Palladian wing, should have been melted down and sold long ago.

“Yes, but in this case, it was superstition, not laziness,” she said. “After the fourth earl killed all his brothers, poisonings still happened occasionally for years after — poisonings he vowed he’d had nothing to do with. When his son inherited, he built new kitchens and ordered that this kitchen be abandoned intact. He thought it might lure the ghosts to stay here rather than bringing their poisons to the Palladian wing.”

They crossed the kitchen. Max glanced behind them when they reached the other side. It was too dark to see clearly, but this room wasn’t cleaned with the same regularity as many of the other disused rooms. He thought he saw their footprints in the dust.

“Does superstition keep the maids from sweeping the floors?” he asked, already thinking of how he would cover his tracks next time.

Lucy nodded. “It shouldn’t. They clean everywhere else, whether we have guests or not. But since the only people who have a key to the strongroom are Claxton and myself, neither of us require the maids to clean the kitchens regularly. He’ll make someone sweep every few months, when he comes to clean the strongroom and discovers that the dust has grown too thick for his sensibilities.”

“Claxton cleans the strongroom?”

“He takes his duties seriously. You’ll see why in a moment.”

She ushered him into a small room in the hall beyond the kitchen. It was empty, save for an uncovered cot in the corner and closed cabinets along two of the walls. But the metal ring in the center of the floor made Max’s heart speed up.

“This was the butler’s pantry. Claxton’s ancestors used to sleep here,” Lucy said. She lifted the trapdoor soundlessly; the hinges were kept well-oiled. “Do you want to see what the Briarley earls have collected over the years?”

“More than anything,” he said, too eager, for once, to keep his tone steady.

The steps that descended into the darkness were so steep that they were almost a ladder. Lucy climbed down them easily. When he joined her, he discovered that the space was so short that his head nearly grazed the ceiling. And it was so tight that he naturally put his arm around her shoulders to conserve space — a move that felt more right than it had any right to feel.

She didn’t shrug him off. Instead, she stood still as though soaking in his warmth — as though she had no desire to move away.

She remembered their mission before he did. She lifted her candle toward the only interesting feature in the tiny room — a heavy iron door, held shut with two ornate locks.

His heart beat even faster.

She handed him her candle. “Can you light my way?” she asked. “It’s easier to do this with two hands.”

He couldn’t trust his voice. He stayed silent, lifting both their candles as she fumbled with her chatelaine. One of the keys was iron, with elaborate scrollwork that matched the looping roses and vines of the first lock. She slipped the key in, and the click as the lock came undone was the sound of fate smiling.

The second lock, though, was trickier. It was a set of seven rotating cylinders, each marked with a variety of Chinese characters. Only the right alignment of characters would unlock it. He’d come across a few Chinese locks and never managed to open them — but he’d never had an incentive quite as rich as the Briarley strongroom on the other side.

“Where did the lock come from?” he asked, looking over her shoulder as though he was interested in the lock’s provenance — not in trying to memorize the sequence of characters.

“One of my grandfather’s aunts eloped with an East India Company officer and went with him to Canton. She sent this back as a gift for her father, along with the jade figurines in your bedroom.”

She slid the seventh cylinder into place. He watched as carefully as he could, but the characters would be almost impossible to remember after only a glance.

“I’m impressed that you know the sequence by heart,” he said as she removed the lock from the door.

She surprised him by handing him the set of cylinders and taking her candle back. “It’s not so difficult, once you’ve had a chance to study it,” she said. “Stay here and look at it if you like. I want to light the candles in the room so you can witness the full effect.”

She opened the door just enough to slip around it and disappear inside. He stared down at the lock in his hands. If only he had paper and pencil so he could take a rubbing of it — the characters were too unfamiliar to commit to memory easily.

Still, by the time Lucy peeked through the crack in the door, he thought he had a good mental image of the sequence. The lock was forgotten, though, when she gave him a mischievous grin that made him think dirty thoughts.

“You’re the first person who’s not a Briarley or a Claxton to enter this room since the workmen built it,” she said. “Are you sure you’re ready? The ghosts might strike you dead, you know.”

“I’m more afraid of living Briarleys than dead ones.”

Her grin widened. “I knew you were intelligent. Close your eyes and I’ll lead you in. I want to see your face when you see the room for the first time.”

He slipped the lock into his jacket, then closed his eyes as she took his hand. Whatever had bothered her earlier seemed temporarily forgotten — instead, it felt like she was eager to show him the most sacred part of Maidenstone’s past. Eager to include him.

Eager to keep him.

His breath caught as he took a step forward. He could give her nothing other than the ability to win Maidenstone — which was, to be fair, an incredible prize. But when she looked at him with that particular smile, it was too easy to believe that she would have wanted him even if he had nothing at all.

Had anyone ever wanted Max for himself, and not for his ability to steal?

He took two more steps. He could tell the room was taller than the passage had been — they’d passed through the basement wall into a submerged space below one of Maidenstone’s many gardens. He tried to think of access and how to get back into the strongroom later — tried to distract himself from Lucy, and the too-dangerous question of why she was eager for him.

“Open your eyes,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to adjust to the increased light — and even after it adjusted, he was still dazzled.

“Good God,” he said.

He didn’t know what he had expected — shelves, perhaps, with crates and chests, sealed against the elements. This was something else entirely.

The room was square, perhaps twenty feet on each side — larger than he’d expected of a room buried underground. Crates and chests were stacked along the walls, but they were works of art in their own right — ebony, mahogany, teak, and other precious woods, secured with well-polished bands and locks. Elaborate wall sconces held large candles, casting a warm glow and illuminating the tapestries that covered sections of each wall. A pile of thick carpets banished the chill from the stone floor.

He could only dream of what was contained in the trunks. But the walls gave him a hint. A pair of crossed swords, a mace, two shields, and a battle-ax hung in positions of prominence — well-made but worn, like they’d been used for battle before they’d become decorative. They gleamed in the candlelight, kept polished and ready even though swords were no longer quite the thing for defense.

But it was, as always, the jewels that captivated him.

He walked to the shelf across from the door, under the crossed swords. The shelf was lined with white satin, and the set of jewels directly under the crossed swords winked at him.

The Briarley rubies.

He touched the main pendant of the necklace, unable to help himself.

Behind him, Lucy laughed. “I thought you might like to see them. Usually they’re covered, but I took off the cloth before you came in.”

They were even more magnificent than he could have guessed from the painting. The necklace contained twenty-two rubies, spaced in between by pearls and diamonds, set in so much gold that the metal alone was more valuable than any job he’d completed in his early days. The pendant that dropped from the chain was the largest ruby he’d ever seen in his life. The matching earrings, bracelet, and ring were equally impressive. They were jewels fit for a queen, not a mere countess. The rubies were perfect for a woman with Lucy’s coloring — but the confidence with which she carried herself would turn them into something spectacular.

“They would look beautiful on you, Lucy,” he said.

He had no idea why he said it. It was too close to the conversation he’d promised her, the same one he wanted to avoid.

Too close to a declaration. And, for himself, entirely too close to feelings he wasn’t ready or able to consider.

Maybe she felt equally unready. She laughed lightly, but there was an edge to the sound. “We’re several steps away from any future in which I might wear the Briarley rubies as the mother of the next heir. Shall we see if the Bible is here before we discuss other business?”

He turned away from the rubies, pretending that they were nothing more than a beautiful curiosity. There were other shelves beside and below that one, also lined with satin, but the cloths covering those shelves remained in place. He had no idea how many jewels were in the room — but his family could start an extravagant new life by taking everything that was out in the open, even without pilfering any of the cases.

He couldn’t take them yet, though. He still had to get through the rest of Lucy’s plan to find the Bible. “Which case is Callie’s?”

Lucy gestured to a corner where the boxes were smaller and much less impressive. “A few guests asked us to keep their valuables safe for them. It will be one of those.”

They looked through the boxes. Callie’s was immediately obvious; her initials were prominently embossed in tooled leather. But when Lucy knelt and tried the lid, it was locked.

She sat back on her heels. “What are we going to do? Steal the whole thing?”

Max took a breath. It was a horrible idea to show Lucy what he knew about opening locks. But if he and his siblings held to their plan, he would disappear the following night. He could keep her suspicions at bay until then.

If he left the Bible alone and it proved he was an imposter, Thorington and Callie might have him thrown out of Maidenstone as soon as they arrived. It would be much harder to break back in to the house if the staff was watching for him and knew that he was a liar.

So he said, carefully, “I could open it. I worked with a locksmith when I was young.”

The lie came easily. And when she looked excited instead of skeptical, he reached into his waistcoat and pulled out his lock picks.

“You really would be the perfect Lord Maidenstone,” she said as he knelt beside her and slid the first bit of metal into the lock. “They’re all made for adventure.”

That wistful, odd note was back in her voice. He told himself to ignore it. But this lock wasn’t enough distraction to keep him from wondering about her. As the latch popped open, he glanced at her.

“If you could have an adventure, what would it be?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Run away to the Caribbean and become a pirate queen. See all the wonders of the Holy Land. Sail the South Seas and come back with tattoos and a treasure chest full of pearls.”

He laughed. “Those are very adventurous adventures. Are you sure you aren’t made for having them?”

She looked up into his eyes, and he was startled by the depth of feeling in them — something dark, sad, but also fierce, as though this was a war she’d fought within herself for a long time. “I was. But I can’t think only of myself anymore.”

“Someone else could take care of Maidenstone in your absence.”

“It’s not just Maidenstone…” she started to say. But then she shook her head. “Bible first. We can talk of adventure later.”

He didn’t press her. He opened the lid. The first thing he saw was a tray of jewels. None were as impressive as the Briarley rubies — but he would happily take them anyway.

Lucy pulled the tray aside. Under it, she found a child’s doll, dressed in a faded, tattered silk dress. She held it up, more intrigued by the doll than the jewels. “I didn’t know Callie had a doll to match the ones Octavia and I had,” she said. “Why would she treat this like a treasure?”

Max didn’t care about dolls. He carefully brushed through the remaining items in the chest. It was an odd assortment. Another flask of cognac. A spyglass. A sketch of the Maidenstone clearing, signed with Tiberius’s name. A lock of blonde hair — perhaps her mother’s? And two tiny white christening gowns that saddened him, even though he had no idea of the story behind them.

Lucy sensed his hesitation. She touched the lace on one of them, smoothing it out. “Grandfather heard that Callie’s mother gave birth several times on their journeys, but none of the other children survived. I can’t believe Tiberius dragged his wife all over the world when she should have been safe in London.”

“So much for your talk of adventure,” Max said, setting the gowns aside.

“Adventures are all well and good until there are babies involved. Would you take your wife and children with you if you were forced to run away from England?”

Max shrugged. “If I thought I had to run, I wouldn’t put myself in the position of having children to worry about.”

They found the Bible at the very bottom of the trunk. He heard Lucy’s swift intake of breath as he touched the embossed cover. “Do you want to do the honors?” he asked.

She took the book from him. He guessed that her reverence had more to do with the book’s role in her family’s history than it did with any religious faith. She opened it to the record of family deaths.

The first earl’s descendants were on the first page. She ran her finger over the lists. The deaths were clustered in a span of several years, most with a special symbol beside them. “What does that mean?” he asked, pointing.

“Someone who died at the hands of another Briarley,” she said absently. “But your ancestor isn’t listed.”

She flipped to the listing of births and marriages. Again, the first earl’s children were listed together. The last entry under his name was Valerian Briarley. Beside Valerian’s name, two wives were listed — one who had died before the first earl’s death and another whose date of death wasn’t included.

Lucy gasped.

“What?” Max asked.

There were no descendants listed under Valerian and his wives. The dates of Max’s other records matched this, though. None of the changes he and Titus had made in other church records were actually material — they’d tidied things up to make the chain of descent more obvious and make sure the records were in the right churches, but every other link was valid. If Valerian had actually been a Briarley….

Lucy looked at him with stars in her eyes. “The only thing that worried me about your papers was that Valerian’s first wife had died before you claimed your ancestor had been born. If Valerian wasn’t married to your ancestor’s mother, he would have been a bastard, and your whole line would have been illegitimate. But this record proves that Valerian was legally married to her before your ancestor was born.”

Max’s heart nearly stopped.

“What?” he asked again, unable to be more eloquent.

She grinned at him. “It means you are the real Lord Maidenstone.”