Read Online A Secret Love by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page A

against the bookshelves and considered.
    He waited until she’d methodically searched the contents of the now open box and restacked the papers. Then he reached out and pushed the door.
    It squeaked.
    She gasped. Papers scattered. In a furious flurry she flicked down her veil and whirled, so quickly that, despite watching closely, he failed to catch even a glimpse of her face. One hand at her breast, the other clutching the edge of the desk against which she’d backed, the countess stared at him, as deeply incognito as she’d been in Hanover Square.
    â€œ Oh! ” Her voice wavered as if uncertain of its register, then, with an obvious effort, she caught her breath and said in the same low tone he recalled, “It’s you.”
    He bowed. “As you see.”
    She continued to stare at him. “You . . . gave me quite a start.”
    â€œI would apologize, but”—he pushed away from the bookshelves and advanced upon her—“I hadn’t expected to find you here.” Halting before her, he studied the glint of eyes behind her veil, and wished the veil were thinner. “I thought I was supposed to locate Messrs. Thurlow and Brown. How did you know they were here?”
    She was breathing rapidly, her gaze locked on his face, then she looked away. With a sliding step, she slipped out of the trap between him and the desk, smoothly turning so she faced the desk again. “I chanced upon them.” Her voice was very low; it strengthened as, collecting the scattered papers, she went on, “I had to visit our family solicitor in Chancery Lane and on impulse I strolled into the Inn. I saw the plaques, so I wandered about—and found them.”
    â€œYou should have left it to me. Sent a note and stayed safely at home while I did this.” Why he was so annoyed, he couldn’t have said. She was, after all, a free agent—except that she’d asked for his help.
    She shrugged. “I thought, as I’d found them, I’d see what I could discover. The sooner we locate the company, the better. All we need is their address.”
    Gabriel inwardly frowned. Had his kissing her made her regret approaching him? If so, too late—she had. Her breathless skittishness reached him clearly, but he knew women too well to confuse resistance with rejection. If she wasn’t seriously tempted, she wouldn’t be skittish. “How did you get in? The door was unlocked . . .” Only then did he notice that the boxes she’d been searching were pad-locked. Only one was presently open, but . . . “You can pick locks.”
    She shifted. “Well—yes.” She gestured briefly. “It’s a small talent I have.”
    He wondered what other talents she was concealing. “As it happens, it’s a talent I share.” He reached for one of the boxes she’d yet to search. Each was labeled but only with a surname. The one he held was labeled “Mitcham.” He looked at the small lock.
    â€œHere.”
    He glanced up. One delicate hand, gloved in the finest Cordovan leather, offered a hairpin.
    â€œIt’s just the right size.”
    His hand surrounded hers as he plucked it from her fingers. He had the box open in a trice; setting back the lid, he picked up the mass of papers within. “Have you stumbled on any details yet—names or other references to the company?”
    â€œNo. Nothing. There’s no box here or in the other room with the company’s name on it, but there must be a box for them, surely? If they’re a client, they would have a box, don’t you think?”
    â€œSo one would imagine.” Gabriel glanced around the room. It confirmed his impression of the firm’s incumbents. “Messrs. Thurlow and Brown appear staunchly conservative—if the company’s a client, they’ll have a box.”
    Side by side, they searched swiftly but thoroughly. An hour ticked