Chapter Twenty-Four

Truth be told, I was rather excited at the prospect of infiltrating the party in evening dress. It had been a while since I had been to a glamorous event. In fact, the last time I'd been to a party had been in Major Ramsey's company. I had been to a nightclub or two with Felix since then, but nothing high society like this.

It had also been a while since I'd been involved in a good, old-fashioned robbery.

A combination of the two might be almost too much fun.

Not that I was inclined to be flippant about any of it. I was under no illusions about how dangerous this job would be. I knew we were taking risks breaking into Nico Lazaro's safe. Especially during a party. It was possible his guard would be down at the event, but it was also possible there would be even more precautions on his part.

There was a flutter of nervousness in my stomach as I considered this, but I was honest enough to admit that that flutter was also tinged with excitement. I couldn't deny to myself that I enjoyed this type of work.

There was, in the back of my mind, the worry that, when it was time to do the job, I would be scared after what had happened in Sunderland. It had occurred to me that there might be lasting repercussions from what we had endured in that cave, from the close call that we had had. But I didn't feel as though it was going to hinder me in my work. I felt clearheaded and focused. I felt ready to do what needed to be done.

We got into the car, and Dupéré slid close on the seat. "We are going to have fun this evening, yes?"

"Yes, I think so. Perhaps you'd better give me the map now so that I can keep it on me in case I find a good moment to slip away."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded piece of thick paper. I took it from him and, for lack of some better place to put it, shoved it into the bodice of my gown.

"Ah, it has come to this," he said, following the progress of the map. "That I should come to envy paper."

He really was frightfully bold, but I decided that I might as well enjoy it. It wasn't as though Aristide Dupéré was serious about pursuing me. Nor was I interested in him. He was handsome, charming, and amusing, but I did not have the patience for his type of man.

Even if there wasn't the matter of Felix. Even if there wasn't the matter of Major Ramsey. I didn't judge the girls who found comfort in this sort of easy charm, but I knew myself and knew that it would not make me happy. His bonhomie, if that was the right word for it, was just the sort of thing designed to irritate me with any sort of prolonged exposure.

The problem with men like Aristide is that, even though it's perfectly clear that they don't mean any of the outlandish things they say, there is still something flattering about the effort they put into their charm and blarney.

There was a bit of that sort of an attitude in Felix—not that I believed for a moment he was insincere with me. But I had seen that side of him often enough, the way he had dazzled the neighborhood girls when we were younger. The way women still smiled encouragingly at him now.

"Perhaps we will be friends even after this," Dupéré suggested. "You are, I think, the kind of woman I could fall in love with."

I laughed. "I am not going to fall in love with you," I told him firmly. "And, while we are being honest: I am most definitely not going to fall into bed with you."

He gave me what I supposed was meant to be a shocked expression. "I can assure you, my intentions are most honorable."

"Yes, well, honorable or not, you're wasting your time."

He looked at me for a moment, and then he grinned. "It is not very often that I am unsuccessful."

"No," I agreed. "I don't doubt it. Which is precisely why you've developed this bad habit."

He laughed outright then. "Do you care nothing for my pride, Ellie?"

"I think your pride is healthy enough to survive me."

There was something quite enjoyable about arriving at the party on the arm of Aristide Dupéré. He instantly drew notice, of course. Not just because he was handsome but because he carried himself in the manner of a man who knew he was.

Usually, I found these sorts of men tedious, but, for some reason I had not yet put my finger on, I liked Aristide very much. Not that he wasn't occasionally tedious.

But I thought that, if one knew the right way to handle him, he was essentially harmless and quite amusing.

We entered the apartment without comment from the butler, Cheevers, who let us in. He looked about as miserable as it was possible for a person to be, and I commiserated with him.

Music was playing loudly, and I could hear the underlying sound of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses.

I gave a friendly nod to the naked lady statue as I passed, and then Aristide and I went into the main rooms of the flat.

"All eyes are on you, the most beautiful woman in the room," he murmured into my ear as we entered. I knew perfectly well that he was lying—no one was paying us any particular notice—but sometimes a girl likes to hear nice things about herself.

I felt glamorous in the black satin dress, as though I belonged at fancy parties like this. Not that I had any desire to be a part of this world, but it was always nice when a disguise did what it was designed to do.

I spotted Nico Lazaro at once. He was the center of attention, a group of women around him laughing as he told them some story, waving his arms expressively. He looked handsome and elegant in a black velvet dinner jacket, his dark hair slicked, but there was that unmistakable aura of lechery about him that kept him from being appealing.

A moment later, he glanced in our direction and, excusing himself from the group, made his way toward us.

"Miss Donaldson," he said as he reached us. "I'm delighted to see you. I didn't think you'd come." He leaned to brush a kiss across my cheek, and I caught the aroma of strong aftershave and several strong drinks.

"And Dupéré. I didn't know you were acquainted with Miss Donaldson."

"We are… old friends," Aristide said, inflecting a clear insinuation into the words. I was certain a part of his assignment from Major Ramsey had been to keep Mr. Lazaro at bay, but I wasn't certain this was the best way to go about it. I saw the unmistakable flash of excitement in Nico Lazaro's eyes. He was taking it as a challenge.

I repressed a heavy sigh. Men could be so very tiresome.

"Can I get you a drink, Elizabeth?" Mr. Lazaro asked.

"Not just now, thank you. I think I'll wander around and look at some of your art."

He smiled. "By all means. Please let me know if you'd like me to tell you about any of it. I would be happy to give you a tour."

Aristide's hand landed on the small of my back in a slightly possessive gesture.

Nico Lazaro flashed his teeth at us, and then he turned to greet a pair of new arrivals.

"I do not like the way he looks at you," Aristide said in my ear.

"It's exactly the same way you look at me," I pointed out.

He made one of those deeply affronted faces. "You wound me, Ellie."

"We don't have time for you to be wounded," I said. "Mingle with the guests and try to be a distraction so I can slip away."

I walked away from him and farther into the room, the air heavy with the smell of cigarette smoke and too many perfumes. It would be easy enough to lose myself in this crowd. There were a great many people here, apparently unconcerned with the possibility of a German air raid. So far, we had been lucky this evening, but I wondered where all these people would go should the sirens start.

That was a worry for another time, however. At the moment, I needed to disappear into the crowd, make myself inconspicuous enough and engage with enough of the guests that I could finally slip away without drawing attention to myself.

Aristide, of course, soon made himself the life of the party; he had as many women surrounding him as Nico Lazaro. I realized that the major had made a good choice in sending him along with me. He naturally drew attention to himself, and, as a result, he would draw attention away from me.

After perhaps half an hour, and a few sips from a much-too-strong drink that had been foisted upon me, I set my glass down and moved unobtrusively toward the corridor that led to his office. With a casual look over my shoulder, I slipped down the hallway.

It was unlit, a clear indication that this part of the house was not meant for his guests. If I was caught, I would say I was looking for the powder room. But it didn't seem that anyone had observed my exit from the main rooms of the house.

I made my way quickly down the corridor, the satin of my dress rustling softly against my legs.

As I approached the office, where I had previously seen the unopened crate of artifacts he kept there, I heard voices. There were two men talking in a room not far from me.

I moved silently forward, listening. If I had the lay of the land correctly, the voices were coming from inside Nico Lazaro's office. I hadn't noticed if he was still in the room when I had slipped away, and now it seemed that he had stepped out of his party to conduct a bit of business.

I would have to come back when the office was unoccupied.

I was about to turn around and go back to the party when a statement caught my ear.

"We have the buyer ready?" It was Nico Lazaro. He could, of course, be talking about a buyer for any number of things. He dealt in art, after all. But he seemed more interested in buying art than selling it. What he might be interested in selling, however, was the map he had acquired.

I took a step closer so I could better hear.

"Yes, we have the buyer lined up," the other voice said. "He'll meet you at the club in the morning. There are rumors that those Germans are still looking for it, so the sooner it's off your hands the better."

They were definitely talking about the map, then.

"It's safe," Lazaro said. "I put it in my safe at the club. Few people will think to look there."

The club? I tried to figure out where he must mean, and then I realized suddenly that it was the nightclub in which he owned a partial stake. In all likelihood, the thieves would never have thought to look there.

Well, this certainly put a crimp in things. We were going to have to rethink our entire plan now, and we didn't have much time to do it.

I realized then that there had been silence inside the room for a moment too long. Were they aware of my presence?

As quickly and quietly as I could, I turned back toward the sound of the party, toward the laughter and lights and sloshing liquor.

"Elizabeth, wait a moment."

I stopped at the sound of Nico Lazaro's voice. He had seen me. Well, I would just have to play it off.

I turned as the man he had been talking to moved past me with a brief nod and disappeared back into the crowded party.

I was alone with Mr. Lazaro.

"I was looking for the powder room," I said. "I remembered where it was from the last time I was here."

"Don't rush back to the party," he said, his voice low and warm. "Come and talk to me for a bit. In my office. We'll have more privacy there."

My instincts told me this was not a good idea, but I could think of no good excuse. I didn't want to put him on his guard. Besides, he had already come to me and slipped a hand around my back, shepherding me in the direction of his office.

"Well, I'm sure Aristide will be looking for me before long," I said. "But I suppose he can wait for a few minutes."

He smiled down at me. "Aristide Dupéré can wait for you all night as far as I'm concerned."

I laughed as he guided me to his office door. I glanced over my shoulder down the hall. There was no one in sight. And, whatever I might have said to Mr. Lazaro, I doubted very much Aristide would be looking for me. After all, he expected me to be working on the safe.

"If I'm honest, I was a bit surprised to see you with the likes of Dupéré," he said. "Do you know him well?"

"Not, I think, as well as he would like."

"I'm glad to hear it, my dear. He's not the kind of company you should be keeping."

Mr. Lazaro led me into his office, where I stepped away from him and his warm hand on the bare skin of my back. He shut the door behind us. The sound from beyond immediately silenced. It didn't escape my attention that he had not closed the door with his associate but had done so with me.

It was a large enough room, but it was so crammed with objects that it seemed much smaller. There were more boxes and crates stacked up here than the last time I had been in this room. Apparently, he'd been able to collect more art from displaced persons.

There was a lamp on one corner of the desk, and he moved to it, pulling the chain to turn it on. Then he beckoned me closer. "Come and see this piece."

I moved to the desk and looked down at the piece on the corner of it. There was a very nice miniature there, clearly an expensive piece, though I didn't recognize the artist.

"It's lovely," I said politely. "Who painted it?"

"Nicholas Hilliard. It's late fourteenth century. He was a goldsmith as well as an artist. Did many paintings of the Elizabethan court."

I looked down at the miniature. "Her face is striking."

"A beauty with an eye for art. You impress me, Elizabeth." His hand landed on my back again, his warm fingers brushing the bare skin.

I hadn't expected him to be this fast of a worker. The major had warned me, of course, so I shouldn't be surprised. But I'd never had a man try to undress me after giving me a one-minute art lesson.

"Thank you for showing it to me," I said, turning and causing his hand to fall away. "Now I suppose I'd better be getting back to the party."

But he had moved to put himself in my path. I was now between him and the desk.

"Don't play hard to get now, Elizabeth," he said. "We'll have a lovely time, you and I."

"Really, Mr. Lazaro, I didn't come here for this."

"No? You seemed interested enough when you were here with Ramsey."

I felt my anger growing along with my alarm, but I pushed both down and tried to remain calm. "I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression, but I'm not looking for romance."

He stepped closer, close enough that we were nearly touching. "Sometimes romance finds us when we aren't expecting it."

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Lazaro…" I made a move to step around him, and his expression grew darker and lost the pretense of pleasantness. With a suddenness that caught me off guard, he grabbed my upper arms and pushed me backward. I hit the edge of the desk hard and then he was leaning over me, his arms braced on either side.

"Don't toy with me, darling," he said. "You'll find it won't work in your favor."

And then he tried to kiss me. I turned my face away, and his mouth hit my neck, which seemed to suit him just fine, as he began pressing hard kisses into it. I struggled against him, but his grip on my arms tightened painfully and his body pressed hard against mine.

He was a good deal bigger than me, but he had failed to take one thing into account.

There was a very sharp letter opener sitting within reach on his desk.

"Let me go," I said, giving him one last opportunity.

"Stop struggling," he murmured, his breath hot on my skin. "You may as well admit you like it, and…"

He stopped mid-sentence as I pushed the edge of the letter knife into the flesh above the general vicinity of his kidney just hard enough to make him realize I was serious.

"Back up, Mr. Lazaro," I said.

He stilled, swore.

I pressed the letter opener a bit harder. Naturally, I hadn't had time to test the point, so I wasn't sure how sharp it was. For his sake, he'd better hope that it had been dulled by opening letters. Even dull, I could get it into his guts if I needed to.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd back up a bit," I said again. My tone was still pleasant, but I knew there was no way he could miss the hard undertone or the look in my eyes. I wasn't playing games with him, and he knew it.

He lifted his hands and eased back slightly. "All right, all right. There's no need for all of this."

I eased myself up from the edge of the desk, pressing the letter opener a bit harder as I moved forward. "Yes, well, you didn't seem to understand me before. I thought perhaps this might improve your hearing."

He offered me a smile, trying to ease the situation. But his eyes were blazing with fury. He was used to having his way, it seemed.

I started to move around him, the letter knife still held up, and he made a sudden lunge, grabbing my wrist. So, with my left hand, I hit him in the nose as hard as I could. I wasn't naturally left-handed, but I'd been in enough scrapes with the boys over the years to know how to use both my fists.

There was a disturbing crunch and immediately blood began pouring from his nose.

He called me a name that was mostly unintelligible due to the fact he was clutching his face in his hands, but I caught the gist of it.

"As lovely as the evening has been, Mr. Lazaro, I think I'll take my leave."

I turned and left him dripping blood on his Persian carpet.