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Selene turned him in tiny increments with a hand on his arm, a flip of her hair, all to draw him away from Clara inexpertly hidden in direct eyeline behind the blasted basket. The irony—she was usually so good at disappearing.

“I’ll have them sacked,” the marquis seethed, covering his embarrassment over a trip of the foot. Behind his back, Selene rolled her eyes at Clara.

“My lord,” she said, pouting, “you brought me here so you would not have to share me, and now you concern yourself with trivialities.”

Clara eased from behind the thick brocade.

“My feelings will be quite hurt.”

The marquis reached for her. Clara did not trust his smile. “Can’t have that, my dear.”

Clara made it to the door, the key burning in her stays, her pulse so loud in her ears she wondered they did not hear it.

In the safety of the hall, she finally took a proper breath.

And found she could not leave Selene trapped in that room with that man.

She knew the other woman could take care of herself, no doubt had tricks such as the Spinsters used with herbs and laudanum. Still. There had to be something she could do, however temporarily. A little mouse causing havoc in the larder.

She could not think of a message that would draw him out of Selene’s arms, even if she could find someone to deliver it in time. She would have to use what she had on hand.

An oil lamp, a tapestry.

Fire was always a risk. It could devour a house long before it was discovered.

It could not happen to a better man.

She put out the wick and poured the oil from the lamp on a tapestry she pulled from the wall. Then she fed it under the door and crumpled it into a corner, leaving space enough to Selene to escape, if she could not choose the shelter of the balcony. One of the candles from the fluted sconces polished daily to a shine. A tip of the hand.

The flame caught right away, racing through the fabric, dark smoke pouring off it. Clara raced to the top of the servant stairs and yelled. “Fire! Fire in the master’s chambers!”

At the sound of the pounding footsteps rushing up and the shouts for water, Clara went in the opposite direction. She popped out into the garden and crossed the lawn at a dead run, grinning like a fool.

Right into the arms of Bram.

“What did I tell you would happen if you went out there alone?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

His voice was deep and faintly ominous. She felt it everywhere. She swayed toward him like a sunflower tuned to the stars instead of the sun. Like one of his ship’s compasses, always pointing north.

“I was in the ladies’ drawing room.”

He bent closer, eyes narrowed. “Little liar—that’s not the only place you’ve been.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“You smell like fire,” he said. “And someone just threw a burning tapestry off the marquis’s balcony, mere moments after you raced across the lawn like you were being chased by dogs.”

She licked her lips. “Oh. That.”

“Yes. That.”

“It was very much worth it,” she said, pulling out her ribbon of keys. “The marquis had this one hidden in his bedroom.”

“His bedroom,” he said. “Where you lit a fire?”

“I only wanted to give Selene a chance for him to find someone else for the night.”