use to him then.
Elijah nodded. “I have one more condition. I need to search your room and Solomon’s for whatever Sacreval has hidden there.”
She frowned. “What makes you think he’s hidden anything?”
“Solomon tells me he was awfully upset about Solomon getting his room. And that he set a fire there three days ago.”
Serena swallowed. “Oh. Of course. How unforgivable of me not to have thought of it.”
Elijah looked at her sharply. “Unless you can think of another motive for Sacreval to be furious at being denied his former room? Its peculiar placement, perhaps?”
Serena looked at him in puzzlement. Then she laughed. “Me and René? Never.”
Solomon and Elijah, glancing away in opposite directions, both relaxed. Serena frowned. This was going to get complicated. And she’d better put a watch on Solomon’s room. René wasn’t going to cause a shilling’s worth more of damage to the Arms.
Solomon had thought Serena’s offer to bring in the entire network in a week was hopelessly grandiose, but when they returned to the Arms, Sophy told them that Lord Pursleigh had already stopped by to place a catering order for his wife’s masquerade Sunday night. She also told them that the marquis had gone out for the afternoon. So Solomon and Elijah searched on both sides of the wall between Serena’s bedchamber and the Stuart Room.
There weren’t any suspiciously hollow panels or any knots that opened a secret passageway when pressed. There were no loose stones in the hearth, and no safe hidden behind the portrait of Charles I. They carefully pried up a couple of floorboards, but there were only old mice droppings and dust underneath. There were no loose bricks in the chimney.
While Solomon was taking a bath after confirming that, Elijah discovered that Diana’s hand did twist halfway round in an odd fashion, but it didn’t appear to do anything and they were forced to conclude that the hand had simply had to be replaced at some time since its creation. Serena was bringing someone in next week to do the same for the scorched foot.
Elijah ran his hand over the carving. “It’s awfully Baroque. I wonder they don’t just take it out and put in something modern and nonflammable.”
“Charles the First’s own clockmaker made it. This is the Stuart Room. Have some respect.”
Elijah laughed. “You mean whoever pried these out was just a patriotic Roundhead, and not an enterprising chambermaid?” He ran his thumb over the holes where rubies had gone missing.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Solomon said.
Elijah slumped against the wall. “There’s got to be something here! But where the devil is it?”
“Don’t worry, Li. There’ll be plenty of time to find it later.”
“We don’t know that,” Elijah said grimly. “Things in Belgium are moving quickly. What if there’s evidence in here that one of Bonaparte’s generals is ripe for treason? We need to know now.”
“Any information hidden here is a year old at least.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Elijah sighed. “If I’m their best hope, then things don’t look good for British intelligence. I just haven’t been thinking clearly.”
She came down the stairs, and even though Solomon had designed the dress himself, seeing her in it took his breath away. Its midnight blue folds took on a silver sheen when they caught the light (he’d worked through the night on that dye), and a wave of silver spangles rose from the hemline and crested halfway up her calves. More spangles edged a modest, square neckline and short unpuffed sleeves.
Serena had taken her hair out of its severe bun and made a complex coil at the crown of her head. She’d allowed a few tresses to escape—she’d even curled them, and scattered spangles and tiny blue silk flowers here and there in the blackness. She held long white kid gloves in one hand. Solomon felt suddenly unsure of himself.
“Well?” she said. “Behold your handiwork. Are you satisfied?”
He smiled ruefully. “You look like someone who wouldn’t associate with me. I feel as if I ought to kiss your hand.”
“Well, if you feel you must, don’t let me stop you.” She held out her hand.
He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Slowly, he reached out his own gloved hand to grasp her bare one. She didn’t pull away. His eyes closed involuntarily as his lips brushed her naked skin. The insides of his eyelids were awash with visions of kissing her arm, her shoulder, her breasts—
He dropped her hand abruptly and stepped back. “Sorry, I’ve never been good at doing the