Free Shirley Kerr by Confessions of a Viscount Page B

“May I suggest a compromise? Tonight I will watch her, observe her schedule and that of her servants. Perhaps she will even take the item from its hiding place in order to gloat. Once we know her household’s schedule, we’ll be able to determine the safest time to search her lodgings.”
    He watched the warring emotions flit across Miss Parnell’s delightful face, the urge to act now , versus the logical approach he’d presented.
    She nibbled on her bottom lip and glanced out at the street. “Very well, then.”
    Good girl. Logic was always the best approach. Alistair nodded. “I’ll see what can be seen tonight, and we’ll discuss it tomorrow afternoon on another drive. I think we’ll skip Hyde Park, however.”
    She gave him a small smile.
    Just as they turned to go up the steps, a horse clattered up and the rider jumped down. Steven swept off his hat and the two men exchanged greetings before Steven turned his attention to his sister. “Have a good outing, poppet?”
    “Delightful, thank you.” She glanced between Alistair and her brother and back, a silent message in her bright blue eyes.
    Right. No need to hang around and give Steven the chance to ask awkward questions, like plans about his sister’s future.
    Alistair bowed. “Until tomorrow, Miss Parnell. Good day, Blakeney.”
    “Tomorrow, my lord.” She gave him a slight wave, and took her brother’s arm to lead him indoors.
     
    Alistair folded his legs and leaned his back against one of the chimney stacks of Eccleston’s town house, blowing on his chilled fingers. He should have worn an extra shirt—there was more of a nip in the air at night this late in September.
    He’d made his requisite appearance at the rout downstairs and participated in at least two dances, with very respectable, very married matrons.
    Now that he was engaged, social events seemed far less crowded, with fewer women making demands on his time. It had been at least three days since anyone tried to trap him into a compromising situation. He hadn’t realized how much the attempts had dimmed his enjoyment of social outings until he found himself actually joining in the laughter while dancing the energetic Roger De Coverly with Lady Eccleston. The only thing that would’ve made it more enjoyable would be dancing with Charlotte.
    Even so, he had a purpose in attending tonight that had nothing to do with dancing, and he was eager to get to it. He’d paused downstairs long enough to prevent his father from upending the punch bowl over his grandfather’s head—an attempt to interrupt the duke’s soliloquy on morals—and forestalled further conflict by pointing out awidow making cow eyes at Father, which made Grandfather stalk off in a huff, before Alistair decamped to the roof. Lord Eccleston had personally escorted him through the attic and out the tiny door.
    Now he sat, telescope at the ready, open journal on his knee, pencil in hand, his gaze focused slightly lower than the starlit heavens above.
    The balcony curtains were still open in Melisande’s room, and at least one candle lit. A maid had come in to turn down the blankets and add fuel to the fire, and left just a few moments ago. Perhaps he’d be in luck and Melisande would call it an early night, reveal whatever she had to reveal about the trinket Miss Parnell was so interested in, and he could get back to his observations. Much as he was enjoying the diversion with Miss Parnell, there would only be a few more nights of observing before the moon would rise too early and cast too much light.
    He could always do as Dorian did, and get up in the predawn to search the skies after the moon had set. Alistair snorted. The only dawns he’d seen were those for which he’d not yet gone to bed.
    To his left, the roof door opened, spilling a wedge of light onto the tiles. He rose up to a crouch. The door quickly closed again, and whoever had stepped outside stood there, motionless in the dark.
    Lord Eccleston knew