He towed her against the stream of people into a much emptier gallery, then around a corner to a shadowy corridor. A door here opened to his touch, and Jamie pulled Evie into a small room darkening with gathering dusk and the rain.
“What are we doing?” Evie whispered after Jamie had silently shut the door.
“Hiding.” Jamie frowned at her. “Where are Miss Georgiou and Atherton? If you don’t mind staying alone in here, I’ll fetch them.”
Evie shook her head. “Neither came with me.”
Jamie’s eyes glittered in the dim light. “What do you mean, neither came with you?”
“Hayden was ordered by his father to work with him tonight,” Evie said, her mouth tight. “He could contrive no excuse to accompany me—not that his father would have accepted one. Sir Hector wouldn’t have let him off even if Hayden had been in the last throes of consumption.”
Evie could not suppress her irritation. She and Hayden had enjoyed speculating on Jamie’s plans, coming up with wilder and wilder guesses about what he’d wished to do. Evie had felt closer to Hayden than she’d ever had as they’d shared this secret excitement.
Then Hayden had announced this morning that his father insisted on his help this evening. Evie, distressed, had told him to write to Jamie to postpone the scheme, but Hayden had bade her to go on, fetch the alabastron, and be done with it. Evie had taken a long time to talk herself into meeting Jamie alone, but she feared this would be their best, perhaps only, chance to fetch the alabastron. She’d decided to take the risk, and make certain she kept herself at arm’s length from Jamie.
“I must be honest with you, lass.” Jamie interrupted her thoughts. “I’m not sure Atherton would be of use to us anyway. But what about Miss Georgiou? This is her battle.”
Evie shook her head. “I forbade her to come. If I am caught, or you are, it’s a mad lark by young people trying to stave off their ennui. Or, if you’ll not mind me saying, another wild scheme by one of the Mackenzies. If Iris was caught, everything would be so much worse—a diplomat’s daughter trying to steal a Greek artifact from the British Museum? That would be all over the newspapers, her father ridiculed just the same.”
“I take your point.” Jamie nodded his approval, which for some reason pleased Evie inordinately. “Ah, well, lass, we will have to muddle through on our own.”
“How? What is the wonderful plan you’ve come up with?”
“Something very simple.” He turned a convenient key in the door, locking them in. “Now, we remain quiet until the guards have cleared the museum.”
“Won’t they check this room?” Evie whispered.
“No.”
Jamie wouldn’t explain why not. But the finality of his word made Evie believe him. She wondered if he’d slipped a guard a few coins to make sure this locked door was not bothered.
Rain fell steadily outside the high window, the gray patch of sky growing darker as they waited. The small room was chilly, in spite of Evie’s coat, but Jamie’s nearby warmth kept her from shivering.
They didn’t speak further. Evie feared any word or sound would carry in the emptying museum, and Jamie folded his arms and leaned against the wall, lips pressed together.
If a guard did open the door to find them here, what would he think? Not, Aha, clever thieves have been discovered. No, he’d believe Jamie and Evie were in here for amorous purposes. He might be shocked, or he might laugh.
It was a clever hiding place in that respect. Even if Hayden had come along, the guards would only have had the titillation of finding a young lady with two suitors. Evie’s reputation would be in tatters—at least among the guards of the British Museum—but it was unlikely they would suspect an attempted a heist. Being tutted at by museum guards was better than spending a night in the nick.
In any event, no one approached the door, rattled the knob, or tried to unlock it. Either Jamie had paid the guards not to disturb them, or it did not occur to them that anyone would be daft enough to hide in this dank, dusty, cold, and cramped storage closet.
Jamie could have taken advantage of being alone with Evie, but he remained a few feet from her, the perfect gentleman. She’d heard that the Mackenzie men, including those of Jamie’s generation, had the reputation for beguiling women into their beds whenever they wished. Ladies obliged by throwing themselves at their feet, sometimes literally.
Jamie made no move to enfold Evie in his arms, press her against the wall, take her mouth in a savage kiss. No giving into the excitement of their mission to slide his hands down her body, kissing her as he had that day by the sunny river.
A good thing, Evie reminded herself. She was an engaged young lady, he a from a family with a terrible reputation. A very good thing. No need to feel disappointed that he showed no interest.
Evie tried to make herself believe this as she hunkered against the cold wall. Jamie remained perfectly still, his bulk fading as the darkness took over in the streets outside.
She’d begun to imagine they’d been in this room for hours, when Jamie whispered, “Time, lass.”
Evie suppressed a groan as she moved her stiff limbs. “You couldn’t have brought a camp chair?” she asked softly. “Or a cot?”
Jamie chuckled, a quiet sound. “Couldn’t smuggle them in under my coat. Now, silence.”
The lock made the tiniest click, and then the door opened a slit. The dim night lights in the museum seemed bright to Evie’s dark-accustomed eyes, and she closed them briefly.
“We’ll take a moment to adjust.” Jamie’s warm breath brushed her ear. “Then down the stairs.”
Evie nodded. After a long time, during which Evie tried to calm her breathing, Jamie stepped out into the corridor, nudging her to follow.
Evie lifted her skirt and went after him, immediately tripping over the door’s threshold. Jamie grasped her elbow, steadying her. He gave her no admonishment or teasing criticism, as Hayden would, only guided her through the darkness.
She experienced a moment of watery panic when the floor seemed to vanish in front of her, and then realized they’d come to the top of a staircase. Evie clung shamelessly to Jamie’s arm as he led her down the long flight, which emerged into the lower floor of the museum.
There were galleries here as well, filled with Assyrian relief sculptures. Fascinating pieces, but now they were so many black bulks in the deeper darkness.
Jamie seemed to know precisely where he was going. He towed her down the gallery, dodging pedestals and glass cases, the occasional window letting in very faint light.
He halted before a door at the end of the gallery. Unlike the door of the storage room upstairs, this one was tall, solid, and obviously meant to keep people out. The door handle was large, as was its lock. A formidable key would be needed.
Light flared, then Jamie pressed something hard into Evie’s hand. “Hold that steady.”
An electric torch, Evie marveled, studying the device. She had seen them but never used one. When Hayden had casually mentioned purchasing one at supper one night, his father had gone into a half-hour tirade about how newfangled toys were destroying Britain and the integrity of everyone in it.
The torch’s light wasn’t all that bright but it was enough to illuminate the lock. The torch was warm from the battery and its journey inside Jamie’s coat.