The Devil's Thief (13 page)

The
threat couldn’t have been plainer had he just baldly stated it like Blackman
had. “The Thames is deep and memory short,” she murmured as she took Alasdair’s
outstretched arm. His gaze narrowed on her, sharp with warning.

“If
you are comfortable with that, Julianna,” her father said firmly, “then we
shall leave you to Mr. Sharp’s attentions.”

Julianna
gave her father a careless, bored smile. “Of course, Father. I’m sure we shall
find more to discuss about Mr. Sharp’s pearl.”

*
         
*
         
*

 
“Where is it?” Alasdair demanded under
his breath as soon as they moved deeper into the crowded room.

“I
believe the refreshment table is over there,” she replied sarcastically,
pointing to the other side of the room.

Alasdair
ground his teeth together. She’d been right under his nose all along. How many
times had he seen her across the road? Had they spoken before? Surely they had.
He had certainly spoken with her father before, he knew that much.
His neighbor, his very own neighbor, the thief.
It was
unconscionable. And he’d very nearly let her get away again, not believing for
one moment that this unremarkable young woman could be his Juliet. Tonight she
was a drab little mouse in her plain, pale blue gown, her glorious hair yanked
back into a knot so tight it was giving him a headache just looking at it. What
game was she playing? Were Mr. Harte and Lady Linville involved, or did they
honestly believe this was who she was? He almost laughed at the absurdity of
it.

“I
want it returned immediately.” Let her play innocent. They both knew better.

“I
was unaware anyone had moved the refreshment table.” She was so cool and clever
he wanted to shake her until she confessed.

A
lady walked by and gave him a suspicious look. Alasdair hurried Miss Harte
along. “We cannot discuss this here.”

“I
do not think anyone would find a discussion of lemonade offensive,” she replied
sweetly.

He
stopped and she followed suit, turning to face him. Brown. Her eyes were brown,
a rich, dark brown like the pelt of a beaver. “You think yourself very clever,
Miss Harte,” he said, not bothering to lower his voice. “But I daresay you are
unprepared for the reactions of the other guests were we to begin discussing
something besides lemonade.”

She
took a deep breath, not quite a shocked gasp.
No, nothing as revealing
as that from his little thief.
She turned and began moving through the
crowd again, and he had no choice but to follow her.

“Have
you been here before?” she asked conversationally. “I’ve heard tales of Sir
Hilary’s library. Is it as extraordinary as they say?”

So,
she
was
willing to talk privately.
“Yes, quite extraordinary. It is a room ideally suited to uncovering truths and
learning the secrets of history.”

“History?”
She sounded greatly amused. “I have no such pretensions, sir. I neither make
history nor change it so its secrets are meaningless to me. I simply learn from
it and act accordingly.”

Was
the chit actually lecturing him? Did she honestly believe he would simply
categorize their encounter as a lesson learned and walk away? Was she mad?
She’d stolen his pearl, dammit, and she damn well better give it back.

“There
are some rather nice paintings down that corridor,” he said quietly, his voice
tight. He indicated the open door and the passage beyond that led to the
library. “If you would care to view them while I fetch your lemonade, I will
find you.”

“Excellent,”
she agreed. “I do enjoy a good painting. Perhaps we should arrange to meet by
the . . . third door on the left?”

“Perhaps
the second door on the right would be better,” he answered wryly, grudgingly
amused by her tactics. It was clear from her awkward response that she had not
arranged many assignations. His ill humor returned. Her virginity, her
guilelessness, all was explained by her identity. Surely he could wrest his
pearl back from this naive young girl.

“Of
course,” she replied. “I’m sure that you shall have no trouble finding me.
There will be no need to raise the alarm.”

“If
I were to have trouble finding you again, Miss Harte, then you would be the one
alarmed,” he vowed. Her mocking smile was her only reply as she trailed out the
door.

Chapter Nine

“Get
in here.” Alasdair spoke angrily as he opened the library door and waited
impatiently for her.

Julianna
had been biding her time waiting for him in the hall, staring blindly at one of
the paintings while her mind raced with the various possible outcomes of this
meeting, each more disastrous than the last. When he’d stopped behind her and
reached his arm around to hand her a glass of lemonade, she’d nearly shrieked
in surprise. And then she’d noticed that the painting depicted sheep being led
into the barn for shearing. How fitting. She’d grabbed the lemonade so quickly
it had sloshed onto her dress.

Her
legs were shaking as she walked past him through the open door, but he’d never
know how nervous she was if she had her way. She glared at him as she entered
the room and he closed the door behind her with an ominous
thud
.

“What
the bloody hell have you done with my pearl?” he growled. He apparently no
longer felt the need to contain his anger now that they were alone.

“Your
pearl?” she asked idly as she wandered over to a bookshelf and pretended to
peruse the titles. Lamps had been left burning here, awaiting guests, she
supposed. “I believe you misspoke, Mr. Sharp. It is
my
pearl.”

“It
bloody well isn’t!” he exploded. “You know damn well that I never meant for one
second to give it to you, virgin or not.”

Well,
she had suspected, but to have him state it so baldly made her unaccountably
angry. “That is your misfortune, Mr. Sharp, and not mine.” Her words were
clipped and she felt her guilt draining away. “We made a deal, you and I, and I
lived up to my side of it. I had no idea that you were going to be dishonorable
enough to take my virginity and then fail to deliver on your promises.”

“I
never claimed to be a saint,” he said brusquely.

“A
devil by any other name . .
. ,
” she sneered.

“Will
smell as sweet?” He seemed amused, and it infuriated her more.

“Will
lie as smoothly,” she bit out.

“Speaking
of lies,” he said sternly, crossing his arms, “what about this rent that you
supposedly have to pay? I’m very well aware of your family’s situation, Miss
Harte. You do not need the pearl. Was it a lark of some kind? A thrilling
adventure of some sort?”

 
“My family’s situation has nothing to do
with this. And, quite frankly, does not change the nature of our agreement, nor
does it make me responsible for your carelessness and lack of integrity.”

She
watched his face first drain of color and then flush with anger.

“Well,
old man, she’s got you there.” A figure rose from a chair in the corner of the
room, where he’d been concealed by shadows. He held a glass negligently in his
hand and took a lazy sip as he regarded Julianna.

Her
face flamed with embarrassment and shame. Damn Alasdair, she silently fumed.
Her present predicament was his fault.

The
man wandered closer as he raised his glass in salute. “Juliet, I presume?”

Julianna’s
face flushed hotter. He’d told him about that?
About their
night together?

Suddenly
the stranger smiled, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks. Julianna idly realized
that if the circumstances had been different, she might have found him quite
attractive. “I can see the appeal, Sharp,” he said drily. “Now I understand why
we’ve spent the last two days searching for your little thief.” He cocked his
head to the side. “But she doesn’t look at all like you described her. Are you
sure she’s got all that hair back there?” He stepped closer to her and she saw
Alasdair stiffen.

The
strange man raised his hand and hesitated a moment before he gently ran it
along the side of her head, smoothing her hair back. Julianna gasped and jerked
away.

“Roger,”
Alasdair growled.

“Ah,”
the man said quietly, “so you
are
going to introduce us.”

Julianna
realized he was drunk. He hid it relatively well.

“Miss
Harte, may I present Mr. Roger Templeton?” Alasdair said tonelessly.

“How
do you do?” Mr. Templeton murmured as he picked up her hand and kissed it. It
was all so very strange.

She
tried to tug her hand free, but Mr. Templeton did not release it. “He is
treating you abominably, my dear,” he told her, watching her intently from heavily
lidded eyes. “I shall do much better. Come away with me, little thief, and you
may take whatever you wish for one night.”

“Let
go,” Julianna demanded through gritted teeth as she twisted her arm in his
grasp.

Mr.
Templeton looked amused. “But we’ve only just found you, little thief.” He
still held his drink in one hand, but with the other he was able to drag her
closer—so close that he could pin her to his chest if he chose.
Julianna’s heart was pounding. Suddenly she remembered that she was holding a
glass of lemonade. She reached around as if to embrace him only to dump the
lemonade over his head. Coughing and spluttering, he let her go, and Julianna ran
behind Alasdair.

“Get
out,” Alasdair growled, his body rigid with anger.

Mr.
Templeton laughed weakly as he rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think she needs your
protection, old man. She does quite well defending herself.” He shook his head
and drops of lemonade flew, making Alasdair turn his head away. Mr. Templeton
sighed. “I thought we might try scaring the location of the pearl out of her,
Sharp
. She doesn’t scare easily, does she?”

If
only he knew, Julianna thought, her knees still trembling.

“Apologize,”
Alasdair demanded.

Mr.
Templeton turned to her and bowed deeply. “My sincere apologies, Miss Harte. I
meant no harm. I daresay I shall remember none of this in the morning, but you
shall and for that I am truly sorry.” He straightened and looked around in
confusion. “Now where did I put that drink?”

He
was very drunk indeed, standing there with lemonade dripping from his hair as
he searched for the glass he’d dropped.

“It’s
over there,” she said quietly, pointing to the glass under a chair where it had
rolled.

Mr.
Templeton smiled broadly. “Now see there! She is almost as clever as Hil, able
to find that which is lost. Clever girl.”

Alasdair
sighed. “Go to bed, Roger. We shall discuss this in the morning.”

Roger
wagged his finger in response. “Trying to get rid of me, eh? Is this the
seduction part of the evening? But that’s exactly what I was trying to help
with.”

Julianna
crossed her arms and regarded him wryly. “Not very well, if I may say so, Mr.
Templeton. Now be a good boy and do as Alasdair says.”

“Always
where I am not wanted,” Mr. Templeton lamented with a sigh. He sidled over next
to Alasdair and then rested his chin on his friend’s shoulder. “You used to
want me to join in,
Sharp
,” he whispered, watching
Julianna. “If you change your mind . . .” He let the thought trail off as he
winked at Julianna. Alasdair jerked his head aside but Mr. Templeton just
laughed and it was a rich, decadent sound. Then he walked unsteadily to the
door. Before he reached for the handle, he turned to Alasdair. “Psst!” he
hissed loudly. “I don’t think she’s a bad sort,
Sharp
,”
he attempted to whisper. “I thought she’d flay me alive when I first touched
her. Bad girls love me, don’t you know.” With that extraordinary performance he
left, after walking into the door only once.

Alasdair
ran a hand over his face. “He’s a good sort, really, just very unhappy.”

“Aren’t
we all?” Julianna mumbled as she began to brush drops of lemonade off her
dress. “I look as if I walked here in a rain shower.” Curiosity and shock
warred within her. Curiosity won. “What did he mean by ‘join in’?” she blurted
out. She couldn’t look at him.

“Nothing,”
he answered firmly. He said nothing else and she peeked sideways at him to see
a blush staining his cheeks. He immediately changed the subject. “Had we spoken
before the night you stole my pearl?”

“Yes,”
she said, not surprised by his abrupt change of topic, “briefly once or twice.”
Her tone was mocking. “But the great Alasdair Sharp was far too busy and far
too dashing to pay attention to the inconsequential daughter of his new
neighbor.”

Alasdair
looked sick to his stomach. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t recognized her. “You
really don’t remember meeting me at all, do you?” she accused. She was only
mildly annoyed since she’d suspected it already.