The Devil's Thief (19 page)

“Not
always,” Alasdair replied in a low voice, and Julianna could feel the heat of
her blush spread from her chest to her cheeks. Mr. Templeton cleared his throat
and Sir Hilary made an inane comment about the likelihood of rain.

When
it was time to go, Miss de Tournay returned to their table with a large box of
pastries. Julianna took it and looked over at her maid, who had been sitting
quietly on a bench by the door enjoying her own treat. Tessa got up immediately
and took the box from Julianna with a smile. She knew where the pastries were really
going. Julianna avoided Alasdair’s eyes, but Mr. Templeton exclaimed in shock.

“All
of that for your cook’s cat?” He shook his head. “I believe you spoil the
creature, Miss Harte.”

“I
daresay it must have kittens,” Sir Hilary retorted. “Is that not so, Miss
Harte?”

Julianna’s
mouth went dry. A quick glance at Sir Hilary revealed nothing. He merely looked
amused, which seemed to be an almost permanent expression for him. “How did you
know?” Julianna asked with a false smile. Alasdair’s eyes narrowed some more.

“Miss
de Tournay mentioned
les bébés
, did
she not?” Sir Hilary answered.

Julianna
was swamped with relief. “Yes, yes she did. And of course Cook and the pot boy
share them, too.” Oh, how she hated to lie. They had all been so pleasant today
and it felt horrible to ruin that. With a start Julianna remembered her
appointment with the solicitor. She’d forgotten all about it while they’d been
in the patisserie. With the recollection came the reminder of why she had to
lie. To protect the children and the home, of course, but in a more convoluted
way to protect Alasdair. The whole situation was actually becoming rather
confusing on the whole.

“Have
you the time, Sir Hilary?” she inquired sweetly when they found themselves out
on the street again.

Sir
Hilary flipped up the top on his walking stick and looked at his timepiece. “It
is nearly quarter past one.” He looked up, a surprised expression on his face.
“So early! I am not used to getting up when the cock crows.”

“Then
might I inquire why you did so this morning?” Julianna asked, though she was
certain she knew the answer. But Sir Hilary had not been with them for the
majority of the day.

“I
had some business to take care of,” he answered vaguely with the same
dismissive smile he’d given Miss de Tournay. Julianna was not so easily
dismissed, but before she could inquire further, Alasdair spoke up.

“Are
you bringing your pastries home, Miss Harte? May I escort you?” She longed for
one shred of warmth in his tone, but there was none. Only a cold anger that was
out of proportion to the lie she’d told him. Did he somehow know that her lie
was related to the pearl?

“I
am a bit tired, Mr. Sharp.” She smiled thinly. “Perhaps you would be so good as
to hail a hackney for me?”

Without
a word he stepped closer to the street traffic and waited for a carriage to
pull over. When one did, he opened the door and helped Tessa inside and then
held out his hand for Julianna. When she slid her hand into his, a jolt of pure
pleasure made her start and her fingers involuntarily clenched on his. For a
moment she thought she saw an answering flare of heat in his eyes, but it was
too fleeting to have been genuine, so it must surely have been her imagination.

He
helped her into the carriage and released her hand without speaking. Then he
gave the driver directions to her father’s house.

“Good
afternoon,” she said as he closed the door slowly.

“Good
afternoon . . . Miss Harte,” he answered. Then he stepped away and the carriage
rumbled into traffic.

At
the end of the street Julianna gave a different address to the driver and they
turned toward Tottenham Court. She was going to miss her appointment with the
solicitor.

*
         
*
         
*

Alasdair
watched as her carriage pulled up in front of a public house called the Black
Horse. He quickly rode his own horse down a nearby alley. He felt like a
criminal himself, lurking in back alleys to spy on a woman.

Roger
and Hil had declined to follow her with him. Roger was disgusted with him and
he’d made that very plain.

“She
is no more a criminal than Hil’s aunt Gertrude,” he told him flatly. “She is
sweet and witty and intelligent, and it offends me that you insist she is both
a liar and a whore. If I hadn’t embarrassed myself with less-than-outstanding
behavior last night, I’d lay you out right now for even hinting such things.”

“I
never called her a whore,” Alasdair denied vehemently.

“You
accused her of having other lovers,” Roger pointed out, and Alasdair could not
deny it. “It is tantamount to calling her a whore, when it is painfully obvious
to any man with a brain in his head that she is not. You idiot.”

Hil
had patted Roger on the back approvingly. “Not so dense after all, are you,
Roger?” He’d been smugly amused. “No, Sharp. I believe that you are on your own
now. We have done all we can to help you catch the lady. It is up to you to
follow through, I think.”

Hil
had refused to tell him what he’d learned this morning while Alasdair and Roger
were escorting Julianna about town. Hil had slipped into the shadows at
Billingsgate Market and he’d interviewed the fishmongers she’d visited after
they left. According to him he’d learned nothing there, and he hadn’t fared
much better at Covent Garden, where he’d repeated the process. It wasn’t until
he followed Julianna’s footman home that he’d learned anything. But he was being
infuriatingly close mouthed about it, in typical Hil fashion.

“It
is neither here nor
there
at this juncture,” he’d said
with a dismissive wave of his hand, “it will not help us in locating the pearl.
I’m sure all will be revealed by Miss Harte herself in due time.” He’d pointed
to the carriage as it turned in the opposite direction of Julianna’s father’s
house. “I believe your quarry is getting away.”

She
hadn’t even told him the truth about the pastries she had bought earlier.
Pastries for cats, as if he was stupid enough to believe that.
As far as Alasdair was concerned, her destination only proved his suspicions
about her. What gently bred young lady would frequent a place like this in
Tottenham Court? Alone? Well, he assumed her maid was still with her, but that
was hardly significant in this situation. The miscreants who were lingering on
the stoop didn’t exactly seem to be upstanding citizens, and a petite lady’s
maid would not be much of a deterrent if they decided to harm Julianna.

Alasdair
watched as the driver opened the carriage door and Julianna appeared, stepping
lightly down onto the pavement. She turned and waved her maid back into the
carriage as a young ruffian sauntered over to her. Alasdair put a heel to his
horse, intent on protecting Julianna, but then she smiled at the young man and
held out her hand. He smiled back and said something that made her laugh, and
then he took her hand, bowed over it, and kissed it. Alasdair pulled back on
the reins so hard that his horse Plato tossed his head in protest. Still
smiling, Julianna allowed the man to place her hand on his arm and they engaged
in fervent conversation for several minutes, an indecent closeness between
them, their heads bent together.

With
each moment that passed, Alasdair felt a cold rage building inside of him. He’d
been right about her. He hadn’t wanted to be, he realized now. He hadn’t wanted
to know that she had other lovers; that to her he had been nothing more than a
gullible, foolish victim. But here was the proof. The boy greeted her as if
they were long-standing acquaintances. He was clearly protective of her, and
his protection was enough to keep the others at bay.

After
much discussion Julianna turned back to the carriage and her maid handed the
pastries out. Julianna gave them to a belligerent young woman who had been glaring
at her during her conversation with the young ruffian. The girl flounced off
and the rest of the group descended on her to share the bounty. So these, then,
were the babes the pastries were meant for. The young man led Julianna over to
the side of the building and they disappeared around the corner. Alasdair
turned Plato away, determined to leave her here and head home. But after only a
few feet he stopped. He couldn’t do it. Sighing heavily, he turned his horse
yet again and casually walked him down the street and past the Black Horse.
Several of the women standing about called to him, attempting to entice him
into a quick trip into the nearby alley, the alley into which Julianna had disappeared.

Alasdair
gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going until he could peer between
the buildings of the alleyway. He was momentarily overcome by relief when he
didn’t see her there as he’d imagined he would, locked in an embrace with the
swaggering youth. But his relief was washed away by uneasiness. Where had they
gone? Inside? He shut his eyes tightly as he imagined all the things they could
be doing with more privacy.

 
He jerked Plato to a stop and ran a
shaking hand over his face. This was ridiculous. He had to stop these lurid
imaginings. He clicked his tongue and Plato moved slowly forward, up to the
next street, where Alasdair once again sought cover to spy on Julianna. He
settled into a shadowy space with a clear view of the alley and waited.

*
         
*
         
*

“What
do you mean, ‘No’?” Julianna demanded. “I am giving you back your four hundred
pounds. I would like my pearl back.”

“T’isn’t
your pearl anymore,” Blackman said with a mouthful of food. Julianna’s lips
curled in disgust. “It’s my pearl. Bought it fair and square. If you want it
back you’ll have to buy it, just like any other customer. And the price is now
eight hundred pounds.”

“Eight
hundred pounds! But . . . but that is outrageous! You only paid me four hundred
for it.”

Blackman
swallowed and wiped his mouth on a dirty napkin. “Well, now, I’ve got to earn a
little something, too, don’t I?” He smiled and Julianna was reminded of a rat.
“If you got four hundred for it, why shouldn’t I? So I’m only asking for what
you got. Fair’s fair, girl. A man has got to make a living.”

“Making
one and stealing one are two entirely different things,” she drawled
sarcastically.

Blackman
laughed. “Now, I like you, miss. Every time you come to see old Blackman you
forget that you stole the pearl in the first place. So you’re the pot calling
my kettle black, seems to me. And I’m not stealing your money.” He shrugged.
“I’m simply telling you how much what you want will cost.”

Julianna’s
heart was beating like a deranged hammer. “I haven’t got eight hundred pounds,
Mr. Blackman. If I had, I would have had no need to steal the pearl in the
first place.”

He
shrugged again. “Then we got nothing to talk about.”

“Mr.
Blackman—” she began, but the burly guard Cam came up and grabbed her
arm.

“You
heard him,” he barked, shoving her toward the door.

“Now,
see here,”
Julianna
protested. “I am heartily sick of
your shoving me about, Mr. . . . Cam, and I would appreciate it if you would
stop doing so.” She tried in vain to yank her arm free, but he just tightened
his grip. “You’re hurting me!” Julianna cried out as he opened the door and
threw her into the hall. Once again she fell into Mr. Wiley.

“Now,
Cam, no need to be so rough. I’ve got her,” the youth said soothingly. He
maneuvered Julianna behind him and held out his hands in a placating manner
toward the bristling guard. “I tried to tell her, didn’t I? But women has
always got to find out for their selves, don’t they?”

“Get
’er out of ’ere, Wiley,” Cam growled. “I don’t like ’er. Her kind are always
trouble.”

“You’re
absolutely right, Cam.
Trouble from the word go
, I
tell you. More than their worth, ain’t that the truth.” While he was talking
Mr. Wiley was gently pushing Julianna toward the stairs.

“I
am not done,” she told him in a frantic whisper. “I’ve got to get that pearl
back.”

He
shushed her with a hand waving behind his back. When they reached the top of
the stairs, he took her arm and hustled her down the first few steps.

“Mr.
Wiley,” she said more loudly. “I really must go back and see Mr. Blackman. I
have to get that pearl back. It is a matter of honor.”

“Honor
won’t chew your food nor lift your fork,” he said in a rather angry undertone,
“so’s I’d shut my mouth if I were you. Blackman’s done with you, and Cam would
like nothing more than to go a round or two with you.”

Julianna
reared back in surprise and quickly turned her head to look back at Cam. He was
standing at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed and his heavily booted
feet spread wide. He smiled at her, and the sight of it made her skin crawl.

“Yes,
I see your point,” she agreed in a shaky voice, letting Mr. Wiley guide her
down the steps.

This
time when the door closed behind them, Julianna had to stop and lean against
the side of the building for a moment because her legs were so shaky and unreliable.
She rubbed the spot on her arm where Cam had grabbed her.