Lady Thief (7 page)

Jenny thought of the dispatches, and carefully weighed the risks of taking them to Spencer. The risk of taking them herself was great; Jason had been right in saying that would be a sure way of getting herself hanged.

Yet, she had no choice. She slowly tore the message into tiny bits. She would take the dispatches to Spencer.

 

 

It was nearly midnight. Spencer sat at the desk in his study, looking over the deeds to some property he had just purchased. He had no expectation of receiving a visit from the Cat; he had left a message for her only that morning.

He heard no sound; there was no warning of her coming. One moment he was alone in the study, the next he felt a presence in the room. He slowly turned his head to see her standing silently inside the open window.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

He rose slowly to his feet, smiling. “Good evening. I didn’t expect you to come quite so soon—I left the message only this morning.”

She smiled easily. “You wanted to see me, I believe?”

“Yes.” He moved carefully around to sit on the corner of his desk. “There are some important dispatches missing from the War Office. I thought you should know about it.”

Jenny pulled a bundle from beneath her cloak and tossed it to him. Silently, she awaited his reaction.

He perused the documents for a few moments, then looked up at her. “That was quick work.” There was a speculative gleam in his eyes.

She smiled wryly. “I suppose you may be forgiven for what you are thinking, Your Grace, though I find it hard to do so. No, I did not take the dispatches. A friend of mine—a highwayman—took them from a coach bound for the Channel. He gave them to me. I have no idea who removed them from the War Office. You may believe that if you choose.”

He inclined his head gravely. “If you say that you did not take them, then of course I believe you.”

“Why ‘of course’?”

He placed the dispatches on the desk and studied her thoughtfully. “I trust you,” he replied calmly.

She shook her head with a faint smile. “To trust a thief? You’re a strange man, Your Grace.”

“We have been over that before. I do not believe you are a thief.”

“Then you are a poor judge of character,” she responded coolly.

“I think not.”

She stirred impatiently. “Shall we agree to differ on that point? I am only concerned that the dispatches are returned to the proper authorities. I assume that you will see to that?”

He rose, smiling. “Of course. But that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to see you.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No. I’d like to become better acquainted with you. I’ve been thinking of you—almost constantly—ever since we first met. There are several things about you which puzzle me.”

As he spoke, he moved closer to her and Jenny, caught up in what he was saying, was unaware until too late what his intentions were. Instinctively, she reached for the pistol in her belt, only to find her wrists caught in his strong hands.

With a calm smile, he gazed down at her enraged eyes. “I am most curious to discover whether or not there is a woman beneath that mask.”

Jenny smiled thinly. “Brute force, Your Grace?”

“You must forgive my tactics, but they seemed the best—under the circumstances.”

Jenny stared up at him, startled to discover how tall he was; the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. After a moment, she said quietly, “If you mean to remove my mask, I can do nothing to stop you. But if you do, I will hate you for the rest of my life.”

The total lack of expression in her voice convinced him far more than any emotional outburst would have done. With a sigh, he murmured, “Yes, I suppose you would hate me—and that is the last thing I want. I won’t try to remove your mask.”

“Thank you.” She smiled slightly. “And could you also release my hands?”

“So that you can shoot me?” His smile was wry.

“You said that you trusted me,” she reminded him.

“So I did—until I gave you reason to shoot me.”

“Very well. I give you my word that I will not shoot you.” But the duke was no longer attending. He was staring at her, and something in his eyes gave his thoughts away.

Jenny felt the first stirring of panic. “Your Grace, you wouldn’t—” She began to struggle, fighting desperately to free herself from him.

Spencer controlled her struggles easily. He looked down at her, a flame burning deep in his eyes. “There is more than one way to discover if there is a real, warm-blooded woman beneath that mask.

“Let me go, damn you!”

He pulled her against him suddenly, pinning her arms between their bodies. “I’m afraid that I can’t do that. I must know, you see . . .”

Jenny stared up at him as his head slowly lowered to hers. Her fear left her the moment his lips touched hers. Suddenly, there wasn’t anything to be afraid of.

Jenny had never been kissed before, but she was a woman and her response was instinctive. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she returned his kiss with an ardor she didn’t know she possessed. For her, the world vanished. No thoughts of danger entered her head; she didn’t worry about her identity being discovered. All that mattered were his arms around her and his lips moving possessively over her own.

Spencer had wondered if there was a real woman beneath the mask; he had asked himself if any woman could do the things that this one did. He had his answer now. No matter what had driven her to her strange career, she was quite definitely a woman.

He fought to keep a tight rein on his passion; he had no desire to frighten her away before he could learn her identity.

With obvious reluctance, he slowly drew away from her and gazed down at her upturned face. Her face was bemused, her eyes dazed with passion. His voice husky, Spencer murmured, “So—you are a woman, after all.”

Jenny stared up at him, the dazed look slowly fading from her eyes. Her arms slid from around his neck and she stepped back, shaking her head in an unbelieving manner. “You—you don’t play fair, Your Grace. I didn’t realize how ruthless you could be.” Her voice was low and haunted.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, yes, you did. How did it feel, Your Grace, kissing the Cat?” There was as much hurt as anger in her voice—though she was unaware of it.

“It wasn’t like that.” He stepped toward her, his eyes grave.

“Wasn’t it? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. I hope you’re satisfied, Your Grace. When they lead me to the gallows, you can tell all of your friends that you kissed the Cat.” Her laughter rang out harshly in the still room.

“No.” His voice was low and taut, his face strained. “I kissed you because I couldn’t help myself—because I am attracted to you. It had nothing to do with your being the Cat.”

“Didn’t it?” She moved quickly to the window, and then gazed back at him, cold mockery in her eyes. “A woman in a mask quite piques the curiosity, Your Grace. It was nothing more than that.” She slipped out the window and disappeared into the night.

Spencer stood and stared after her. “You’re wrong,” he murmured. “It was much more than that.”

Chapter Seven

Jenny wearily pulled herself out of bed early the next morning. She had slept very little during the few hours she had been in bed, her mind filled with her visit to the duke’s house. Over and over, she had considered his actions, finally coming to the conclusion that he never would have kissed her had she not been the Cat.

It was useless to remind herself that she never would have met him either if she had not been the Cat. She was interested only in his reason for kissing her. He had kissed her because she was the Cat; because his curiosity had been piqued by a strange woman in a black mask. It was a lowering reflection.

Jenny sighed and, fighting off her depression, began to dress for the day. She was braiding her hair when she heard a sudden commotion outside her bedroom door. Leaving the waist-length braid hanging over one shoulder, Jenny quickly went to find the source of the commotion.

Meg, with tears streaming down her cheeks, fell into Jenny’s arms the moment the door was opened. “Oh, Jenny, Mama says I can never see Robert again!”

Lady Ross, one step behind her, said sternly, “Jenny, Meg tells me that you were aware of this disgraceful situation. It was very improper of you not to have come to me. I am surprised at you. That any daughter of mine could condone anything so improper.”

Jenny felt a headache coming on. Making no attempt to halt Meg’s sobs, she said to her mother, “Mama, they love each other. It would be heartless to forbid them to see each other. I know I should have told you, but I was hoping to find some way of gaining Sir George’s permission for them to marry.”

“Marry! Jenny, Meg is little more than a child. And I have no very high opinion of a man who would meet a girl of Meg’s age in so clandestine a fashion. This Robert is obviously a cad with no proper feelings at all. I will not allow it.”

“On the contrary, Mama, Robert is every inch the gentleman. He is strongly averse to seeing Meg in such a manner, but what more can he do? Sir George would have him thrown from the house.”

“Because he is penniless. I will not allow Meg to throw herself away by marrying a man who has not even the means to support her.”

Deciding that the time for tact was long past, Jenny said brutally, “Then you will be condemning her to a loveless marriage. Would you like to see her sold to the highest bidder? You know very well that Sir George intends to do so. Just as he tried to force me to marry that horrible Lord Stoven.”

Lady Ross said firmly, “Meg is too young to marry anyone at present. She is barely out of the schoolroom. And she will not be forced to marry anyone against her will. I will not allow it.”

Continuing to employ brutal tactics, Jenny said, “Mama, you have never stood up to Sir George. He intends to line his pockets with marriage settlements, and now that I have refused to comply, he will be twice as determined to marry Meg to a fortune. How do you mean to stop him?”

Lady Ross felt a sharp pain somewhere inside her as she saw the scorn in her daughter’s eyes. She realized then the damage she had done by bowing meekly to Sir George’s autocratic demands. She had destroyed any respect that her daughter may have felt for her.

Meg lifted tearstained eyes from Jenny’s shoulder and stared pleadingly at her stepmother. “Mama, I love Robert. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I don’t care that he hasn’t got any money.”

A plan began to weave itself through Lady Ross’s mind, and she said rather sharply, “Don’t be foolish, Meg. Without the comforts that money can provide, this love of yours would be destroyed within a year.”

Quietly, Jenny said, “Money isn’t everything, Mama. And I can give Meg a sizable dowry; that will help them quite a lot.”

Slowly, Lady Ross said, “You won’t come into your fortune for another year, Jenny.”

“Yes.” Jenny gave her mother a meaningful look, and then smiled at her stepsister. Gently, she said, “You will wait a year, won’t you, Meg?”

Her eyes wide, Meg whispered, “But it’s such a long time.”

“I know, honey. But the wait will accomplish several things. It will give you the chance to grow up a little; it will give Robert a chance to make sure that he can provide for you; and it will prove to Mama that you are serious about Robert.”

“But—a whole year.” Meg’s tears started up afresh. “I don’t know if I can bear it!”

Jenny patted her back comfortingly and stared rather wryly at her mother. “It
is
a little much to expect her to kick her heels for a year. She needs something to occupy her mind.”

“Yes,” Lady Ross murmured softly. The plan in her mind had now flowered to completion. “Come with me.” She turned abruptly and led the way toward the stairs.

The two girls followed as Lady Ross led the way, completely puzzled. It soon became apparent that her destination was Sir George’s study.

Meg immediately panicked. Her eyes wide with terror, she gasped, “Mama, no! Oh, please don’t tell Papa about Robert!”

Inexorably, Lady Ross said, “Come along.”

Jenny, sensing that her mother had some set purpose in mind, hushed Meg and, with an arm around her for support, led her into the study.

Sir George looked up as the ladies entered, his brow dark with irritation. “What’s all this? You know I hate to be disturbed. A pretty thing it is when a man can’t even find peace in his own home.”

Perfectly calm, Lady Ross informed him that she had caught Meg returning from a clandestine meeting with a young man unknown to any of the family except for Jenny. Since he was Meg’s father, it was imperative that he be put in possession of the facts.

Sir George ranted. He raved. He said a great many things that were largely unintelligible to his listeners—and a good thing, too. They would have curled their hair.

Jenny, wincing from some of the descriptive epithets of her character (for Sir George was still enraged about Lord Stoven), wondered if the servants were being well entertained. His voice was no doubt audible in the village.

Ten minutes later, he was still going strong. He worked off his rage toward Jenny in fine style, tearing her character to shreds and depressing any pretentions she may have had toward being a human being of any consequence at all.

Jenny bore the abuse stoically, her face expressionless and her eyes veiled. Automatically, she patted Meg from time to time as the younger girl, convinced that she was next, sobbed pathetically into her shoulder. In a detached manner, she wondered if his rage would bring on a fit.

Having dispensed with Jenny to his satisfaction, Sir George finally began slashing verbally at Meg. He used words and phrases that would have shocked even the most depraved of women, and a spark of anger showed in Jenny’s eyes.

Interrupting him in mid-insult, Jenny said coldly, “That is quite enough. Meg is completely innocent; it was your cruelty that drove her to meet Robert on the sly. You have no cause to say such horrible things about your own daughter.”