The Devil's Thief (11 page)

When
she looked back at Blackman, she realized that he was watching her coldly and
she felt the blood drain from her face. He motioned her over with a crook of
his finger, and when she remained rooted to the spot, he waved the signed
banknotes he was holding in one hand. “Don’t you want your payment, Miss?” His
grin was wicked, and she knew with utter certainty that men like him were the
reason why her father had wanted to protect her from this sordid side of his
life. But she needed to get her money—otherwise this whole trip would be
wasted and she would be right back where she started. She inched forward as
close as she dared and stretched her hand out. As soon as he placed the notes
in her palm she snatched her hand back and immediately counted them.

Blackman
laughed. “Now you see, Cam, this is my kind of girl. Doesn’t trust a soul, and
well she shouldn’t.”

When
she finished counting, she looked up suspiciously. “It’s all here.”

He
shrugged. “ ’Course it is. If word got around that I stiffed a supplier, my
merchandise would run low.” He waved his hand at the
door
as he turned away from her, already moving on to other business. “Go on. And if
you’ve got a mind to steal any other famous jewels, you come and see Blackman
about it.”

Cam
grabbed her upper arm again and shoved her unceremoniously toward the door. He
opened it and pushed her through before she had a chance to jam the notes into
her reticule. She immediately slammed into a warm body.

“ ’Ere,
now, Cam, no need to be so rough with the lady.” Mr. Wiley grabbed her
shoulders and peered at her, and she noticed that they were exactly the same
height. “Are you all right, miss?” he inquired gently, and Julianna could have
kissed him for his kindness. He looked down and saw the banknotes in her hand.
“You’d best be puttin’ those away, miss, if you don’t want to lose ’em.” She
shoved the notes into her bag—uncaring that they were wrinkled as long as
they were out of sight. She could feel Cam’s impatience behind her. Now that
the transaction was done, he clearly wanted her gone.

When
she was done, Mr. Wiley took her arm and steered her down the steps. It was
awkward because of the narrow stairwell, but Julianna didn’t complain. Now that
her encounter with Blackman was over, shock was beginning to fray her nerves.
She was trembling and her legs felt like butter. The hulking presence of Cam
descending just behind her didn’t help.

Cam
made no concession to her fear and when they reached the bottom of the steps,
he shoved past them and threw open the door. The sunlight streamed into the
hall and Julianna nearly cried out with relief at the sight of it.

“Out,”
Cam said in his abrupt way. Julianna was only too glad to oblige him. “I’ll be
seeing you,” he sneered knowingly as she walked past him.

 
“Why do you say that?” she asked
tremulously.

 
“They all come back,” he said with a
cruel grin. “They think it’s only the one time, but they all come back.” With
that parting comment he put his index finger against her shoulder and pushed
her out the door, then closed it firmly in her face. She just stood there
staring stupidly at the closed door.

“Come
on, then,” Mr. Wiley said quietly. “Time to put you back in your carriage, miss,
and send you home.” Julianna was startled when he pulled her toward the carriage
that held a nervous Tessa and the waiting hackney driver.

The
driver began to hand her up into the carriage and Mr. Wiley turned away before
Julianna came to her senses. “Wait! Mr. Wiley,” she called out. He turned back.
She stepped over to him and held out her hand. “Thank you so much for your
assistance,” she said sincerely. “I don’t know what I would have done if you
hadn’t been here.”

He
was frozen with shock for a moment before he gathered his wits about him. He
shook her hand and then looked around at the gang of youths still loitering on
the pavement and thumbed his nose deprecatingly at their catcalls. “And don’t
you forget it, miss,” he said seriously. “Don’t you be going to any of them
other flash
houses.
You won’t find old Wiley there.
You hear?”

Julianna
finally let the driver help her into the carriage. She leaned out the still- open
door. “Oh, I won’t forget, Mr. Wiley. Believe me, I won’t forget.”

Chapter
Eight

“What
about that one?”

“Too
plump.” They had been walking along Bond Street for several hours and still
Alasdair hadn’t caught sight of his mysterious little thief. This had seemed
like a good idea when he’d suggested it a few hours earlier, but now he was
beginning to despair.

“I
don’t think she’s too plump,” Hil commented. He was leaning against a
streetlamp, listening as Roger and Alasdair discussed each woman who passed
them by. So far he’d been rather quiet and relatively useless.

Roger
looked at him askance. “I didn’t know you liked plump women.”

“I
don’t necessarily,” he said with a shrug. “But that one looks friendly. I think
I should like to shag a friendly woman for a change. A great deal of laughter and
tenderness sounds rather nice right now.”

“When
did you become such an old woman?” Roger asked incredulously.

Alasdair
laughed, but he was truly frustrated. He took off his hat and ran his hand
through his hair as a couple of young ladies passed by, followed by their
maids. All three men tipped their hats politely and the ladies burst into a
flurry of giggles. Roger looked at him but before he could even ask, Alasdair
said, “Too young.”

Roger
turned to Hil and raised his brows in mock inquiry.

Hil
nodded. “I completely agree. Too young by far.” He shuddered and Roger laughed.

Alasdair
pointed at various women on the street. “Too young, too old, too tall.” He sighed.
“Either that or they’re too silly, too short, too thin, or too flat chested.
And, good God, look at that arse.”

Roger
and Hil both looked at the woman he was describing and Roger whistled under his
breath.

Hil
frowned at them both. “That was unconscionably rude. She looks like my Aunt
Gertrude, whom I adore.”

 
“My apologies,” Roger said, giving him a
slight bow. “I had forgotten your predilection for plump women.”

 
“Yes, well, they’re rather friendly,
after all,”
Alasdair
added with a grin. He and Roger burst
out laughing while Hil made a rude gesture.

“How
about that one?” Roger asked, nodding toward a different woman. “She’s about the
right height,” he held his hand up to his shoulder, “and she has a nice figure.
I believe that’s dark hair under her bonnet.”

“Roger,”
Alasdair exclaimed in exasperation, “she’s at least forty!” Although he had to
admit she was holding up rather well. She had noticed their attention and was
frowning at them, so Alasdair tipped his hat with a smile. She turned away
haughtily. “Definitely not my thief,” he murmured. “Too unfriendly.”

“Well,
she’s far too thin, that’s why.” Hil’s tone was professorial. “Women who don’t
eat are naturally unhappy because they are hungry all the time.”

Roger
barked with laughter. “Is that it? And all this time I thought it was just a
woman’s natural inclination. I had no idea they were all starving to death.”

Alasdair
snorted. “In your case, Roger, I believe their unfriendliness has more to do
with your presumptuous and immoral suggestions than hunger.”

It
was Roger’s turn to make a rude gesture. “Women adore me.”

“Arrgh,”
Alasdair growled in frustration as he spun away from the building where they
were standing. Several people looked at him in alarm and scurried away.

“They
think you’re having some sort of fit,” Roger said drily as he peered down the
sidewalk at the people rushing away.

“Oh,
dear,” Hil said. “I left my vinegar water at home.”

“This
is hopeless,” Alasdair cried out, alarming yet more people. There was now a
wide berth around them. “We shall never find her this way.”

“It’s
about bloody time you figured that out,” Hil said. “My feet are aching from
standing idly about all day.” He flipped the top up on his walking stick,
revealing a timepiece. “Come on. We’ve wasted half the day already.” He flipped
the top down again with a resolute
click
.
He tugged Alasdair’s arm, and in defeat Alasdair allowed himself to be pulled
down the street, with Roger trailing behind them. “Don’t be so melancholy,” Hil
admonished him. “I have a plan.”

*
         
*
         
*

“This
is his brilliant plan?” Alasdair groaned under his breath to Roger the
following night. They were at Hil’s again, but not alone. Half of Mayfair was
there with them, drinking Hil’s champagne and eating hors d’oeuvres. “We will
never find her here. This is folly. She cannot possibly be one of these
ladies.” The two men were standing near Hil just inside the door of his
townhouse, watching as Hil and his aunt Gertrude welcomed his guests. Hil’s
aunt was indeed very sweet and Alasdair felt guilty for laughing yesterday on
Bond Street.

“What
I want to know is how Hil got all these people to attend on such short notice,”
Roger said. “This time of year most people have an engagement every evening,
many planned well in advance. And yet he sends out a spur-of-the-moment
invitation and it appears as if everyone dropped everything to come. I’m
expecting Prinny to walk through the door any moment.”

“The
Prince Regent will most likely not show,” Alasdair told him. “He and Hil had
some sort of falling out after Hil was knighted.” On Hil’s behalf, he resented
the gawking throng that had shown up tonight. They were treating Hil more like
an oddity at the fair than their elegant host. “He is Sir Hilary St. John. He’s
an enigma. A rake, a scholar, a patron of the Royal Society, an eligible
bachelor, a figure of great renown and even greater mystery. How could anyone
turn down a coveted invitation to see the lion in his den?” Alasdair was only
half-joking.

“There
is also the fact that he is an eligible bachelor,” Roger mused. “Every single
person here is either an unmarried girl, related to an unmarried girl, or chaperoning
an unmarried girl. I’d say Hil’s bachelor state and his income have more to do
with the guest list than anything else.”

Alasdair
snorted. “Are we so cynical then?” he asked rhetorically. “For I believe that
you are right.”

Roger
gave him a wry look. “It’s not cynicism, it’s self-defense.”

After
welcoming the last of his guests, Hil turned to Alasdair and said, “Come,
Sharp, let us go around and greet our guests.” He bowed over his aunt’s hand.
“You have done me a great service, Auntie, and I am in your debt.” She smiled
at him benignly and waved him off, turning to greet an older woman who hailed
her across the hall.

“Didn’t
you already greet your guests?” Roger asked curiously as he followed them into
the drawing room.

“Not
in any great depth.” Hil surveyed the room as if searching for someone, and
steered them into the thick of the crowd. “Now we must remember the clues and
use all our skills to detect if Alasdair’s thief is here with us tonight.”

“Is
he going to seduce every girl here?” Roger asked in amusement.

An
older woman overheard them and gasped, yanking the arm of her young charge and leading
the protesting girl quickly away from them. Alasdair sighed. He was quite sure
that between his behavior on Bond Street yesterday and that little
on dit
his already-tarnished reputation
had received irreparable harm over the past two days.

“I
certainly hope not,” Hil replied. “The effort would no doubt render him ill and
he would be unable to retrieve the pearl when we ascertain its whereabouts.”

“Thank
you for your concern,” Alasdair said drily. “I shall try to refrain from any
unwarranted seductions this evening in order to keep up my strength.”

“Very
good. But if you feel that one is warranted in order to identify your thief,
simply give us the signal and we shall disguise your intent.”

“What?”
Alasdair exclaimed. “You don’t actually expect me to compromise someone in
order to determine if she is my Juliet, do you?”

“I
should certainly hope not,” a stentorian voice proclaimed next to him.

Alasdair
winced as he turned to see a distinguished older gentleman glaring at him,
standing in front of what was obviously his innocent young daughter. Or perhaps
not so innocent—she was leaning around her father and giving the three of
them a saucy grin.

“Of
course not,” Hil answered smoothly. “The answer to his question was no, I
assure you. He was appalled that anyone would even consider such a thing. We
were just discussing the alarming lack of morals in today’s youth. What is
England coming to these days, I ask you?” Hil pulled Alasdair up beside him.
“Lord Percival, let me introduce you to Mr. Alasdair Sharp, a dear friend from
my school days.”

“How
do you do, my Lord?” Alasdair inquired politely with a small bow. Lord Percival
looked unimpressed, and now his daughter did as well.