To Love a Thief (Steel Hawk) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Rose hunched over the workbench she shared with her father, refusing to slacken her pace. Each paste jewel she crafted filled her with the pride that she carried on an art dating back to the Romans. They were known to be very skillful in producing colored-glass pastes, particularly emerald and lapis lazuli.

Her father had trained with the best, even a descendant of the Viennese goldsmith Joseph Strasser, whose technique gave the world the colorless glass paste that could barely be differentiated from the sparkle of a true diamond.

Now she put aside the two molded stones and began to work on a paste model. This was by far the better product, but it took time, and time was not something she had in abundance.

It had already past midnight, and she had to finish; otherwise, it would be too late to save her father. But even if she managed to steal the real diamond, replacing it with a fake—what then? How could she find those men who had her father? They could be anywhere.

Desperation soured in her gut. She wouldn’t think about that now. Just get the fake finished, steal the Pasha Star, and…

Dear God, help me.
Her father was all she had left.

At last, as the grandfather clock upstairs in their tiny lounge chimed three a.m., Rose stood back from her workbench and stretched, her knuckles kneading the small of her back as she arched. She twisted her head left, then right, and then dropped her head forward, trying to erase the kinks in her body from so many hours sitting in one position.

It didn’t matter. She would sit for however long it took. What was most important was to get it right. Perfect. There would be no second chance.

After lighting several other candles to illuminate the stones to their best advantage, she picked each up in turn, eyeing each beneath the flickering flame, watching the glint and fracture of light. The first two had small bubbles within the stone that would be picked up easily by a diamond specialist. She cast the molded stones aside and then gathered the two handcrafted stones.

Her breath exhaled, and a satisfied smile spread across her lips. “Perfect. Your best work ever, Rose Valetta.”

Just as it should be. This was her most important job ever, and nothing less than perfection would be acceptable.

Thank goodness she had the description of the stone in the scrap of newspaper article she’d found earlier. She reached for a book at the end of her workbench. The book her father brought from Zarrenburg all those years ago. It complemented the description in the newspaper. That was all she needed.

She reached for a linen cloth and wrapped each stone with reverence, then tucked them both into a leather pouch that she hid within the inside pocket of her jacket. No one would expect there to be jewels in such a scruffy bit of clothing. A perfect decoy.

In her other pocket, she stowed some fine tools that she thought might come in handy, and, with a sigh to steady her nerves, she blew out the candles and exited the workshop, heading out into the chilly night air.

She pulled the door closed and glanced up at the window facing the street. “Soon, Papa. Soon you’ll be home.” But first she had to steal the Pasha Star.

Keeping to the side streets, grateful there were barely any people about, Rose made her way west, arriving at Hyde Park while the moon still hung shrouded by thick clouds.

As she arrived at the Crystal Palace, she took a moment to take in everything about it. The building was Prince Albert’s triumph and looked like a giant glasshouse.

Guards still patrolled the grounds, but because of the hour were minimal. To the side, a row of plants had been delivered. A few landscapers were completing the grounds for the opening.

She needed to get inside.

Striding toward the line of small shrubs, she scooped up two lanky plants and held them up close so that they partially hid her. As she walked to the guard at the west entrance, her stomach tied itself in knots. She wanted to bolt. To run.

This is for Papa.

Her grip tightened on the containers. She nodded to the guard. “Plants for inside.”

The man glanced up from his tin mug of steaming tea. “Now? Bit early, ain’t it?”

“Better to get it done afore the royals arrive. Don’t want old Victoria to step in dirt, do ya?” From behind the plants, Rose watched the guard’s expression change as he deliberated her quandary.

“Right. Inside you go, but don’t dawdle.”

Giving him a quick nod, Rose scooted past him and walked beneath the barrel-vaulted transept. The moment her footfall landed on the wooden floorboards and the door closed behind her, she stilled.

The moon cast a luminescent glow across the glassed ceiling, lighting the building as if a thousand candles burned. It offered a semblance of daylight, yet there were several hours until dawn spawned another day.

She peered the length of the central hall, but so huge was the building, she could not see the end.

With the walls and ceiling made of glass, the papers had already nicknamed the building the Crystal Palace. Seeing it for herself, especially in the dead of night, she could understand why it had been given such a name.

With only a few hours before the exhibition would open, the wonders of this new industrial age were already on show. Entranced, she found herself wandering down the aisle, trailing fingers over thick columns of steel and wondering what everything did.

Suddenly, the cloud formation shifted, and the building dulled as the moon was once again cloaked.

Rose shook her head. She was wasting time. Depositing the shrubs to one side, she quickly made her way farther along the central pavilion. The Koh-I-Noor diamond offered by Her Royal Highness Queen Victoria for the exhibition was also on display. Rose only hoped that the Pasha Star would be nearby.

Feet barely touching the wood floor, she raced for the hall where British non-industrial products were to be displayed, grateful for the map she’d found in the newspaper.

Breath razoring in her chest, she came to a sudden halt. There it was. The diamond. The jewel that held secrets.

She eyed the case, which was set on a dais, noting its uniqueness immediately. Though it was made of glass similar to the entire building, there was one difference. The metallic casing was bronze, and the excessively thick glass seemed to have a grid of fine wire laced through it.

She was surprised there was no other security around it. No barrier or patrol to protect it. “Are you so sure of your lock, Mr. Hawk?” Her whisper echoed in the eerily silent building. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You might be surprised.”

Mr. Hawk.

Mr. Nathaniel Hawk, to be exact.

Nathan.

Oh, she’d recognized him the moment he had opened the door, but thankfully she’d been able to school her expression and keep to her disguise—hiding who she was. He’d had no idea.

Nathaniel Hawk had come into her life as a stray her father had brought home and subsequently trained to be one of the finest tool workers he’d ever seen.

For four years, he’d teased her, mocked her slight frame, called her eyes purple and nicknaming her carrot top and squirt.

Then there had come her sixteenth birthday. Nathan had teased her mercilessly, and she’d reacted by hitting him. It ended in a kiss.

The next day, he was gone. Forever. But she’d never forgotten that kiss.

“Stupid fool.” She reached up to the locking system, recognizing the multiple bar system instantly as something Nathaniel had begun to design all those years ago. She edged closer, counting the number of tiny bronze bars that interchanged in the lock system. There were ten in all, and though they weren’t numbered, Rose knew they would be counted off as zero to nine. Each bar had to be taken out in a sequence that would have been personalized to its owner.

But what sequence?

Who had set the sequence? The Pasha Star belonged to the royal family of Zarrenburg. Surely they would have set the sequence?

Or Nathan?

The Nathan she knew of years ago had been strong willed, determined, and exact with his work, always seeing it through to the very end.

She only hoped, he’d held true in this circumstance.

Scraping her teeth across her bottom lip, she eyed the casement. A date. A lucky number. Something.

Then she remembered it. A special day in Nathaniel’s life. The end of his apprenticeship.

“It’s time you learned a lesson, Nathan Hawk!” For a moment, she hesitated, then wiped her damp palm down her baggy trousers. She reached for the first bar. Zero. It slid out easily.

Could she be right? Could it be this easy?

She steeled her nerves and her shaking fingers, then pulled out bar six. Zero six for the month of June.

So far so good, though Nathan certainly wasn’t going to be happy.

“Tough luck.”

Her fingertips slid around bar one and gently tugged at it.

It didn’t budge.

She tried again, tugging a little harder this time.

Still it didn’t move.

Easing back on the balls of her feet, frustration riding every nerve, she stemmed her desire to yank harder.

But that wouldn’t help.

Rose remembered Nathaniel talking to her father about a lock system he wanted to design.

This lock.

It was a trick lock. The person trying to open it would think it was working, only to find that halfway through, it froze up, unless they had the correct sequence.

However, it seemed Nathan had not chosen his apprenticeship day.

She tried other combinations, panic rising as each one initially worked, then, on the third bar, the locking mechanism froze.

In the distance, she heard several cocks crow, their screeches reaching through the opened glass louvered high up in the towering ceiling. The moon too had shifted across the sky and now hung low in the west. Soon dawn would arrive, and she would fail—again.

“No. That is not going to happen.” Gritting her teeth, she swiped the back of her palm across her brow, aware of the sticky trail of sweat down her back and between her breasts. Again she scrubbed her hands down her sides, and then leaned into the lock, grateful for the last rays of moonlight from above.

There was one date left. Heart hammering a frantic tattoo, she pulled the first bar, the second, and then the third bar.

She waited.

Nothing happened. It didn’t freeze. “Thank God.”

He chose
that
date!

Something inside tugged at her heart.

The sound of footsteps and voices suffocated any whimsy, and she quickly pulled the other bars out in perfect sequence. They all slid easily. Relieved, she exhaled.

More voices, and no more time.

One minute, her heart seemed to want to beat out of her chest; now, as she clasped the latch to the Pasha Star’s security case, her heartbeat ceased.

Rose tugged at the latch, surprised again at the ease with which it slid open. And there was the diamond, resplendent on a black velvet backdrop. Perfection.

“No time to gawk, Rose.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the leather pouch, retrieving its contents. She unraveled the cloth and knew instantly which diamond she would choose. Rose held the Pasha Star up to the remaining light, bringing her paste diamond next to it. “It can’t be. Can’t be.” Oh dear God, she was too late.

The voices echoed ever closer. She had to get out of there now.

She placed the paste diamond in the display case, then quickly locked the plate-glass-and-wire-mesh door. She slid several of the bronze bars in random order to relock the system, then took a step back.

“Who the hell are you?”

Rose froze but didn’t turn round.

The footsteps closed in. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

Too late, it’s already gone. Oh, Papa, what do I do now?

She knew the voice, recognized it just as easily as she had done yesterday. Slipping the leather pouch into her coat pocket, she purposefully took on the air of an urchin as she turned.

Nathan Hawk stood with his partner, Ben Steel, along with another man she didn’t recognize.

“Bloody hell, Nathan, the diamond.”

Nathan’s jaw dropped. “You little thief!”

Rose feigned innocence and lowered her lashes, trying to divert their attention.
“
Me, a thief? Nah. I just came to ’ave a look at the bauble.” She needed to get away before Nathan truly recognized her. “I was just having a gander at it. Looks just like a bit of me ma’s chipped crystal vase, I reckon. Lot of fuss about nothing.”

He beckoned to her. “Come down.”

She stood rigid, not moving an inch.

Nathan took a step toward her. “Do as I say, or I will call for the constabulary.” He crooked his finger at her, his eyes narrow and speculative. Rose swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to close off her airway.

Damn! Rose bit her lip, desperate to get away. “No need, mister, it’s all innocent.”

She took a step.

“Closer.”

Her hands fisted at her sides, gaze darting to the right, to the left. No way out. She was cornered.

Suddenly, Nathan reached out and tipped her hat from her head. She snatched at it, but too late. He held it aloft.

“Hello, squirt. Long time, no see.”

“And whose fault is that,
Nathaniel Hawk
?
You left without even saying good-bye.”

“Nathan, what is going on? Who is this?” Ben stepped into the cordoned-off area around the diamond.

Something flickered across Nathan’s eyes. They were the color of the hot chocolate her mother used to make, warm and comforting. But all Rose remembered was his constant teasing, riling her so she would react, which, of course, she always did, and he would always laugh at her and walk away.

Except that one day…

She set her hands on her hips, uncaring now that her hair flowed down her back, her disguise disintegrated. She kept her gaze on Nathan. He’d changed a bit. Older. Broader. The strong jaw and piercing eyes with the golden thread circling the iris and the same mischievous twinkle were no different. The essence of the man was the same. The same air of devilment.