The Devil's Thief, page 19
She rolled her eyes. “Positively diabolical.” In a normal tone of voice she asked, “We’ve been enjoying fine weather lately, don’t you think?” Her stepmother smiled encouragingly at her, and she forced herself to smile back. Sir Hilary was holding court with the Lyttles on the other side of the room. Young Mr. Lyttle, however, stood in the center of the room with her father, staring in turns at Sir Hilary, her, and Alasdair while her father tried in vain to engage him in conversation.
“I tried to find an acquaintance of yours today. The one you told me about?”
Julianna gaped at him and then caught herself. “You what?” she said under her breath, hoping she’d misunderstood.
Alasdair’s eyes gleamed with humor. “If we speak circumspectly,” he whispered, “no one but Hil will know what we’re speaking of.”
Perhaps, but Julianna was having trouble finding her footing in the conversation. Ever since Alasdair had walked in, her equilibrium had been destroyed. It was as if the two separate spheres of her life were colliding. Julianna had relegated Alasdair to her secret life, while her father and stepmother were very much her real life. She wasn’t sure she was quite ready to combine the two.
Alasdair’s expression warmed considerably as he took in her hair and then her dress. “You look absolutely lovely, by the way,” he said softly.
Julianna felt the room tip beneath her feet. She’d dressed for him, not knowing he’d be here. And yet, here he was, and he thought her lovely. She blushed with pleasure and had to take another sip of sherry to cover her embarrassment and confusion.
“Not too much,” Alasdair warned. “This evening is shaping up to be far too interesting already.”
Interesting? Is that what he called it? “Which acquaintance?” she asked with a smile when she noticed that Mr. Lyttle was watching them. “I have so many.” Which was a terrible lie, of course. Surely he hadn’t gone in search of Blackman?
“The gentleman associated with the foundling home,” Alasdair said, locking his hands behind his back and nodding with a smile as if they weren’t discussing a completely inappropriate connection on her part.
“Oh, of course,” she said with a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’d completely forgotten about that. I’m not sure that he can be of any assistance, quite frankly. But you needn’t worry. I shall take care of it.”
They were still speaking quietly, though not furtively. But their private conversation was beginning to attract attention despite Sir Hilary’s best efforts to distract the others. Julianna smiled at the room in general and stepped around Alasdair, intending to rescue her father from Mr. Lyttle’s frowns. Alasdair bowed slightly as she passed and whispered near her ear, “I want you to forget about the pearl. I will deal with it.”
She didn’t bother to reply; she just raised her eyebrows as she threw him a glance over her shoulder. He had a great deal to learn if he thought that was going to stop her. She was determined to protect him and her father’s newfound respectability. And, of course, the children and the foundling home. And now she would also have to protect Mr. Wiley from Alasdair. She finished off her sherry on the way to her father and Mr. Lyttle.
* * *
Julianna must be exhausted, Alasdair thought as he watched her bid good night to her guests. She’d spent the entire evening avoiding his subtle questioning. Hil had tried to help him. He and Lyttle had some mutual acquaintances, including the Bow Street investigator, Vickery. Alasdair had thought Julianna was going to have apoplexy when Hil explained to Lyttle that they’d just seen Vickery today for some help with a new case. For the past half hour since the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies after dinner she had been studiously avoiding Alasdair altogether. He’d been forced into the company of Miss Lyttle, who was so shy that each word he dragged out of her was painful for both of them. The whole evening had been incredibly vexing. And if Julianna smiled any more brightly at Lyttle, Alasdair would not be responsible for his actions.
“What a delightful evening,” Hil’s aunt Mrs. Honeychurch gushed to the baroness. “I do love being privy to the conversations of well-educated gentlemen.”
While everyone responded to that inane observation, Alasdair signaled to Hil that he wanted a moment alone with Julianna. It had been impossible the entire evening and he was frustrated beyond belief. They all began to filter out of the drawing room, Alasdair first. Suddenly Hil stopped and exclaimed in alarm.
“Why, I’ve lost my watch. Auntie, you remember the one? I received it several Christmases ago. We must find it.” He managed to herd the rest of the guests back into the drawing room, ostensibly to help him look. When Julianna turned to follow, Alasdair gripped her arm and pulled her out the door and into the hall. He pressed her against the wall off to the side, out of view of the drawing room’s occupants, partially hidden by the half-open door.
“Alasdair,” she hissed, peering over at the door. “What are you doing?”
He’d meant to interrogate her sternly. Instead he silenced her with his mouth. Her arms flew around his neck and held him tightly and they kissed as if they’d perish without the taste of each other’s lips. He reluctantly pulled back when he realized they were getting carried away, but he kept raining kisses on her cheeks and jaw. “How long have we been apart?”
“Less than a day,” she whispered breathlessly.
“It seemed like a year,” he told her, drawn back to her warm lips. She sighed her agreement into his mouth.
“I’ve waited so long for you, Alasdair,” she murmured a moment later, as he savored the taste of the soft, delicate patch of skin just behind her ear.
He froze, his chest pressed against hers, their legs tangled, the taste of her in his mouth, her scent a brand upon him. He knew what she meant—she’d waited for him to notice her even before their night together. “I was a fool,” he told her. “And now I am double the fool, because I will make any excuse to see you, touch you, hold you.” He tightened his arms around her.
“Come to me tonight,” she whispered with desperation. “Please.”
He lifted her slightly and kissed her again. “I can’t,” he said against her lips with very real regret. Accepting the baroness’s dinner invitation was an important step in his plan to woo Julianna. Now they could claim an established acquaintance when he came to call on her, allowing them to avoid uncomfortable questions about how their attraction had developed. He wasn’t going to put his respectable courtship at risk.
“You must promise me not to do something foolish, Julianna,” he demanded. “Please don’t try to get the pearl back.”
“Oh, Alasdair,” she murmured, kissing his ear. But he wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t a promise.
“Promise me,” he said, pulling back so that he could look at her. “Tell me how to find your friend Wiley. I must have him if I am to get in to see this Blackman fellow.”
She paled and trembled in his arms. “You know about Wiley and Blackman?” she whispered.
“Yes. And I’ve got to get in to see Blackman. I’ve got to get the pearl back. It’s been in my family for generations. I can’t live with the loss, I won’t. It means too much.” When she stayed silent, he let some of his anger and frustration show. “Don’t you want me to get the pearl back? Why are you protecting Wiley?”
“Promise me you won’t go to see Blackman, Alasdair,” she entreated, her face drawn and worried. “He threatened dreadful things if I was to tell anyone about our transaction.”
“No,” he said, more sharply than he had intended, but she was acting foolishly. She struggled to get out of his arms. “You must promise me, Juli, that—”
“Put her down,” a deep, angry voice said over his shoulder.
Alasdair let her go and turned, trying to shield her from discovery. But it was only Lyttle. “Go away,” Alasdair said, irritated.
“Come here, Miss Harte,” Lyttle said, holding his hand out to Julianna.
“It’s all right, Mr. Lyttle,” Julianna said softly, her hands resting warmly against Alasdair’s back. “He has not done anything to me that I did not invite.”
Lyttle dropped his hand with a sigh. “If he’s got you in some coil or other, call on me,” he said wearily. He held out a card and Julianna took it, since it was the polite thing to do.
“A ‘coil’?” Alasdair demanded as quietly as his anger would allow. “What does that mean? I am not the irresponsible one here, Lyttle.”
Lyttle had the grace to blush. “It was an accident.”
“What was an accident?” Julianna asked.
Before they could answer, Hil’s voice came loudly from the drawing room door. “I believe both Sharp and Lyttle are out here with Miss Harte.”
Suddenly Julianna was falling into Alasdair’s arms and he had only an instant to catch her as Lyttle reached out to help, too, grabbing her flailing hand. It happened so fast that Alasdair wasn’t fully prepared for an armful of stumbling woman.
“My shoe!” Julianna cried out. “Oh, I’ve lost my shoe.” And when Alasdair looked down, sure enough, there was her shoe lying on its side. “Thank you so much, Mr. Sharp, Mr. Lyttle. I might have fallen down the steps had you not caught me.” Well, that was reaching a bit since the stairs were behind Lyttle, but no one else seemed to realize that. “I am so terribly clumsy tonight,” Julianna said apologetically as she stepped back into her shoe.
“Of course,” Lyttle said with no inflection in his voice. “If I can be of further service, please let me know.”
“Why is it, Mr. Sharp,” Mr. Harte said with ill-concealed suspicion, “that my daughter seems to fall whenever she is with you? First at Sir Hilary’s, and now again tonight.”
“Thank heavens Alasdair is quite good at catching falling ladies, Mr. Harte,” Hil observed with more than a trace of humor. “And Miss Harte’s shoe was far easier to find than my watch,” he continued. “How on earth it ended up under the sofa and behind the curtain I shall never know.” He shook his head as if in wonder. “I am forever finding lost things in the strangest places.”
“Yes, aren’t you?” Alasdair agreed, as Julianna led them all down the stairs.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning Julianna sat across from Mr. Harte and Lady Linville in the family parlor.
“So you see, Papa”—Julianna hesitated a moment—“Stepmother, I seem to have gotten in over my head with the foundling home.”
The baroness looked taken aback for a moment at Julianna’s use of the familiar form of address, but she seemed quite pleased. Her father did not look pleased at all.
“Juli-anna,” he said, her name stretched out into two distinct syllables. “How did you expect to come up with the money to pay the rent? Why did you not come to us before this?”
Julianna licked her lips nervously. This was the tricky part. She’d always had trouble getting a lie past her father. She had decided not to tell them about the pearl. Given Papa’s past, any association with a stolen heirloom pearl could prove disastrous. And now there was the baroness to consider. What if her father was seen going to visit Blackman? What if people assumed he was back at his old trade, and the theft was attributed to him? It was true that he had not been discovered in all the years that he’d successfully practiced his trade, but that was no guarantee that he wouldn’t be unmasked now. It would surely damage the baroness’s reputation, and Julianna would not like to cause her new stepmother pain or humiliation.
Julianna had taken to watching her father and the baroness together recently and she could see that they made each other happy. Her father had waited a very long time to be happy again. She wasn’t willing to be the one to ruin that for him after all he’d done for her.
The baroness reached over and set a hand on top of her husband’s. “Mr. Harte, I believe that is precisely the problem. Julianna has no idea where to go for funds.” She looked at Julianna. “Isn’t that so, my dear?”
She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Relieved that she had managed to avoid her father’s question, she smiled tentatively at her stepmother.
“If you expect us to help, Julianna, then some changes must be made.”
This time Mr. Harte nodded. “Absolutely. You cannot continue to work with those children. Their parentage is a stain upon your reputation and it does not reflect well upon your stepmother.”
Lady Linville turned to him with wide eyes. “What?”
Without registering the tone of her voice, Mr. Harte patted his wife’s arm reassuringly. “Never fear, my dear. I know how upset you’ve been at Julianna’s insistence on working with those poor children.” He turned to Julianna. “Surely there are more suitable charities for a young lady, as I mentioned last week.”
“Mr. Harte,” the baroness’s icy voice rang out in the room. Julianna had often noted that she really did have a rather imposing voice for such a small woman. “I can think of no more deserving charity than one that serves the needs of ‘those poor children.’ It is not the charitable work Julianna does that I have objected to in the past. It is the location of the home and her insistence on doing much of the work by herself, some of which is unsuitable for an unmarried young lady.” She looked at him with an injured expression. “I cannot believe, sir, that you thought me capable of such petty objections.”
Mr. Harte looked astounded and then chagrined. He grabbed the baroness’s hand and held it in both of his. “My dear, I am sorry. I was wrong to assume that that was your objection. I should have listened more carefully.” He kissed her hand. “I should have known, Miranda, that you would feel sympathy for the children.” He shook his head, truly contrite. “I am sorry.”
She wrapped both her hands around his. “No, my dear, I am sorry for not making my objections clearer. I know that I can be cool at times, and that tendency often hides my true feelings. As you know, I am working on it.” She smiled tenderly at him, and Julianna was forcefully reminded that they were still in the first flush of their marriage. Still newly wedded and freshly bedded. She blushed as the old saying ran through her head. This was her father, for heaven’s sake.
Noticing Julianna’s embarrassment, Lady Linville coughed and pulled her hands away and smoothed out her skirt while Mr. Harte watched her with a besotted grin on his face. Julianna had trouble believing that she had ever thought their relationship a marriage of convenience. Her father was clearly in love. How could she have missed it?
“Julianna, we shall be glad to assist you in finding new lodgings for the home, and a reliable couple to help Mrs. Eden handle the day-to-day affairs. I believe having a man around the home regularly should be the first safety measure implemented. Don’t you agree? And I will be happy to sponsor you and help you seek patrons for the home. But you must move the children to a safer area, please?” The baroness was actually asking, not ordering. Julianna realized that Mr. Wainwright was correct. When one needed help, all one had to do was ask. Amazing. Whoever would have thought such a thing?
Julianna smiled with relief. “Of course, Stepmother. Where I am safe, the children are safe. I am going to do things differently this time. This time I shall do them right.”
* * *
When Julianna entered the de Tournay patisserie again that afternoon, with Tessa in tow, she spotted Mr. Wiley immediately. Her footman had brought him her message in the morning and Julianna had feared that he wouldn’t show. But she should have known he would. He was just like that. He looked terribly uncomfortable sitting at one of the tables.
Miss de Tournay was frowning at him when Julianna walked in. Her face broke into a smile. “Miss Harte! Bonjour! Back so soon? More treats for les bébés?”
Julianna shook her head and pointed to Mr. Wiley. “No, thank you, Miss de Tournay. I am here to meet with Mr. Wiley.” She turned to Tessa. “Please wait for me here, Tessa.”
Tessa looked askance at Mr. Wiley, but nodded reluctantly. “Yes, miss.”
Miss de Tournay’s expression matched Tessa’s. “This is perhaps not so wise, Miss Harte,” she murmured for Julianna’s ears only. “He is not suitable, non? And you do not want your Mr. Sharp to find out.”
Julianna was taken aback. “My Mr. Sharp?” she exclaimed. How on earth did Miss de Tournay know that?
She looked at Julianna and grinned. “Oui, I have eyes, yes? I saw the way he looked at you.” She sighed dramatically. “Très bon, that man, hmm?” Julianna frowned and Miss de Tournay laughed. “But he only has eyes for you. Anyone could see that.” She frowned at Mr. Wiley, who had seen Julianna and was standing now, frowning right back. “This one, he is no Mr. Sharp.” She shrugged. “He has something, yes, but he is not right for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” Julianna had always liked Miss de Tournay, but between her comments about Alasdair and her attitude about Mr. Wiley she was quickly changing her mind.
Miss de Tournay looked at her with a sad, world-weary expression. “A lady, non? This boy is handsome, but he is no gentleman. Mr. Sharp is a gentleman. He would make your papa proud and happy. This one? He may make you happy now. But there is no future for you there.”
“He is more of a gentleman than many men I know who claim the title,” Julianna said, raising an imperious eyebrow at Miss de Tournay. “But to set your mind at ease, it is Mr. Sharp we will be discussing.”
Miss de Tournay surprised her by taking her hand. “I have lived, Miss Harte, through troubled times. I did not mean to insult your friend. But I also do not want you to throw away a chance at happiness. Be careful.”
Julianna squeezed her hand gratefully. “That is just what I am trying not to do, Miss de Tournay. Mr. Wiley is here to help me find that happiness with Mr. Sharp.” She gave Mr. Wiley a reassuring smile before turning back to Miss de Tournay. “But please don’t tell anyone about this, just for now. It will be all right in the end, I promise.”
After giving her a searching look, Miss de Tournay nodded. “Oui, I keep your secret for now.” She ushered Julianna away from Mr. Wiley. “But you cannot sit in the middle of the shop with him. This would be noted by too many. Come.” She took Julianna through a curtain in the back, into an empty room with a few tables scattered here and there. “I will bring him here. And some pastries, non?” She smiled wickedly. “You cannot plot to seduce your Mr. Sharp without pastry.”
