The Devil's Thief, page 5
Alasdair had never met Hil’s family and knew very little of his past, which was highly unusual in the circles in which they both moved. Hil was rather vague on the subject, and society loved the mystery of it all. Society loved everything about the eccentric Sir Hilary St. John.
“Now, about this woman you seek,” Hil said, returning his focus to Alasdair’s request. “Tell me.”
Alasdair sat down on the sofa, and Hil took the seat next to him, leaning back, quite relaxed. His look was politely interested as he smiled at Alasdair. Though he looked as though he hadn’t a care in the world, Alasdair wasn’t fooled. Hil missed nothing. He was brilliant, sharp, and insightful. He could dissemble any scene or event, or person for that matter, with the precision of an artist. Along with Hil’s useful connections, it was the very reason why Alasdair had sought him out today. Hil was involved in all manner of investments and projects with a wide variety of people in the city, some rather questionable. Alasdair gave Roger a meaningful glance, unsure of whether he wanted to involve him.
“Shall I leave?” Roger asked, but clearly he had no intention to do so, as he moved over and sat in the chair opposite Alasdair and Hil. He settled in and sipped his tea, looking all too comfortable.
“No,” Alasdair answered, “don’t bother.”
“Oh, good.” Roger sent him a delighted smile. “I’ve been a little bored, and this promises to be rather interesting.” He frowned for a moment. “Well, more interesting than anything else at the moment, anyway.”
“So glad I could oblige.” Alasdair let his sarcasm show.
“Is it a particular woman,” Hil interrupted, “or will any one do?”
Hil’s question brought the whole situation back into stark focus, and Alasdair planted his elbows on his knees and dropped his forehead into his palms, despair overriding all else for the moment.
“Oh, this does look bad,” Roger said. He sounded almost gleeful. “I’d venture to say it’s a particular woman.”
Alasdair turned his head and glared at him.
“What?” Roger asked innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t remember you being so annoying. Did you learn that on the Continent, too?”
“No, I’ve always been that way.”
“He is more annoying.” Hil sighed. He reached over the arm of the sofa for his cup of tea while Roger tried to look innocent, neither denying nor confirming his accusation.
“I thought we were discussing his woman,” Roger said, pointing at Alasdair.
Alasdair sighed. “Actually, we do need to discuss her. Time is of the essence, I fear.”
Hil looked at him with concern. “I’m sorry, Sharp. I didn’t realize. And here we’ve been wasting that very commodity. Who is she? And why do you need to find her?”
“God knows I wish I didn’t have to tell anyone about my colossal stupidity, but it’s necessary.”
“I exist merely to enjoy the colossal stupidity of others.” Roger sounded amused, but also concerned. Typical Roger. He was a walking contradiction most of the time.
“It all started last night,” Alasdair began slowly, not sure how much he wanted to tell them.
Roger nodded wisely. “Yes, that’s usually how it starts.”
“Yes, well my tale is an old one,” Alasdair said with a snort. “The short version is, I caught a thief in my bedroom, she turned out to be a very intriguing woman, I relieved her of her virginity, and this morning I awoke to discover she had relieved me of the Stewart Pearl.”
Roger sat forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Good God, man! There was a virgin left in London?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Alasdair had to laugh. He remembered all the times Roger had made him laugh when they were younger, when laughing was the last thing he thought he’d ever do again. How foolish and trite his youthful dramas seemed now. “Yes, believe it or not. And now, alas, she is no more.”
Roger smiled in commiseration. “Well, at least you had the pleasure.”
A memory of Juliet coming apart in his arms flared as bright as the morning sun. “Yes,” he murmured, lost in the image. He shook his head to see Hil watching him with those all-seeing eyes, his head tipped to the side. Alasdair cleared his throat. “But pleasure is fleeting. The humiliation of losing the pearl will last forever.”
Roger winced. “There is that.”
Hil’s leg started to twitch, a habit Alasdair remembered from school. It meant he was thinking. Hard. Then he nodded at Alasdair and summed up the pertinent facts. “So the situation is thus: We must find the woman before she has a chance to sell the pearl. And you must make restitution for what you’ve taken from her.”
Yes, well, Alasdair had been studiously avoiding thinking about that last part.
“Well, that seems simple enough.” Roger clapped his hands on his knees in preparation for standing. “We shall simply pay a call on her and demand the pearl back. And in return Alasdair will refrain from turning her over to the authorities.”
“I believe Sharp said he needed help finding the woman. The ‘finding’ presents a problem, I presume?” As usual Hil had a firm grasp of the facts.
“Yes, well, that does seem to be the problem,” Alasdair hedged.
“Has she flown the coop, then?” Roger asked. “Have you already tried to see her?”
Alasdair cleared his throat nervously.
A slow smile spread across Hil’s face. “By chance, do you know where to begin looking?”
“Um, no.” Alasdair offered no explanation, but he could tell that even Roger was beginning to catch on.
“Good God, do you even know her name?” Roger asked incredulously.
“She said it was Juliet.”
“And she called you Romeo?”
Alasdair blushed. “Not exactly … But she did quote the play at length.” Roger hooted with laughter, and Alasdair could feel his face burn with humiliation.
“Hmm,” Hil said as he leaned back and laid his arm along the back of the sofa. He was the picture of composure. “It’s too bad we don’t have a dead body. She didn’t kill anyone while stealing the pearl, did she?”
“What?” Alasdair asked in horror. “Of course not! Why?”
“Too bad. I know a man in Bow Street who is quite adept at gleaning clues from corpses.”
Roger shivered. “That is gruesome, and highly disturbing.” He turned to Alasdair. “So she quoted Shakespeare? Odd for a common thief.”
“That is as good a place to start as any,” Hil said with renewed interest. “What else did she tell you?” He waved impatiently at Roger. “Go over to the desk and write down whatever clues Sharp can remember.”
Roger’s face took on a martyred expression, but he rose to do Hil’s bidding. “Why do I have to play secretary?”
“Because your handwriting is meticulous. And it gives you something to do besides torment poor Sharp.”
Alasdair groaned. “Oh Lord, that’s it, isn’t it? I shall be ‘poor Sharp’ forevermore. The idiot who was duped by a lying little cat.”
“Virgin cat,” Roger called out over his shoulder as he walked to the desk. “I’m writing that down as well. That actually tells us a great deal about her.”
“Very good, Roger,” Hil said. “It does indeed. But in the sum of all the clues we can enumerate will be the answer we seek.”
Alasdair looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“Once we piece together all the clues, we shall be able to find her,” Hil explained patiently. “Now, tell us more about your little thief, Sharp.”
Alasdair described Juliet to the best of his ability—her height, weight, figure, and coloring.
“How could you not know the color of her eyes?” Roger asked in consternation. “Did you not take her from the front?”
Alasdair was struck with unexpected anger at Roger’s question, finding it far more intrusive and personal than he ought to. They had discussed their conquests in such terms in the past. He forced the anger down. “That wasn’t it. It was quite dark last night, and we never lit a candle. I think they were dark, probably brown. But I can’t be sure.”
“Can you give us a better description of her face?” Hil urged him.
Alasdair shook his head in frustrated defeat. “Again, no. I have a vague impression of wide eyes and a pert nose.” He closed his eyes and imagined the feel of her face against his fingertips. “I think she had rather a square jaw, but not masculine. It was delicate, and led to sharp cheekbones. And she had a stubborn chin.”
He opened his eyes to see Hil smiling at him in encouragement. “Very good. What else? Close your eyes again and think about her.”
Alasdair did as his friend asked, and a series of impressions of Juliet ran through his head. “She seemed delicate everywhere—small shoulders, wrists that I could hold in one hand—but her arms and legs were long.” He leaned back with a sigh and rubbed his hand along his thigh, remembering her touch. “Her hands were soft, with long, elegant fingers.” He laid his head along the back of the sofa, his eyes still closed. He opened and closed his fist, as he had done in her hair last night. “Her hair was long, thick and soft and waving.” He took a deep breath. “And it smelled of lavender.”
“Good,” Hil said so quietly it barely intruded on Alasdair’s thoughts. “Tell us more.”
Alasdair licked his lips and could almost feel hers against them. He touched his lower lip with his index finger. “Her mouth was full, with a larger lower lip. It was …” He hesitated a moment, but continued with his description because he knew Hil and Roger would know what he meant. “It was bitable. And so soft.” He could feel his stubble just under his lip. He’d have to speak to his valet about that. “Her skin was just as soft and sweet smelling, like flowers. I’m sure my beard left a mark when I kissed her.” He thought of those kisses. “Her breath was fresh, and she had sharp little teeth that gleamed in the moonlight when she smiled, like a cat.” He could hear the almost dreamy quality of his voice, but he was not being self-indulgent—or at least not just self-indulgent. It was necessary for him to remember as much as he could so that they could find her. They had to find her.
Wait, that didn’t sound right. No, the pearl. They had to find the pearl. He opened his eyes only to find Roger and Hil staring at him with identical expressions. “What?”
Roger jerked as if he had been disturbed from a reverie. “What? Nothing.” He shook his head and wrote something down. “That’s very good. I’m sure we shall be able to narrow our search.” He and Hil shared a look, after which Hil nodded. “Yes, indeed.” Roger’s tone was bland, too bland.
“What?” Alasdair asked suspiciously.
Hil tapped his finger on his chin. “We have a young, attractive woman, clean, well groomed, with soft hands that have never known work, a virgin who can quote Shakespeare at length. Do you know anyone like that?”
Alasdair rose from the sofa and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I know a hundred women who fit that description! The drawing rooms of Mayfair are full of them.”
“Exactly.”
Roger fell back in his chair. “I’ll be damned.”
Alasdair went still. “What are you saying, Hil?”
“This is no ordinary thief, Sharp. I believe the woman you seek is a gentlewoman, quite probably someone you’ve met before.”
“She reminded me of someone. And she knew my name.” He hadn’t even considered the ramifications of that. She’d known his name, and she’d obviously known about the pearl. It was the reason she had come to his room last night. “She came specifically for the pearl. She took nothing else.”
“The existence and location of the pearl is hardly a secret,” Roger argued. “Anyone in London could have found that information. And certainly a well-versed thief would be able to act the part of a gentlewoman.”
Alasdair expelled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Of course, of course that’s what she did. I’m sure no young woman of my acquaintance is a criminal.”
Hil shrugged negligently. “The woman you described does not sound like a criminal, Sharp. I’m sorry if you do not wish to believe a true gentlewoman would stoop to steal your pearl, but I am quite convinced that is exactly what happened.”
“She said she needed the money to pay the rent,” Alasdair argued. “What gentlewoman is in such dire need?”
Roger laughed mirthlessly. “I’m afraid more than we know, Sharp. No one in society likes to admit falling on hard times, but it happens often enough for it to be considered a possibility.”
Alasdair turned to him with a frown. “I thought you were on my side.”
“We are both on your side, Sharp. I am merely trying to see it from all sides.”
Alasdair took several deep breaths and nodded. “You’re right of course. I’m sorry.” He nodded again, as if to convince himself. “It could be a gentlewoman of my acquaintance.” He looked grimly at Hil. “But I sincerely doubt it.”
“What else did she tell you?” Hil asked. “Besides why she needed the money.”
Alasdair began to pace as he thought back on the conversation they’d had right before he fell asleep. “She said her mother died when she was young, and her father had recently remarried, but that it wasn’t turning out as he had planned.”
“Excellent!” Hil exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “That will be very useful in narrowing our search. What else?”
Alasdair wrinkled his brow as he thought hard. Their conversation was overshadowed in his mind by the physical intimacy they had shared. “She said her father thought she hung the moon and stars and would not be happy were he to find out how she spent the evening.”
Roger snorted. “I should think not.”
“That might mean she didn’t learn her dubious trade from her father,” Hil said. “But then who educated her in the art of burglary?”
“She wasn’t a very good thief,” Alasdair observed. “I did catch her, after all.”
“Good point. And how did you catch her?” Roger asked.
“I heard a noise, and when I looked over, there she was silhouetted perfectly in the moonlight against the back wall of my bedroom.”
“And you called out, ‘Stop, thief!’ ”
Alasdair laughed. “No, I told her not to move unless she wished to be shot.”
Hil gave him a curious look. “You had a gun?”
“Yes. Brightmeyer made some threats the other night when he found me in bed with Hosea.”
Hil shook his head, while Roger thumped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Why on earth would you tup Brightmeyer’s doxy?” Roger exclaimed. “Everyone knows he is so jealous of her he can no longer think straight. Even I know that, and I’ve only just returned to London.”
Alasdair really had no answer. It had just … happened. He shrugged. “She made herself available and I had nothing better to do that evening.”
Roger just looked at him with wide eyes, as if he were speaking a foreign tongue.
“Was she at least worth it?”
Alasdair scratched his jaw as he considered the question. Honestly, he remembered little about their tryst. He was relatively sure he’d hit his mark, but that was the highest praise he could give. “Not really. I was expecting more, given the level of Brightmeyer’s jealousy.”
“Not like your experience with your little thief last night, eh?” Hil asked nonchalantly.
Alasdair didn’t even want the two women mentioned in the same conversation. Juliet was nothing like Hosea. He shook his head. “I have never before experienced anything like it,” he told Hil firmly, “and I doubt I ever will again.” Truly, it was like a dream. If his pearl hadn’t been missing this morning, he might have dismissed the whole evening as such.
Hil smiled briefly. “No. No, I don’t suppose you have. Well, there is no need to turn her over to the authorities when we find her. It doesn’t sound as if she makes a habit of this sort of thing.”
“She did steal his pearl, Hil,” Roger said as he stood up, holding the paper on which he’d scrawled their clues.
“Not exactly,” Alasdair confessed. He hadn’t planned on admitting this, but he didn’t want Hil and Roger to think the worst of Juliet.
Both men stopped and looked at him, Hil with interest, and Roger with narrowed eyes.
“There’s that ‘not exactly’ again,” Roger said. “What exactly do you mean by it?”
Alasdair sighed. “I may have, in a moment of pure, unadulterated stupidity, promised her the pearl in exchange for one night in my bed.”
Roger barked with laughter. “Poor Sharp! And she accepted this bargain, did she? It was certainly well made on her part.”
“I didn’t mean it,” Alasdair bit out, “and I certainly never expected her to do it. Clearly I was mistaken, and quite misguided.”
Hil was shaking his head and Alasdair felt like a schoolboy, standing before his headmaster awaiting a scold. “That was not well done of you,” Hil said gravely.
“Well excuse me for thinking that I needn’t take the moral high ground with a thief who crept into my bedchamber in the middle of the night.” Alasdair sounded defensive. He didn’t like being put in that position. “I had planned on taking care of her,” he said more calmly. “I was going to offer her carte blanche in the morning. I wanted to make her my mistress, buy her a house, take care of her. She never gave me the chance.”
“We must make our own chances,” Roger said. He was uncharacteristically somber. “You should have told her if that’s what you wanted.” He sighed, and stood there looking out the window for a moment. Then he looked back at Alasdair. “Is that still what you want? I’m not sure I’m willing to help you find her otherwise. She didn’t take anything that didn’t rightfully belong to her.”
Hil was watching him, the same question written on his face. Alasdair shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what I want. Yes, I want to find Juliet.” He stared hard at the other men in turn. “But I must get the pearl back. It means something. It is a true legend among the Scots and even here in England. But more than that it is my legacy, my mother’s legacy, and the pride of my family is at stake. I cannot be the one responsible for losing it, even if it was my own folly that caused its loss. No matter who she is or what I want from her, the pearl must come first.”
