The Devil's Thief, page 6
“Of course we must find Juliet, Sharp,” Hil told him confidently. “Only then will we be able to retrieve the pearl. Both your desires shall be accomplished.”
Roger met Alasdair’s stare for a minute before nodding tersely. “Of course, you’re right. The pearl must come first. And then you shall deal with your Juliet.”
Alasdair smiled grimly, his anger still simmering. “I shall deal with Juliet, Roger. Never fear.”
Chapter Seven
Julianna stepped tentatively into the receiver’s shop. She hadn’t the nerve to visit the rougher shops her father had spoken of, so she’d come to this one, which was actually a rather respectable-looking shop that sold curiosities. It would likely be harder to sell the stolen pearl here. Of course, a fair share of the merchandise was stolen. Julianna was quite sure that the well-to-do patrons who were browsing the shelves had no idea, although perhaps they did. Perhaps they knew and simply didn’t care, so long as the things hadn’t been stolen from them.
Julianna silently scolded herself. She was in a melancholy mood, and that wouldn’t do at all. She had done it. The Stewart Pearl was in her possession, and when she sold it she’d have enough money to pay the rent for the foundling home, and probably quite a bit more. There would be no more scrambling for funds for food and other essentials for the immediate future. The children could even have new clothes! She remembered her own childhood, the constant uncertainty about where she would be getting her next meal and where she would sleep each night. In spite of her father’s efforts, she’d lived with those fears daily. She’d started the home so that she could protect the children from feeling the way she once had. There was no reason to feel guilty or heartbroken about what she’d done. Alasdair didn’t need the pearl, did he? And she did. It was that simple.
She sighed as she stopped at the counter and waited for the proprietor to finish with a patron. No matter how many times she gave herself that speech, it still didn’t ring true. She had stolen a priceless family heirloom from a man she admired, and possibly even cared for. A man who was impossibly out of her reach and completely uninterested in the real her. Because his Juliet was a much more daring and alluring woman than Julianna was. Her head hurt just thinking about it.
What she needed to remember was that if Alasdair found out who she was, he would likely have her thrown in the tower. Was that what they did to gently-reared thieves? She began to feel a little light-headed. Perhaps the magistrate wouldn’t care that she’d been gently reared. She was a fallen woman, after all. Oh, God. Would Alasdair tell them that when he reported the theft? Would he reveal her perfidy, her ruination?
“Miss?” Julianna turned toward the concerned voice and found herself facing a nattily dressed older gentleman. He had thick, white hair, kind blue eyes, and very expensive taste judging from his outfit. “Are you all right? Shall I fetch a chair for you?”
Julianna quickly shook her head, but a bout of sudden weakness hit her and she had to grab on to the gentleman’s arm. “Yes, perhaps you should,” she answered with a tremor in her voice.
A small, delicate gilt chair, its round seat cushion embroidered with roses, was immediately brought around for her. She sank down gratefully in the seat and closed her eyes for a moment, blocking out the worried faces that surrounded her. Surely Alasdair would not humiliate her that way. They had shared something wild and beautiful. He wouldn’t sully it by besmirching her reputation. Guilt stabbed at her. But she had ruined it, hadn’t she, when she had taken the pearl?
She sat up straighter. So be it. If he chose to bandy their intimate secrets about the streets of London then there was naught she could do about it. No one would know it was her. And she would know he was without honor and unworthy of her concern. There! So much for Alasdair Sharp, she thought fiercely. I will do what I must, and he can do what he must. She opened her eyes with a new determination, and noted the relief on the kindly gentleman’s face.
“All better, miss?” he asked with a smile.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” Julianna reassured him. She stood and adjusted her bonnet with steady hands. “I’m afraid I was overcome by the heat.”
He cast a dubious glance out at the rather brisk spring day and Julianna blushed, berating herself for her stupidity. But she refused to acknowledge her obvious lie. Her father had taught her that if you acted as if a lie were the truth, then those around you might begin to believe it, too.
“Of course,” he said, regaining his composure and handing the chair off to a shop assistant. “Is there something I can help you with today?” He was kindness itself, but Julianna recognized the look in his eyes as he discreetly studied her expensive, fashionable clothes and tasteful jewelry.
Julianna straightened her gloves while she looked about the room. There were only two other patrons, a man and a woman, and they were busy surveying some porcelain in the far corner of the shop. She took the slightest step toward the shopkeeper before she answered him in a low voice. “My name is Julianna Harte, and I hope you can help me with an unexpected inheritance.” Julianna held her breath. She had heard the name of the shop from her father several years ago, and she was hoping that this gentleman might recognize her surname.
By the gleam in his eye she could tell he did. “Of course, Miss Harte,” he said quietly. “I believe I may be acquainted with your father?”
Julianna nodded with a relieved smile. “Yes, I believe so.”
He took Julianna’s elbow and steered her toward a door in the back of the shop. “Let me take you to my wife,” he said loudly, clearly for the benefit of the other patrons. “She can show you a place to rest while we wait for your carriage.”
“Thank you so much,” Julianna said breathlessly, her performance more than convincing. She was used to acting—she’d played more than her fair share of roles over the course of her untraditional childhood, protecting her father or helping him maneuver his latest ladylove into an assignation.
He smiled as he led her through the door. “If you’ll just take a seat in the office, I’ll be with you shortly,” he said sotto voice, and closed the door behind her.
Julianna jumped when a woman seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Right this way, Miss,” she murmured with a polite smile, and gestured toward a small, cramped office, filled with a large desk and an eccentric collection of curiosities.
“Good heavens,” Julianna said with a start, staring in horror. “Is that a skull?”
The woman’s smile grew, and Julianna was unsettled by the look on her face. “Yes. Isn’t it lovely? A gentleman just brought it back from Africa for us.” She picked it up and pointed at a large hole in the side of the skull. “We’re not sure if he took a spear through the head or if they pulled his brains out through there.”
Julianna shuddered and recoiled and the woman laughed. She put the skull down, and as she was leaving, she said over her shoulder, “Have a seat, dear. My husband will be in shortly.” She stopped and turned around to eye Julianna curiously. “You must have something that is worth a good bit. He doesn’t work much out of the backroom anymore.”
Julianna gave her a look, and after a moment the woman shrugged. “You needn’t tell me. If he buys it, I’ll find out soon enough.” With those words she turned and disappeared as stealthily as she’d appeared. Julianna scooted her chair as far from the skull as she could, until she was almost sitting in the narrow, dimly lit passageway.
She placed her reticule in her lap, and she could feel the heavily wrapped pearl inside. With each passing minute that she waited, the bundle became heavier, burning right through the layers of her skirts until she was again awash with guilt.
She felt a great deal of relief when, through the thin walls of the shop, she heard the faint sound of the front door open and close. Within minutes, the proprietor returned to the office.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Harte,” he said smoothly, as if she were an esteemed patron. “How may I help you today?” He sat down across from her, offering her an encouraging smile. “I haven’t received any items from your father for some time. I assumed with his recent marriage that he was retiring from his former business.”
Julianna gulped nervously. “Yes, well, this isn’t from my father,” she said firmly, covering her uneasiness with bravado.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “No?” His voice was still pleasant but his features looked just a bit sharper, or so Julianna thought.
She shook her head. “No. You see, he doesn’t know that I’ve … I’ve taken up the family business.”
This time his eyes sparked with amusement. “May you find it very lucrative,” he responded with a smile. He pointed to her reticule. “Is your inheritance in there? May I see it?” He rubbed his hands together. “Let us see if we shall do this business together.”
“Oh, yes,” Julianna said, as she fumbled to get the pearl out. He watched avidly as she began to unwrap it in her lap.
“Your father always brought me very fine pieces,” he told her. “He has an excellent eye.”
Julianna smiled up at him. “Yes, he does, thank you.” She finished unwrapping the pearl and held it up between her thumb and forefinger.
“Damn me,” he muttered, as he tilted his head to look at the pearl. “It must be at least forty grains. I’ve never seen the like.” He reached for it and Julianna handed it over with a slight hesitation. He laughed. “Don’t worry, Miss Harte, I shall return it. To do otherwise would not be advantageous for business.”
He gently rolled it around on his palm, then whistled. “It’s very nearly perfect.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Where did you get it? There are very few of its kind.”
“It took a bit of work, I assure you. The Stewart Pearl did not come cheaply.”
He nearly dropped the pearl, then he thrust it back into her hands. “The Stewart Pearl? You foolish girl.” He was angry, and stood to pace his office in agitation. “I cannot sell it. It is useless to me. I’d wager that the authorities are seeking it even now.” He shook his head. “What were you thinking? A pearl as distinct as this one would be recognized immediately if I were to put it out in my shop. And I do not have private customers who would buy it, either. They want to show off their treasures.”
Julianna’s heart sank. It was just as her father had predicted. “But, are you sure? There must be some collector who would be willing to pay for it. Please, you must buy it from me.”
He shook his head. “No, my dear, I cannot.” He waved at the pearl in her hand. “Wrap it up, if you please. I have no wish for someone to walk in on us and discover the Stewart Pearl in my office.” He walked over to peer out the door into the deserted passageway, waving at her impatiently behind his back. “Hurry now.”
Julianna rewrapped the gleaming pearl, disappointment weighing her down. She put it back in her reticule, and the receiver nodded in approval as he watched her tighten the strings about the opening. “Very good.” He grabbed her by the upper arm and gently but insistently pulled her from the chair and out into the passageway. “You need to leave immediately. No one followed you here, did they?”
“No!” Julianna said in alarm. “No one knows I stole the pearl.”
He winced. “We do not refer to the retrieval of objects as ‘stealing,’ my girl. That is just asking for trouble.” He opened the door to the shop just a crack, holding his finger to his lips to indicate that she should be quiet. After a moment he opened the door wider and ushered her through. He led her across the now empty store so quickly that she needed to run to keep up. “You should talk with your father about what is and isn’t appropriate in this line of work, Miss Harte. Until you do, I do not think we shall be doing any business together.”
They’d arrived at the shop door, he opened it, and with a smile and a slight bow he pushed her out onto the street. The door closed in her face with a resounding thud, and she heard a lock turn as a little sign reading CLOSED appeared in the window.
“Well!” Julianna had been rushed out of the shop so fast she was out of breath. The sign in the window was a not-so-very-subtle message that she should think twice before returning. She turned and held her hands to her flushed cheeks for a moment while she considered her options. She was embarrassed over her naïveté, and quite mortified that she had been scolded by a criminal. She ignored the hypocrisy of her feelings. She was not a criminal. It wasn’t as if she was planning on embarking on a life of crime. Truly, this was the first and last time she would ever resort to it. And drat it, the man hadn’t even given her time to ask him for the name of another receiver.
“Miss?” her maid, Tessa, inquired. Julianna had instructed the younger girl to wait right outside the door, and now her eyes were wide with surprise. “Are you all right?” She was looking behind Julianna at the closed door.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Julianna told her, straightening her shoulders. “Come on, then.” Tessa fell into step behind her as she walked aimlessly for a quarter of an hour. Normally she was able to leave Tessa at home when she was on business for the foundling home, but her nerves were still on edge after last night, and at the last minute she’d grabbed the timid girl and brought her. Now, of course, she was wishing she hadn’t, since her simple plan had not worked out.
As she walked she was trying to work up the courage to follow through on her contingency plan. She hadn’t been privy to much of her father’s business. He had always tried to shield her from his transactions. As a result, she couldn’t think of any other respectable receivers. The logical solution was to pay a visit to the most unsavory ones. She needed to be rid of the pearl as soon as possible, so it was time to do business with one of the unscrupulous receivers her father had told her about at breakfast. She stopped on the pavement, vaguely aware that other pedestrians were walking around her. The Black Rose in Tottenham Court Road. Yes, that was it. The Black Rose.
She walked to the corner to hail a hackney. As the carriage pulled up, she looked at the horse. The Black Horse. Yes, of course—it was the Black Horse, not the Black Rose. She’d better get her wits about her if she hoped to be successful today. If all went well, she would be able to sell the infernal pearl that was burning a hole through her reticule and her conscience. She gave her direction to the driver.
“Are you sure, miss?” he asked skeptically. “The Black Horse, Tottenham Court? That’s no place for a respectable lady.”
“Yes, well, I have business to attend there,” she replied briskly, inwardly quaking. “My maid will accompany me. Will you be able to wait for us?”
He nodded cautiously. “For a bit, but not too long. Can you pay me for it?”
Julianna reared back in shock. She’d never been asked that before in her life. No one questioned the solvency of well-bred young ladies. “Of course I can pay,” she said sharply. “Why would you ask?”
The driver shrugged. “This business sounds dodgy, miss. I’ve got me own family to think about, after all.”
Julianna took a deep breath. “Of course, I’m sorry. Yes, I can pay your fare, never fear. Will you take us? And wait outside?”
He nodded. “Yes, miss.”
“Thank you.” She climbed inside—Tessa a silent, frightened, disapproving presence beside her. Now that she had embarked on this most dangerous scheme, she was actually glad for the presence of a familiar face, even one as unhappy as Tessa’s, at the moment. Julianna clasped her hands in her lap as the carriage jerked and moved into traffic.
The ride down Oxford Street was comforting and familiar. But when the carriage turned on Tottenham Court Road, Julianna felt her stomach lurch. What did she think she was doing? She was decidedly ill equipped to deal with a hardened criminal, and the receiver no doubt fit that description. She’d heard tales of women who had met with awful fates at places like the Black Horse. Her poor father would never know what had become of her. She would become naught but a few lines in the Times: “Miss Julianna Harte, spinster, missing. Last seen in London, Bond Street, Friday, June 6, 1817. Whereabouts unknown.” Poor Tessa would hardly get a mention.
She wondered idly if Alasdair Sharp would care, and then remembered that he didn’t know her real name. She felt a stab of regret—he wouldn’t even know to mourn her.
On the verge of ordering the driver to turn around, Julianna was surprised when he rolled to a stop in front of a rather nondescript building on the main thoroughfare. She’d imagined that a disreputable receiver’s shop would be on the darkest and most sinister side street possible. This building was gilded in afternoon sunlight, and a small group of people, men and women alike, idled about the entryway.
The driver climbed down and opened the door, holding up his hand for her. As she emerged, the noise of the group tapered off. She looked around nervously, and noticed that they were much younger than she had expected—boys and girls rather than men and women. They were all dressed in shabby clothes that were far too mature for them.
“What ya doin’ ’ere, Miss Fine?” one of the girls called out. “Got lost on the way to Almacks?” The rest of the youths laughed uproariously, as if she’d made the greatest joke they’d ever heard.
Julianna raised her chin in an effort to disguise its quivering. “I have business here. This is the Black Horse, is it not?”
“ ‘Is it not?’ ” the same girl mimicked, eliciting more laughter. She was clearly the ape leader among them.
“The lady has business,” the driver called out sharply, as he helped Tessa from the carriage, too. “Blackman won’t be happy to hear you’ve driven her away before she could see him.”
