Read Lady Lightfingers Online

Authors: Janet Woods

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #History, #Historical, #Romance, #Love Stories, #Pickpockets, #England, #Aunts, #London (England), #Theft, #London, #Crime, #Poor Women, #19th Century

Lady Lightfingers (10 page)

BOOK: Lady Lightfingers
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‘His calling card was in it.'
A grey-haired woman appeared, smiling when she saw Lottie. ‘You're a pretty one.' She drew them inside. ‘Have you found the master's card case? He'll be pleased, and so will his mother, since it was a gift from her for his birthday and she's been chewing his ear off about its loss. She'll want to see you, to thank you and reward you personally, you know. Would you hand the case to me?'
Celia couldn't do anything else but appear willing, though she was loath to part with it. ‘I can't stay long, my brother is waiting outside for us.'
The woman went off and came back in a few moments. ‘Mrs Curtis will see you now. Leave the child here. Ada will give her some oatmeal and milk. And give the lad in the street a chunk of bread with an egg and some bacon on, Ada, but don't let him in, since he looks like a bit of a villain to me. Make one for the girl to take away with her, too. The master likes us to be charitable to those less fortunate.'
A few minutes later Celia was being shown into a dining room, where an elegant woman in a grey silk gown was seated at the table. A maid stood by a buffet, waiting to serve her, and a second place was set at the table.
‘What's your name, girl?'
She thought fast. ‘Lizzie Carter.'
‘I believe you found my son's card case.'
‘That's the truth of it, My Lady.'
‘Where exactly did you find it?'
She wasn't going to tell her that her son was in the slums seeking excitement of the more basic kind, so she picked a more likely spot where a toff might have dropped it. ‘It was on Rotten Row in Hyde Park, on the ground.' Her sense of drama came alive, along with the tale. ‘I had to dash under the hooves of the horses to rescue it. But when I looked up the man who'd dropped it was gone. That was quite a while ago now.'
‘Why didn't you bring it to me sooner?'
Celia lowered her voice, and it wasn't hard to look teary-eyed at the thought she voiced. ‘My mother died, and I had her funeral to see to, and my little sister to look after, My Lady.'
‘I do not have a title. You should address me as Mrs Curtis.'
‘I'm sorry, Mrs Curtis. I was mistaken, because you look and talk like a proper lady to me.'
The woman looked sceptical at first, but then a gracious smile appeared on her face, as though she'd decided to act the part on the strength of the remark. ‘I suppose someone in your position might think so. I imagine you are after some recompense, since you haven't got much by the looks of you.'
‘A reward would be kind, and most generous.'
‘Do stop trying to put ideas in my head, girl; I didn't say it would be generous. Nevertheless, it was an expensive case and you need to be rewarded for your honesty. My son will be down in a minute. I'll leave him to deal with you.'
Her son!
‘But I thought—'
The door opened and the young man she'd filched the case from strolled in. His dark eyes riveted on her and he seemed rooted to the spot for a moment. Far from being self-assured a blush blossomed in his cheeks and he stammered, ‘What are you doing here?'
His mother stared at him. ‘Am I to take it that you know this young woman, Charles?'
‘We've never met . . . well, we might've done . . . not that I've been at the opera lately, but it might have been at the Lord Mayor's dinner,' Celia said quickly, giving him time to recover.
‘That's enough of your cheek, girl,' the woman said sharply. ‘Charles?'
His elegant nose wrinkled, but there was amusement in his eyes. ‘Really, Mother, does she appear to be the type of young woman I'd enjoy a social relationship with? She looks and smells as though she needs a good bath.'
‘I imagine not,' Mrs Curtis said drily.
He was quick-minded, Celia thought with a grin. She didn't need a bath since she'd had one two days before in the bucket they kept especially for the purpose. She'd filled the bucket herself from the stand pump in the street, and had washed her hair as well, working up a lather with some lavender soap she'd stolen from a street stall. It smelled lovely, and now and again, when she shook her head, the fragrance of it reached her nostrils.
Mrs Curtis rose. ‘Don't be so churlish, Charles. This young woman found your card case on Rotten Row and has kindly returned it. Her honesty deserves rewarding, and I hope her example will teach you to be less careless. After you've suitably recompensed her, you can get on with your breakfast uninterrupted. Don't be too long, dear. I'm going upstairs to ready myself to go out and I need you to accompany me.'
When the door closed after his mother he said, ‘Why did you say you found it on Rotten Row, when you know damned well you lifted it from my pocket?'
‘I didn't think your mother would approve of where you were when your pocket was picked, or what you were doing there.'
He laughed at that. ‘You've got the cheek of the devil, girl. Why did you return it at all?'
‘Since I'm leaving London I thought there might be a reward. I don't need a card case, even a fancy gold one, but I do need money.'
He fumbled in his pocket and came out with a guinea, spinning it in the air. ‘Here, will this do?'
She caught it. ‘Thank you.'
‘Why are you leaving town . . . Where do you intend to go?'
‘It isn't any of your business. Why should what I do matter to you, anyway?'
He shrugged. ‘I might want to see you again.'
Her hands went to her hips. ‘I don't want to see you. I'm leaving town because I have no choice. An
unnamed
gentleman has offered a woman of dubious interests and intent one hundred pounds to procure me for him. Was that you?'
He shrugged and nodded at the same time, though it was more of a squirm.
‘Before she died, I promised my mother I wouldn't enter that kind of profession. Because of you, Bessie Jones now intends to force me into it if she can. So I'm taking my baby sister to the country to see if my aunts will raise her. Then I'll try and find decent employment so I can support us both. Lottie is in the kitchen if you want me to prove that I have a sister.'
Shame came into his eyes. ‘I'm sorry . . . I never thought. I liked you, you see, and I thought Bessie Jones would be able to discover where you lived. I meant you no harm.'
Liking for him sneaked reluctantly into her heart and lodged there; not the least because she'd discovered he had a conscience. That, she could work on. ‘That wasn't the way Bessie put it to me. She said you offered a large amount of money for me to spend a week with you.'
‘I did . . . at her prompting. I intended to teach you a lesson for stealing from me.'
‘How . . . by forcing me to prostitute myself and live in degradation? I only stole to help feed my family. Because I'm poor, that doesn't mean I have loose morals. Besides, I'd never have seen any of the money you were willing to pay Bessie.'
‘That wasn't the reason.' His eyes came alight with mischief. ‘You know, that was very good, appealing to my conscience like that. To be truthful, I found you attractive, and you have gentle hands. I still find you attractive.' He grinned when she blushed. ‘I'm interested in the way you think, too. How large a price would you place on yourself?'
He'd seen right through her and she could have kicked herself. ‘I'm not ready to enter into such relationships. I'm not old enough.'
‘How old are you?'
‘Fifteen . . . almost sixteen.' She didn't know why she'd added that last bit, when it sounded more grown up, and when she'd wanted to appear younger.
‘And I'm twenty-one. What's your name?'
‘Didn't Bessie Jones tell you?'
‘If she had I wouldn't be asking.'
Better that she stuck to the lie she'd created. ‘Lizzie Carter.' She made the ultimate sacrifice to prove she was decent and reluctantly dropped the coin he'd given her on to the table. ‘You can keep this, I must go.'
‘Wait, Lizzie, I don't want you to leave here in anger because of my stupidity. I know you need that money.' One of his elegant hands closed around her wrist when she picked the coin up again. The smile he gave her was irresistible. ‘Let me put an alternative proposition to you. I'll offer you one hundred pounds right now if you'll allow me to kiss you, just once.'
She gasped, and slid him an unbelieving look. ‘That's a fortune.'
‘There's a condition. You must promise to come to me still intact when you think you're old enough . . . when you're eighteen, perhaps. One hundred pounds, Lizzie Carter.'
Her eyes widened and she gasped. ‘Don't be ridiculous.'
He brought a pouch from inside his waistcoat and placed it on the table. ‘The money is inside. I won it on the turn of a card. Buy yourself a new gown.'
‘You would gamble on such a promise from me?'
‘You said you were honest. Prove it to me.'
‘I'm also a liar and a dip. I might prove that to you instead. Keep your money, mister. I don't want to carry a broken promise on my conscience.'
‘Then don't break it, else I'll be disappointed in you.' He gave a soft chuckle.
Taking a card from the gold case she'd just returned to him, he scribbled something on the back and handed it back to her. ‘You can leave a message for me here when you're ready. It's my club.'
She gazed up at him. Only a fool would be willing to part with such a large amount of money. ‘What if I don't turn up?'
‘Then I've paid one hundred pounds for a kiss, so we'd better make it a good one.'
The female in her said, ‘My face is dirty,' and when she wiped her cheeks she simply smeared what was already there, a liberal coating of dirt to help disguise her face, in case she was recognized.
‘I know,' and he laughed. ‘It makes no difference to me.'
He was feckless where money was concerned! But if he didn't care about her face being dirty, why should she? She reached out for the pouch.
‘I'll have the kiss first,' he said, his hand closing over hers. A diamond on his little finger sent out dizzying beams of light.
She gazed up at him, trying not to allow her inexperience to show as she scoffed. ‘Why would you want to kiss me?'
‘Have you looked at yourself in a mirror?'
‘I haven't got a mirror.'
His eyes engaged hers. ‘When you do get one, you'll know why; your mouth is like a ripe peach.' He cupped her chin in his hands and his mouth brushed against hers, as light as a butterfly at first, then as tender as a lamb and as strong as a lion, so her heart began to pound and her breath left her body. Her mouth parted and she tasted an exploring tongue.
There was no fear in her because there was something innately gentle about Charles Curtis. Her body relaxed and she kept perfectly still. Little arrows of pleasure touched her, here and there, inside her skin, as he took his fill. Her mouth responded to his in no uncertain manner.
Just as she decided she enjoyed the caress too much to part with it, the warm, dewy and highly intimate contact became a void as cool air rushed to fill it. After a few seconds to enjoy the last shreds of fading pleasure she opened her eyes to the enigmatic darkness of his, wishing he'd kiss her again because the latent woman inside her had emerged to enjoy several breathtaking moments of desire.
‘Remember it,' he whispered.
She tried to control the fine tremor in her limbs. How could she forget, for her first proper kiss was an introduction to sin. ‘Certainly, I'll remember it, since it cost you so much. You're not going to have me arrested as soon as I leave the house with the money, are you?'
‘No, and I'm willing to wait for you. It will give me something to look forward to while I complete my education. He smiled like an angel as he folded her fingers over the pouch, and then rang a bell. ‘Safe journey; I'll look forward with pleasure to our next encounter, Lizzie Carter.'
A maid appeared. ‘Show this young woman to the kitchen, where she can collect her sister before leaving,' he said, and he turned his back on her and left the room without giving her another glance.
Six
Thomas had recovered from his illness, except for the occasional cough, and had been allowed to dress and go downstairs.
Mrs Packer tucked a rug around his knees and Frederick leaped up to purr throatily against his stomach.
‘I've made you some nice chicken broth for lunch,' she said.
‘Your chicken broth is always excellent, Mrs Packer.'
‘Thank you, sir.'
‘Has there been any mail while I was sick?'
‘The usual bills and invitations.' She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘That young woman came to see you when you were ill. She said her mother had died and she was going to take her young sister to live with some relatives in the country. Dorset, she mentioned, and prattled on, mentioning a boy . . . a right rapscallion he looked with a top hat pulled down over his ears, if you ask me.'
He gazed at her in shock. ‘You said Mrs Laws had died? How . . . Was she ill?'
‘She was killed, sir, but they caught the lad who did it. The young woman wrote you a letter; it's in her diary. I'll fetch it for you. And I gave her enough money for her train fare from the teapot, and some food. I thought that's what you'd want me to do.'
‘Yes . . . yes, I would have . . . the poor child.'
James arrived. ‘The doctor has allowed you out of bed, has he, Uncle? We were quite worried about you. Could you spare a cup of tea for a thirsty man, Mrs Packer?' Settling himself on a chair round the fire, he opened his paper and began to read.
BOOK: Lady Lightfingers
7.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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