Lady Thief (8 page)

“You hold your tongue, miss! I’ll say what I like about her, and I say that she has the morals of a cat. I’ll have no bastards in this house.”

Jenny gasped in outrage, while Meg sobbed even harder. “How dare you.” She immediately fired up in defense of her stepsister. “Meg is completely innocent of men. She would never do anything to disgrace her good name.”

Sir George contented himself with uttering a derisive, “Ha!”

Furiously, Jenny said, “Meg must have gotten her virtues from her mother; they certainly did not come from you. You’re an insensitive brute.”

“I am the head of this house, and I’ll not stand for this disrespect.”

“You have to
earn
respect.”

“That’s enough!” Sir George’s roar rattled the windowpanes. “Upstairs, the both of you. You’re to be locked in your rooms until I say differently. You will learn to respect me.” He glared at them. “And you will marry whomever I say.”

“No.” It was Lady Ross, her quiet voice cutting through every other sound.

Meg abruptly stopped crying and lifted astonished eyes to her stepmother. Jenny’s eyes were no less astonished.

The room was filled with a quivering silence. All eyes turned to Lady Ross. She stood, frail shoulders squared and face determined, in a confrontation with her husband that she had avoided for six years.

Sir George appeared totally stunned by the unlooked-for interruption. “What did you say?” he sputtered.

She turned cool eyes to her husband. “I said that neither Meg nor Jenny will be locked in her room. And they will not be forced to marry against their will. It is one thing to forbid what is obviously an unsuitable match, quite another to force a girl to marry a man she abhors.”

“I’m the head of this family!” Sir George bellowed. “I make the decisions.”

Lady Ross glanced at the quiet figures of Meg and Jenny. “Jenny, you and Meg wait for me upstairs.”

“Yes, Mama.” Jenny immediately began shepherding her stepsister toward the door, feeling a new respect for her mother.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sir George began his tirade. “What the hell is going on here? What do you mean by encouraging those girls to disobey me? I run this house and I’ll thank you to remember it.”

“I will thank
you
to remember,” Lady Ross replied calmly, “that while you may or may not be the head of this family—depending, I suppose, on your point of view—I control the purse strings. The girls will go to London.”

Sir George went beet-red with fury. “I am your husband! You will obey me!” he thundered.

“No,” she said very quietly. “I will not obey you—not this time. My obedience to you in the past has all but lost me my daughter’s respect.” She gave her head a tiny shake, as if to throw off unwelcome thoughts. “In any event, Jenny and Meg are young women now and cannot be treated as children. They will go to my old friend, Lady Beddington, who is Jenny’s godmother, and will make their come out this year.”

“I forbid it.”

“I am afraid you have no choice in the matter, George. You have several rather large outstanding gambling debts. Unless you agree to send the girls to London, those debts will not be paid. And since you sold your own estate and spent the proceeds long ago, you will find yourself at something of a stand.”

For the first time in their marriage, Sir George felt oddly unsure of himself. There was an expression in his wife’s eyes that he had never seen before—strongly resembling the glint of determination that he had seen in Jenny’s eyes on more than one occasion. He had no doubt that she meant exactly what she said. And she was right—he had no choice.

 

 

Lady Ross entered Jenny’s bedroom to find the girls waiting tensely. “Meg, Jenny, start packing—but only enough for two or three weeks. You will both need completely new wardrobes for your come out.”

“Mama—” Meg burst into tears. “Please don’t make me go. If you would only meet Robert . . .”

Lady Ross touched her cheek gently. “Meg, I’ll make you a promise. Go to London with Jenny, go to all the parties and balls, laugh and dance and flirt with the young men. And when you come home in the summer, if you are still of the same mind, I will meet this Robert and we will see what can be worked out.”

“But, Mama—”

“Meg. You will experience the pleasure of your come out only once in your lifetime. Enjoy it while you can—before you become tied to a home and family.”

Jenny, who had been thinking hard, stepped forward then. “Let me talk to her, Mama.” She smiled warmly at her mother.

Lady Ross smiled in return and quietly left the room. Jenny found a handkerchief and firmly dried Meg’s tears. “Meg, listen to me. Where does Robert live?”

Meg’s sobs died away and she stared at Jenny through suddenly hope-filled eyes. “In London!”

“Exactly. And the two of you will be able to see each other in a perfectly respectable fashion.”

Meg threw her arms around her stepsister. “Oh, Jenny, isn’t it wonderful? We’ll dance together and go riding and—” She broke off with a gasp. “Good heavens—I must go and pack!” She raced from the room.

Jenny sighed rather wearily and turned to her own packing. She felt no compunction in raising Meg’s hopes; if it was humanly possible, she meant to see the young couple wed within a year.

She straightened from her work and frowned slightly. She would send Robert a note and ask him not to make any attempt to see Meg for a few weeks at least. It would do no harm for Meg to meet other young gentlemen.

Thoughts of her own fate rose to haunt her. It was the height of folly for her even to consider living in London. One wrong word or gesture, and she would be completely undone. She would hang as an example to anyone foolish enough to commit the offense of highway robbery.

And what of Spencer? He knew her better than any of her victims. What if he recognized her? Could she trust him not to betray her?

For the first time in her life, Jenny declared a pox on all unanswerable questions.

Chapter Eight

The following days were filled with preparations for the journey to London. A letter was sent off immediately to Lady Beddington, and her reply quietly gratified Ladyto Ross. Yes, indeed, she would be delighted to have Meg and Jenny stay with her for the Season.

Maids spent a great deal of time packing and unpacking trunks; Meg was constantly misplacing something or other, and would instantly search every trunk for the lost article—meaning that the disordered trunks had to be packed all over again.

Jenny managed, without Meg’s knowledge, to have a quiet meeting with Robert. He was understandably reluctant to agree with her request that he not try to see Meg for a while, but finally gave in. He would remain in Kent for a few weeks.

That worry out of the way, Jenny also managed to send word to John and Jason that she would be out of touch for a while. She fully intended to continue in her search for her father’s murderer, but she wanted time to settle in town first. It would give her a chance to sample public opinion. She was completely aware that, for the most part, there was a great deal of quiet championship for the Cat. The polite world was all agog to know who the mystery woman was—and why she had taken to robbery.

But public opinion could turn against her in an instant, and she wanted to be aware when and if that happened. Not that the tide of public opinion influenced her overmuch; she would simply have to be more cautious.

 

 

Jenny stared out the coach window at the passing scenery and felt a flicker of excitement as she thought of finally reaching London. She had ridden through London, of course, but only to return jewelry to its rightful owners. On those occasions, she had always been solely concerned with avoiding the watch. There had certainly been no opportunity for sightseeing.

Now, she was going to spend the next few months living in London. Unless, of course, someone realized that she was the Cat. In that event, she would not have to worry about anything—except what she wanted written on her head-stone.

Jenny shook away that depressing thought, and began to dispassionately consider the reason behind her sudden urge to see London. It had never seemed so important before. She was not in the habit of deceiving herself, and she was fully, though reluctantly, aware that the foremost reason for her interest was the Duke of Spencer.

He was intruding on her thoughts far too often for her peace of mind, and Jenny was at a loss to know how to deal with such a situation. It was beyond her experience. Her traitorous mind conjured up a mental image of the duke at little or no provocation, causing her to lapse into sudden silences. Even her mother had noticed, and had worriedly inquired if she was feeling all right. Jenny had brushed away her mother’s concern.

It was not quite so easy to brush away her own concern. Jenny had discovered that she had a very stubborn mind. It did no good at all to tell herself firmly that the duke would have nothing to do with a thief. The heart was not a logical organ. And neither, apparently, was a dream-fogged mind.

Jenny’s worries were temporarily laid to rest upon the coach’s arrival in London. Meg exclaimed excitedly over the traffic and the fine-looking gentlemen, and if Jenny searched the crowd rather intently for a tall, handsome gentleman, Meg was blessedly unaware of it.

The coach drew up before a fine-looking residence on Berkeley Square, and the double doors were immediately opened by a dignified butler with a forbidding aspect.

The butler (who informed them regally that his name was Somers) led them to the drawing room and announced their names. Before he could complete the introduction, both girls were engulfed in affectionate hugs from a middle-aged matron with a rather stout figure and mischievous blue eyes. She drew back far enough to smile happily at the girls, and then nodded a dismissal at the patiently waiting butler. “Oh, go away, do, Somers. I know very well who they are.” Without waiting to see if the butler obeyed, she immediately launched on a nonstop dialogue to her guests about the parties and balls they would be attending, the handsome young gentlemen they would be meeting, the sad state of the king’s health, the war with Bonaparte, and a terribly insipid ball she had attended the night before. She jumped from one topic to another in a bewildering manner that was calculated to totally confuse even the most astute of listeners.

Jenny and Meg listened rather blankly, and followed meekly when Lady Beddington led them upstairs, saying that they would no doubt wish to rest after their long journey.

“Just as if,” Meg later confided to Jenny, “we had come from India instead of Kent.”

The two girls were sitting on the bed in Jenny’s room while their maids unpacked the trunks. Their chattering hostess had left them to rest, but since they were both country girls accustomed to plenty of exercise, they preferred to talk.

Meg laughed softly, saying, “I like Lady Beddington. She seems so cheerful.”

Jenny laughed in response. “At least we won’t have to worry about holding up our end of the conversation—not while she’s present, at any rate.”

“Jenny,” said Meg, changing the subject abruptly, “promise me that you won’t tell Lady Beddington that Mama has forbidden me to see Robert.”

Jenny smiled at her stepsister. “I won’t tell her, Meg. But you must remember what Mama said. Try to enjoy yourself here. It isn’t such a long time until summer, you know.”

“All right, Jenny,” Meg replied doubtfully, “but it won’t be easy to enjoy myself until I can see Robert again. It won’t be easy at all.”

 

 

However much Meg may have doubted her ability to enjoy herself in London, Lady Beddington saw to it that she had little time to do anything
but
enjoy herself. After innumerable shopping trips, dress fittings, and dancing lessons, the girls were ready to make their curtsies to polite society. They had been in London slightly above a week.

At their first party, the girls were immediately swamped with young men desirous of becoming better acquainted, and matrons had only good things to say about their manners and general deportment.

Overnight, Jenny became known as the Dark Incomparable, and Meg became so accustomed to hearing herself described as an angel that she decided London was a very nice place after all.

And when it became known that Jenny was an heiress, her circle of admirers widened even more. She was slightly amused by the fortune hunters, and did nothing at all to discourage them. She preferred to treat all her admirers impartially, secure in the belief that she was well able to take care of herself.

Within a very few days, however, Jenny found that she was growing slightly jaded with all the attention she had been receiving. She was cynically aware of the fact that at least part of her suitors were interested in her fortune rather than herself, and their flowery compliments soon began to pall.

She was also aware of a restless urge to continue her search for her father’s killer. Jenny had spent many uneasy nights wondering fatalistically when someone would recognize her as the Cat. She had finally persuaded herself to believe that the best place to hide a tree was in the forest; who would look for the Cat in the midst of London society?

Thoughts of the Cat, however, were far from her mind on the night that she first visited Almacks. She was slightly disappointed at the bareness of the rooms, and the refreshments were rather meager, but fashionable society had turned out in full force, and Jenny was cheered to see the ladies and gentlemen decked out in silks, satins, and jewels of every kind.

She had little opportunity to study the crowd, however, as she was swept off first by one young man, and then another.

Lord Rivenhall was the first; his bloodshot eyes gleamed down at her with a mixture of avarice and desire. To Jenny’s discerning eye, the young lord revealed all the traits of the experienced gambler and one, moreover, whose pockets were seriously to let. He was obviously after her fortune. With that fact painfully apparent, she was still able to laugh and flirt lightly with him; she was in no danger of losing her heart.