The Devil's Thief (26 page)

Julianna
was trying to follow what he was saying, but she had little to no experience
with these matters. “I do not understand,” she said. “Why was the money that
was owed to the bank not paid out of the fee the current owner paid for the
property?”

Mr.
Wainwright’s lips thinned. “Yes, that is what should have occurred. However,
the current owner signed papers without legal advice. He purchased the debt
with the property.”

Oh,
dear. Mr. Wainwright was not happy about that. And she was quite sure the new
owner wasn’t either, even though it was his own fault. “Was there no legal
recourse?”

He
shook his head. “It’s hard to take action against a ghost with no assets.” At
Julianna’s inquiring look, he added, “The last owner has mysteriously
disappeared. It turns out he owed a great deal of money to quite a few people.
My client has had to fight to retain ownership of the property against the
claims of the previous owner’s creditors.” He sighed. “He is determined to see
a profit from this investment.”

Julianna’s
heart sank. It did not sound as if her pleas would be met with a receptive ear.
For one brief moment she thought about the money from the pearl, safely locked
away in her room at her father’s house. She shook her head. She couldn’t, she’d
already established that the money was Alasdair’s, not hers. She would have to
raise the funds another way. If she had to close the home for a while she would
do so. She’d find temporary lodging for the children and then set about finding
a patron so that she could reopen it at another location.

That’s
what she should have done to begin with. She’d gone in full of zeal and good
intentions, as her father had told her, taking in children before she had the
money to properly care for them. It was a hard lesson but one she’d learned
well over the last week. Now that her eyes had been opened, she realized that
the home had been more about her—her needs, her past,
her
independence—than about the children, and that was not the way it should
be. Parents like Mr. Wiley had entrusted their children to her, and she owed it
to them to have a plan, a patron, and a safe place for the children.

Julianna
cleared her throat. “Mr. Wainwright, you wouldn’t happen to have another client
who might perhaps be looking for a charitable organization to sponsor, would
you?” She tried not to sound too desperate.

Mr.
Wainwright smiled at her kindly. “I might, Miss Harte. I shall certainly
suggest it to several of my clients.”

Julianna
nearly slumped in relief. It was a start. Mr. Wainwright’s warm response was
more than she thought she’d find here today. She stood and reached out to shake
his hand gratefully. “Thank you so much for your assistance, Mr. Wainwright,”
she said sincerely.

He
continued to smile at her. “I think, Miss Harte, that you would be surprised by
how many people are simply waiting for you to ask for assistance before they
offer it.”

His
perception took Julianna by surprise. “I hope you are correct, Mr. Wainwright,”
she said fervently, “
because
I am about to ask them.”

Chapter Sixteen

Julianna
came downstairs for dinner that night with trepidation. It was barrister night.
She’d completely forgotten about the dinner party until her stepmother had reminded
her when she came home from the solicitor’s office. She hadn’t had time to
speak with her father and the baroness about her new plans for the foundling
home. It would have to wait until tomorrow. As for tonight, she had no qualms
about forgoing her promise to meet this newest barrister with an open mind. Her
heart was firmly fixed on Alasdair. To encourage anyone else at this point
would be cruel and deceitful. Alasdair might not be hers, but she was his in
every way possible. If she couldn’t be honest with others about it, she could
finally, at least, be honest with herself.

“Oh,
Julianna,” her stepmother said approvingly as she waited by the drawing room
doors, “you look ravishing, my dear. I’m so glad you’ve tried a new style for
your hair. You have such beautiful hair, it’s a shame to hide it.”

Julianna
had decided to be honest in her appearance, as well. Alasdair knew the real
Julianna now; there was no need to hide behind her silly, dull facade anymore.
To disguise herself now that way felt like another betrayal of Alasdair. She
self-consciously patted the side of her head, checking to see if her hair was
in place. She’d been surprised by Alasdair’s admiration of her hair. It was
vain, of course, and wicked, but even though he wouldn’t be here tonight, she
wanted to wear her hair in a fashion that he would like. It was gathered
loosely on top of her head, with curling tendrils hanging down along her neck
and cheeks. She felt untidy. But she did have to admit it looked rather good on
her. It softened her sharp cheekbones and square, pugnacious jaw nicely. She’d
also donned a pretty peach-colored dress her stepmother had bought her that
she’d never worn before.

There
was a knock below and the baroness waved her into the drawing room. “Come,
come,” she ordered, and Julianna hurried down the last few steps. “I want you to
be posed prettily when they come in.” She arranged Julianna in a chair facing
the door.

This
was new. Before, the baroness had simply taken care of introductions, allowing
Julianna to proceed as she saw fit. This posing and display made Julianna
uncomfortable and very nervous. What was her stepmother up to?

“My
dear, how beautiful you are,” her father murmured as he bent over the back of
her chair and kissed her cheek. “You remind me of your mother at your age.”

Julianna
blinked
back unexpected
tears at his compliment. Just
then the drawing room door opened and Handley entered. “Mr. and Mrs. John
Lyttle, Mr. Edward Lyttle, and Miss Lyttle, my Lady.”

Mr.
and Mrs. Lyttle were nondescript in their dress and manner. Both gray haired
and plump cheeked, Mr. Lyttle was a good head taller than his wife. They smiled
kindly and immediately went over to greet her father and the baroness. Miss
Lyttle was pretty in a fresh-faced way and she seemed quite young. Julianna
hadn’t seen her at any public functions, so she deduced that they must
be
allowing her to attend small private engagements such as
this prior to her coming-out. She clung to the arm of her brother. Mr. Edward
Lyttle, whom Julianna presumed was her potential barrister, was anything but
little. He was quite tall with thick, dark, wavy unkempt hair and bushy side-whiskers.
His cravat was askew. He followed behind his parents, frowning at the room.
“How do you do,” he said brusquely to the baroness when they were introduced, shaking
her hand firmly.

Oh,
dear. Julianna liked him already. He was interestingly odd, and surprisingly
handsome despite his untidiness. It was really too bad she’d have to disappoint
him.

Her
father walked back to her and held out his hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Lyttle, may I
present my daughter, Miss Harte.” She shook their hands and murmured a polite
hello. “And, Julianna, this is Mr. Edward Lyttle.” When Julianna shook his hand,
Mr. Lyttle’s grip was so strong it nearly brought her to her knees.

Before
they could sit down, Handley appeared at the door again. “Sir Hilary St. John,
Mrs. Gertrude Honeychurch, and Mr. Alasdair Sharp.”

Julianna
sucked in a gasp of surprise. What on earth were they doing here?

Alasdair
walked in and immediately glared at Mr. Lyttle who was still holding her hand.
“Lyttle,” he said in a flat tone, pointedly staring at their clasped hands.

She
released Mr. Lyttle’s hand as if it were on fire. “Sharp,” Mr. Lyttle responded
in the same flat tone.

“Oh,
do you know one another? How delightful,” the baroness trilled nervously.

“As
you said at my little entertainment the other evening, my Lady, one is always
running into a previous acquaintance in London. How do you do, Lyttle?” Sir
Hilary said with genuine pleasure.

While
introductions were made and acquaintances renewed, Julianna discreetly snuck
over to the libations cabinet in the corner and poured herself a small glass of
sherry, hoping to regain her composure. She turned in time to hear Sir Hilary
tell her stepmother, “We attended school together, ma’am. We’ve been great
friends for years.”

“Hmm,
yes, friends,” mumbled Mr. Lyttle vaguely.

“Haven’t
seen you in weeks,” Sir Hilary continued as if Mr. Lyttle hadn’t spoken. “Isn’t
that right, Sharp?”

“I’ve
tried not to see him since he broke my leg,” Alasdair said drily.

Mr.
Lyttle blushed, great splotchy patches of mortification. “You were equally at
fault,” he ground out. Oh, dear, anger then and not embarrassment.

 
She stared
wide eyed
at Mr. Lyttle, the implications of his previous acquaintance with Sir Hilary
and Alasdair making her head spin. “You were a Devil?” she blurted just a tad
too loudly.

The
silence that greeted her outburst was immediate and deafening in its censure.
“Juli-anna,” her father said.

“What
do you mean?” asked Mr. Lyttle sharply. “What do you know of the Devils?” He
eyed her, Sir Hilary, and Alasdair suspiciously.

Julianna
couldn’t think of an answer that would be suitable for this company. “I don’t
know what I mean,” she said inanely. “My apologies.” Her stepmother ought to
know better than to throw unexpected visitors at her. She knew Julianna was not
very good at social pleasantries, which required that one think before
speaking, one of her major failings.

“It
was devilish bad luck, to be sure,” Sir Hilary said with amusement. “But no
more than schoolboy antics. Poor Alasdair fell off a roof.” Alasdair looked
like he wanted to argue with that description, but the baroness jumped in to
make a comment about Miss Lyttle’s dress.

Julianna
started to walk over to the group with the intention of joining the
conversation, but Alasdair intercepted her. “How do you do, Miss Harte?” he asked
politely, taking her free hand and raising it to his lips. He perfunctorily
kissed the air above her wrist, and then he let her hand fall, as if they were
no more than strangers. She didn’t like that at all. “We need to talk,” he
whispered as he straightened to stand tall in front of her once again.

She
smiled politely for their audience. “Fine, thank you. And you?” After
ascertaining that everyone else was engaged in conversation, she pretended to
take another sip of sherry and whispered behind the glass, “What are you doing
here?”

“I
was invited. I assume that Lady Linville wished to reciprocate for the
invitation to my reception. You know the one? It was the night you decided to
steal my pearl.” He grinned and it took the sting out of his words. “So I came.
I concede it was a brilliant plan on my part.”

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.”