The Devil's Thief (7 page)

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.”