The Devil's Thief (8 page)

“What else did she tell you?” Hil asked. “Besides why she
needed the money.”

Alasdair began to pace as he thought back on the conversation
they’d had right before he fell asleep. “She said her mother died when she was
young, and her father had recently remarried, but that it wasn’t turning out as
he had planned.”

“Excellent!” Hil exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “That will
be very useful in narrowing our search. What else?”

Alasdair wrinkled his brow as he thought hard. Their
conversation was overshadowed in his mind by the physical intimacy they had
shared. “She said her father thought she hung the moon and stars and would not
be happy were he to find out how she spent the evening.”

Roger snorted. “I should think not.”

“That might mean she didn’t learn her dubious trade from her
father,” Hil said. “But then who educated her in the art of burglary?”

“She wasn’t a very good thief,” Alasdair observed. “I did
catch her, after all.”

“Good point. And how did you catch her?” Roger asked.

“I heard a noise, and when I looked over, there she was
silhouetted perfectly in the moonlight against the back wall of my bedroom.”

“And you called out, ‘Stop, thief!’ ”

Alasdair laughed. “No, I told her not to move unless she
wished to be shot.”

Hil gave him a curious look. “You had a gun?”

 
“Yes. Brightmeyer
made some threats the other night when he found me in bed with Hosea.”

Hil shook his head, while Roger thumped his forehead with the
palm of his hand. “Why on earth would you tup Brightmeyer’s doxy?” Roger
exclaimed. “Everyone knows he is so jealous of her he can no longer think
straight. Even I know that, and I’ve only just returned to London.”

Alasdair really had no answer. It had just . . . happened.
He shrugged. “She made herself available and I had nothing better to do that
evening.”

Roger just looked at him with wide eyes, as if he were
speaking a foreign tongue. “Was she at least worth it?”

Alasdair scratched his jaw as he considered the question.
Honestly, he remembered little about their tryst. He was relatively sure he’d
hit his mark, but that was the highest praise he could give. “Not really. I was
expecting more, given the level of Brightmeyer’s jealousy.”

“Not like your experience with your little thief last night,
eh?” Hil asked nonchalantly.

Alasdair didn’t even want the two women mentioned in the
same conversation. Juliet was nothing like Hosea. He shook his head. “I have
never before experienced anything like it,” he told Hil firmly, “and I doubt I
ever will again.” Truly, it was like a dream. If his pearl hadn’t been missing
this morning, he might have dismissed the whole evening as such.

Hil smiled briefly. “No. No, I don’t suppose you have. Well,
there is no need to turn her over to the authorities when we find her. It doesn’t
sound as if she makes a habit of this sort of thing.”

“She did steal his pearl, Hil,” Roger said as he stood up,
holding the paper on which he’d scrawled their clues.

“Not exactly,” Alasdair confessed. He hadn’t planned on
admitting this, but he didn’t want Hil and Roger to think the worst of Juliet.

Both men stopped and looked at him, Hil with interest, and
Roger with narrowed eyes.

“There’s that ‘not exactly’ again,” Roger said. “What
exactly do you mean by it?”

Alasdair sighed. “I may have, in a moment of pure,
unadulterated stupidity, promised her the pearl in exchange for one night in my
bed.”

Roger barked with laughter. “Poor Sharp! And she accepted
this bargain, did she? It was certainly well made on her part.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Alasdair bit out, “and I certainly never
expected her to do it. Clearly I was mistaken, and quite misguided.”

Hil was shaking his head and Alasdair felt like a schoolboy,
standing before his headmaster awaiting a scold. “That was not well done of
you,” Hil said gravely.

“Well excuse me for thinking that I needn’t take the moral
high ground with a thief who crept into my bedchamber in the middle of the
night.” Alasdair sounded defensive. He didn’t like being put in that position.
“I had planned on taking care of her,” he said more calmly. “I was going to
offer her carte blanche in the morning. I wanted to make her my mistress, buy
her a house,
take
care of her. She never gave me the
chance.”

“We must make our own chances,” Roger said. He was
uncharacteristically somber. “You should have told her if that’s what you
wanted.” He sighed, and stood there looking out the window for a moment. Then
he looked back at Alasdair. “Is that still what you want? I’m not sure I’m
willing to help you find her otherwise. She didn’t take anything that didn’t
rightfully belong to her.”

Hil was watching him, the same question written on his face.
Alasdair shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know what I want. Yes, I want to
find Juliet.” He stared hard at the other men in turn. “But I must get the
pearl back. It means something. It is a true legend among the Scots and even
here in England. But more than that it is my legacy, my mother’s legacy, and the
pride of my family is at stake. I cannot be the one responsible for losing it,
even if it was my own folly that caused its loss. No matter who she is or what
I want from her, the pearl must come first.”

“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.