An Honorable Thief (29 page)

"'What did you do with Singleton?'' asked Hugo. He had a fair idea, but wanted to be sure.

"Well, we all decided, best thing to do for the family's sake, hush the whole thing up. Singleton's family knew, of of course, but no one else. He agreed to go abroad in exchange for a regular sum to be paid to him."

The Pittance, thought Kit bitterly. Another mystery solved. How typical of Papa to belittle something he should have been grateful to get. He hadn't deserved such forbearance.

"And his father decided it would be best if he was thought to have perished while doing the Grand Tour. So after a few months, a report was sent from Italy that he had died. And that was that. Until a pretty young miss arrived and we find that a new bud has bloomed on the family tree of the
the Singletons," finished Sir William gallantly.

The big, bluff man's unexpected kindness took Kit by surprise. She had been prepared for his disapproval, for discomfort and embarrassment.

But this ponderous, gentle compliment from a man both she and her father had wronged flayed her guilt like no righteous attack could have. Tears flooded her eyes.

A bud? A bud from a diseased branch, she thought bitterly. They had both sprung from the branch of the family tree that should have been cut off and burned, long ago.

She could not pretend to herself that she was any different from her father; they were too alike. He had lied and cheated. He had deceived his friends and caused grief to his family. Kit had done the same
—some of it unwittingly, to be sure, but there was no question—she was a liar and a thief.

She had a chest upstairs with five spaces filled to prove it.

Five spaces, not merely four.

She felt ill. She had already robbed Sir William of his chess set; his priceless carved ebony and ivory chess set, the royal pieces of which were studded with precious stones.

She said shakily, "How can you not hate me? I am my father's daughter." Her eyes widened as she thought of something else. "All this time, you knew me to be Papa's daughter, and yet you welcomed me into your home. How could you do that, after what he did?"

Sir William smiled kindly. "I've never been a believer in the sins of the father and all that rot. Your father did what he did. This all happened before you were born. No, my dear Miss Kitty-cat, I took you as you came. And don't forget, you might be Jimmy's daughter, but you're also Rose's niece." He leaned forward and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't take it so hard, dear girl. Every family has its share of bad apples. Blood does not bind you; you choose the person you become."

Kit felt her insides shrivel with shame. Yes, she had chosen, that was true. Chosen the same crooked path as her father. Blood did bind you. She stood up. "Thank you for telling me, Sir William," she said in a low voice. "I... I think I shall go to bed now. Could you convey my thanks and apologies to Lady Marsden? I know I should wish her goodnight, but..." Her face crumpled and she looked away.

Sir William and Mr Devenish stood. Kit couldn't bear to meet their eyes; she couldn't bear to see how they would look at her now. In particular, she couldn't bear to look at Mr Devenish. He, even more than Sir William, knew the dreadful things she had done. And now he knew she came by her dishonesty naturally
—it was in her very blood. In a low, trembling voice she wished them goodnight and left the room, sick at heart at all she had learned.

She and her father were not worthy even to be in the same room as these fine people.

Chapter Eleven

"Mr
Cranmore
to
see
Sir
William
and
Lady
Marsden." "Yes, sir, I shall enquire, if you would care to wait." "Did he say M-Mr Cranmore?" faltered Rose in a very odd-sounding voice. There was a sudden tension in the room.

She and Kit had been sitting in the front drawing room, writing letters? Or at least Rose had been writing letters; Kit had been trying to decide whether it would hurt Rose more to learn the truth about Kit and her reasons for coming to England, or whether it would be kinder to leave Rose in ignorance. It was very difficult to decide whether ignorance was the preferable alternative, or if cowardice was influencing her decision.

Kit glanced at her aunt and jumped to her feet, instantly concerned. Rose was as white as a ghost, her eyes suddenly huge and haunted-looking. "Aunt Rose, are you not well?" Rose ignored her; she just stared at the doorway. She was trembling, her beautiful hands clenching the fabric of her gown into a mass of crumples.

Kit didn't know what to do. She had never seen Rose as anything except quite composed, a little vague, but still, composed and perfectly relaxed in whatever environment she found herself.

"Can I get anything for you, Aunt Rose?" Kit said gently.

Rose sat in her chair as if frozen, staring towards the open door. One shaking hand disentangled itself from the fabric of her skirt, and went to her hair, patting it into place in a preoccupied manner.

Outside, they could hear Sir William's booming voice. "By Jove, it's Cranmore! Cranmore, old fellow! Good God! We all thought you were dead! Only sayin' so last night!"

There was an answering masculine murmur, but no words were distinguishable.

Sir William spoke again. "Rose? Yes, she is staying with us at the moment. How ever did you discover such a thing? Good God, but it's a shock to see you after all this time! Through here, old chap, she's just in here."

At his words Kit thought Aunt Rose was going to faint, but instead she gripped the arms of the chair with claw-like hands and sat up rigidly. She looked to Kit like a woman who was facing execution
—she was utterly terrified.

The man outside was Cranmore, the man her father had cheated. Obviously he had returned after all these years and had come to hurt Rose in revenge for what Rose's brother had done to him.

Kit shot to the door. "You can't come in! I won't allow
it!"

Over Sir William's shoulder she saw Mr Devenish descending the last of the stairs, heading towards her in his measured, leisurely way. He'd clearly heard what was happening. Kit felt a quick rush of warmth and relief. He'd support her. He wouldn't let this man touch her beloved Rose.

"Now, now, Kitty girl," said Sir William. "You mustn't
—"

"I won't let him hurt her. He can't come in! It's not her, you want
—it's me. I am the daughter!" insisted Kit fiercely, flinging wide her arms across the doorway to bar their entry. She glared at the newcomer, a man of medium height and wiry build, with a dark sallowness that told Kit he had lived many years in the east. His hair was grey, his skin lined and his blue eyes regarded her shrewdly.

"I've never seen my aunt like this," she said vehemently to Sir William. "She's frightened of him." She turned back to Cranmore. "I won't have her upset, do you hear me? I won't allow you to harm a hair on her head!" she added in a low, urgent voice. "I know what happened and I promise you, sir, I will make reparation for what my father did to you. Only please, leave Rose alone. She deserves only kindness
—she knows nothing of this. If it is revenge you have come for, I am the one you want."

The man looked at her oddly for a long moment, then shook his head. "You're a fine girl," he said, "but you're wrong. Rose
is
the one I want."

"No! You cannot see her!" said Kit desperately. "Sir William, please show this man out!"

Sir William didn't move. Kit sent a look of appeal to Mr Devenish. He looked back at her with a grave unreadable expression. There was a faint knot between his brows, as if he was coming to some decision. He didn't move either.

Sir William clucked in a soothing manner and shook his head. "Allow me to introduce you, Cranmore. This young lioness is Miss Kit Singleton, Jimmy's daughter and Rose's niece. Kit, my dear, this good fellow is no murdering savage, but a very old friend of your aunt's, Mr Donald Cranmore."

"Delighted to meet you, Miss Singleton. Indeed, I have no plans to hurt your aunt Quite to the contrary, in fact." Cranmore smiled at Kit with a look of astonishing kindness.

She refused to be charmed. "I know who you are. And if you come as a friend, then why is my aunt sitting in there trembling like a leaf at the sound of your voice?"

"Because she is a foolish creature, and had received a great shock," said Rose's gentle voice behind Kit. "It's quite all right, my dearest girl. It was simply that I thought him dead these many years. I was in shock
—I still am, I believe—but indeed, you must not bar him from the sitting room." Rose took Kit's hand, lifted it away from the door jamb and kissed her on the cheek. "Such a brave little defender I have in you."

Kit flushed. She'd made a fool of herself, apparently. As for being a defender of her aunt, the compliment was unbearable; some defender she was, here on false pretences and having robbed her aunt's oldest friends. Ashamed, Kit dropped her hands and stepped out of the way.

"Donald? Is it really you?" said Rose hesitantly and wavered suddenly. "Oh, Heavens! I think my legs are going to collapse!"

There was a rush towards her, but it was the stranger, Mr Cranmore, who reached her first. To Kit's astonishment he swept her middle-aged aunt off her feet completely and into his arms, then walked with her
—much too slowly, in Kit's opinion—towards the long, plush sofa beside the window.

Kit stared, outraged. Her aunt didn't seem the least bit affronted by this manhandling. In fact, blushing like a girl, she laid her head against Mr Cranmore's chest.

"Come along Miss Kitty," whispered Sir William. Time for us all to leave."

Kit turned, astonished. Leave her fainting aunt, unchap-eroned and unattended, in the arms of a complete stranger?

"Come on, Kit." Mr Devenish wrapped a warm hand

around hers. His thumb caressed her skin gently. "They need to be left alone."

"But..."

He drew her gently but firmly out of the room and allowed Sir William to shut the sitting-room door behind them.

Sir William looked from Mr Devenish, to Kit then back again. "You'll explain?"

She felt, rather than saw, Mr Devenish nod.

"But..." She glanced back at the room, uncertainly.

"Come." His hand was warm and strong and urged her with him. "There are things you need to know." His deep voice was soft, but implacable. He drew her to the front door and led her down the steps and around the side of the house towards the rose garden. Their footsteps crunched on the raked gravel pathway.

"You are not cold?"

She shook her head, her mind spinning with questions.

They reached Lady Marsden's romantic rose arbour and he led her straight to the pavilion. The roses blooming in the morning sunshine released their perfume into the warm air.

He came straight to the point. “It is astonishing timing, but this is the last part of the mystery
—the part Sir William did not care to explain last night. He thought to spare you any more distress."

Kit stared at him, puzzled.

"Cranmore was not simply your father's friend," said Hugo. "He was your aunt's fiance\"

"You mean back when it all happened, when Papa... The woman Mr Cranmore was to marry in two weeks was...was Rose?"

Hugo nodded.

Kit felt sick. She thought she'd heard the worst last night, but this
—this was more than devastating. Not only had her
father cheated his friend, he'd destituted the man his only sister was about to marry. She thought back to the scene just enacted in the sitting room, the way Mr Cranmore had scooped up Rose against his heart, the expression in Rose's eyes as she looked up into his face.

"It was not a match of convenience, was it?" she said sadly.

Hugo shook his head gently, "If they can look at each other like that after twenty-two years..."

"Twenty-two years apart..." Kit repeated. "All these vears, she thought he was dead, and yet she never married."

Twenty-two years. Both Rose and Mr Cranmore had lived their lives in exile too. Her father had ruined so many lives...

She looked at Mr Devenish, who regarded her in such a solemn anxious way that, it was like to break her heart.

Her father had ruined her life as well. No, she could not blame her father for this. She'd ruined her own life. She'd known in her heart of hearts that what she was doing was wrong.

She had tried so hard, risked everything, deceived every-one. to prove herself worthy of her father's love. He was not worthy of such a sacrifice
—he'd never been worthy of

But nor was she. She was cut from the same tree
—stick,
root and branch. And even when she'd had the choice, she'd chosen wrongly. She was not worthy of anyone's love or respect. She was a liar, a cheat, a thief. A person who would do such things, even for the sake of love, was not
worthy of respect, let alone love.

Kit stood up and walked to the door of the pavilion. The scent
of the roses made her feel sick at heart. The roses mocked her
—there was no beauty left in her world.