The Devil's Thief (17 page)

Tessa
took a seat across from her in the carriage and didn’t ask any questions,
thankfully. She’d probably decided that her mistress was beyond hope. Julianna
watched Alasdair surreptitiously through the window as he rode next to the
carriage. He was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. But she knew what
he was like in the dark, too, without the dazzling distraction of his looks.
And it was that man—the teasing, laughing, passionate lover—that
she desired. He was in there somewhere. But she’d taken his most valuable
treasure and he would never be able to forgive her. He’d proven that last
night. For some inexplicable reason he still desired her, but it was not a
welcome thing. He was as angry about his inability to resist her as he was
about her larceny. She did not like being something that a man hated himself
for. It was quite lowering.

When
they reached Covent Garden, Julianna still had no plan. She was so nervous she
had to clasp her hands together so that Alasdair wouldn’t see them shaking when
she got out of the carriage. Did he mean to spend the whole day with her? What
he meant as punishment was her idea of heaven, if a bit inconvenient. If only
he wouldn’t glare at her so. And if only she wasn’t spending the ill-gotten
money she’d made from selling the pearl. That put a decided damper on her
enjoyment of his company.

“Where
to first?” he asked matter-of-factly after the two men dismounted. They left
their horses with her father’s coachman and they walked in the direction of the
multitude of haphazard stalls and
sheds
that made up
the market. It was so noisy that he had to step close and lean down to speak in
her ear. The touch of his hand on her arm and the warmth of his breath on her
ear made her own breathing hitch and she stumbled. When she darted a glance at
him, she was surprised to notice that a bit of warmth had seeped into his gaze,
helping dispel the coolness that had been there earlier.

She
couldn’t speak. She just swallowed and pointed, the direction irrelevant. He
smiled and placed her hand on his arm.

“Why
are we here?” he asked a few moments later. They had done nothing but walk
around aimlessly, staring at the produce on display. He shook his head at a
vendor who was headed their way with a brace of carrots and the woman turned in
the other direction, yelling at another passerby instead.

“I
am buying food.” She could see her answer did not satisfy him.

“Why?
Does Lady Linville not trust her servants to do the shopping for her household?
Surely the housekeeper or cook’s assistant could do the shopping?”

She
tried to detect a note of accusation in his tone, but there was none. He seemed
genuinely curious. She glanced back and noticed Mr. Templeton offering an
orange to Tessa, who blushed and smiled as she took it, with Thomas frowning
behind them.

“I do some work for several charities,”
she answered truthfully, but vaguely. “I am actually buying provisions for one
of the charity houses I sponsor.”

He stopped short for a moment, and then
resumed their leisurely stroll among the stalls. “Ah, charitable work. The
refuge of the bored young lady.”

Julianna bristled. “I do not offer my
assistance out of boredom, Mr. Sharp, but in response to a deep need I see
among the poor of London.”

“There have always been poor, Julianna,”
he told her not unkindly, “and there always will be. I am sure they appreciate
your efforts, but your work is but a drop in the empty well of need.”

“And that is the attitude of a jaded,
self-absorbed aristocrat,” she accused
him,
unable to feign
a calmness she didn’t feel.

“Is that why you took my pearl?” he
asked casually as he reached out and picked up an orange, bringing it to his
nose and inhaling its fragrance with closed eyes and a smile. When she didn’t
answer, he opened his eyes and set the orange down. “Because I am self-absorbed
and you feel that I should pay for the circumstances of my birth with the loss
of that which is dear to me?” It was more of a prompt than a question.

Julianna shook her
head,
afraid she had given too much away. She tried to start walking again, but he stopped
her with a hand on her arm. When he had her attention, he motioned to the woman
selling the oranges. “How many?” he asked Julianna.

She worried her lip a moment.
“Twenty-five,” she finally answered.

Alasdair’s brow rose. “That many?” He
nodded at the woman and she began to box the oranges for them. Alasdair paid
her and Thomas picked up the box and took it to her carriage.

“Thank
you,” Julianna said as they both watched Thomas walk away.

“What
did I really do, Julianna?” She looked at him and she could see pity in his
eyes. “I have paid for some oranges, which will be a treat for the poor you
sponsor. But I have not changed their circumstances substantially.”

The
hopelessness of it all suddenly swamped her. He was right. She had stolen the
pearl to pay the rent, but for what? So the children would have a roof over
their heads until she ran out of money again? Would she have to steal again?
Take some other innocent victim’s treasured possessions? Or would she have to
close the home? It was already full, and more needy children came knocking
every day. They had to turn them away, which broke her heart. She knew she was
trying to fill the well one drop at a time, knew that it was an impossible
task. And she had known it all along. Was that why she had concocted this
ludicrous scheme and stolen his pearl?
To disguise the truth
from herself?

A
tear slid down her cheek as she stared at him, and he reached out and tenderly
wiped it away with his thumb. “I did not mean to put that despair in your
eyes,” he whispered. “I only meant to warn you to protect your heart. If you
take on the troubles of the world, you will break under the burden. Do not let
the world break you, Julianna.”

She
had no response. She turned away and began walking again, blind to her
surroundings. Alasdair took her arm and guided her.

If
he knew the poverty and hopelessness she’d seen, young girls who through
ignorance or violence found themselves with child . . .

Her
mind, along with her feet, stumbled to a halt. She’d been with Alasdair. She
could be carrying his child right now. How could she have been so stupid? She
saw the ramifications of such loose behavior in the foundling home, and
yet she hadn’t thought about it once, not either time
. All
she’d been able to think about was having him inside her.

“Are
you sore?” he asked. His voice was pitched very low, and he had leaned down
quite close to her. “You have stumbled more than once today.”

Julianna
was so dumbfounded at her foolishness that it took her a moment to register his
meaning. Then she blushed. He was asking how she felt after their encounter
last night. She shook her head.

“I’d
be surprised if you were not.” He sounded as if the memory was pleasing, and
Julianna darted a glance at him. He was looking at her heatedly. She had not
misinterpreted his reaction, then. She looked away and continued her slow
stroll.

“I
took you rather roughly,” he added, a dark edge to his voice.

“Yes,
you did,” she agreed, barely able to speak through the desire and embarrassment
and confusion swamping her.

“I
am not sorry.” His voice was ragged, his hand tightening on her arm.

“Neither
am I,” she whispered, and she meant it. In spite of everything, in spite of her
new fear that she might be carrying his child, she could not regret having
known him intimately. She felt a bead of sweat trickle down between her breasts
and she shivered.

They
had stopped again and stood staring at each other. Julianna wanted nothing more
than to fall into his arms and devour him. From the way his cheeks were flushed
and his breathing ragged she rather suspected he felt the same.

“Is
there a problem?” Mr. Templeton asked as he came up to them. He smiled mildly
but his look was perceptive.

“No.”
Alasdair didn’t look away as he answered. Julianna couldn’t break their gaze
either.

“Are
we done here?” Mr. Templeton asked.

“Yes,”
Julianna said decisively. Everything had changed now, not just the situation
between her and Alasdair, but also her plans for the pearl.

“No
treasure then?” Mr. Templeton inquired teasingly.

Alasdair’s
shoulders stiffened and he frowned. Julianna’s heart sank when he looked away
from her.

“If
I had found a treasure, I would have shared my good fortune with Mr. Sharp,”
she replied, willing him to understand what she was saying, even though she
wasn’t completely sure what that was.

 
“As long as I am the only one to share
it,” he replied drily. “Spreading a treasure around makes each share worth that
much less.”

It
took her a confused moment to figure out what he was referring to. When she
realized he was talking about her imaginary lover from their argument last
night, she was astounded. Did he really believe she had another lover? She
cringed at his low opinion of her. But could she expect anything more? Ladies
simply did not do the things they had done together. He was justified to think
her no better than a strumpet. But it still hurt.

She
turned away bleakly, her eyes stinging. “Rest assured, Mr. Sharp, that there is
no one else interested in any treasure I may have.”

Mr.
Templeton had been silently observing their exchange and now he spoke. “I find
that very hard to believe, Miss Harte.” When she cast an inquisitive look his
way, she couldn’t read the expression on his face. He looked between her and
Alasdair. “I think Sharp had better be very careful that your treasure does not
slip through his fingers.”

The
last stop of the day was a cloth merchant in Piccadilly. After Alasdair
promised to see Julianna and her maid home, her footman headed off in the
carriage with the food she’d purchased.

When
Julianna went into the shop, Alasdair and Roger settled themselves on a bench
outside a coffeehouse across the street. Neither man wished to be seen wiling
away their time in a cloth shop. Alasdair coughed as a curricle rushed by, dust
flying in its wake. Roger waved his hand in front of his face before taking a
big bite of the apple he’d bought earlier. He chewed loudly and took another
noisy bite, which earned an annoyed look from Alasdair.

“What?”
Roger asked peevishly. “I’m starving. It isn’t my fault you dragged me onto the
harsh streets of London with no breakfast.”

“You
looked decidedly ill at the mention of food not too long ago,” Alasdair
reminded him.

Roger
shrugged and took another bite. Alasdair’s mouth watered and he wished that he’d
thought to buy an apple, too. After he swallowed, Roger gestured across the
street with his apple and Alasdair’s eyes followed it. “What do you hope to
accomplish here, Sharp?”

The
day had grown uncomfortably warm, and Alasdair was tired, hungry, and
irritable. He hadn’t been able to look at Julianna all morning without being
tormented by visions of last evening’s blistering encounter. “What do you
mean?”

“We
are following a woman on her household errands through the streets of London
hoping that she might suddenly remember she meant to visit her favorite
receiver today, and merrily lead us to the pearl.” Roger looked at him wryly.
“Is it just me or does that sound a little implausible?”

“If
you wish to go home, Roger, or at least back to Hil’s, do not let my motives or
predicament impede you.” Alasdair waved in the general direction of Hil’s
apartments. “Go on, and fair thee well.”

Roger
grinned at him and took another bite of apple. He chewed while holding his
steady gaze on Alasdair until Alasdair squirmed and glared at him. “Leave? And
miss all this excitement?” Roger said. “Don’t be foolish, man. The thought
never crossed my mind. I daresay Hil is not finding nearly as much amusement in
his search for clues.”

Alasdair
trained his eyes on the pedestrians walking along both sides of the street. Was
she supposed to meet someone? Is that why she had insisted on stopping here?
Was she waiting inside, thinking she’d fooled everyone, anticipating a tryst
with some other lover?

“Well,
there isn’t a great deal to look at around here,” Roger commented, “but I’d
hardly say it’s unpleasant enough to cause that look on your face.”

“Who
is he?” Alasdair growled. As irrational as it was, he couldn’t seem to stop his
jealousy.

Roger
stopped in mid-motion, the apple halfway to his mouth. “Who is who?”

“Her
lover.” Alasdair practically spit the words out. In his mind’s eye he saw
Julianna in an intimate embrace with some faceless stranger, murmuring words of
love.

Roger
stared at him incredulously. “I was under the impression that you were.”

Alasdair
stood up and paced the pavement in front of Roger. “Oh, yes, I’m one of them.
But one of how many?” He was gesturing angrily, and he nearly slapped a poor,
hapless passerby in the nose.