To Love a Thief (5 page)

“I will not. At least not until you tell me what you were doing. You can’t expect me to believe you were simply in the wrong room. You were looking for something. Tell me what it was.”

She moved away from him as if his touch burned her. Maybe it did. The feel of her skin beneath his palm was enough to heat him in the most inappropriate places.

“Please, my lord. I was mistaken. Just let me go.” Then she dashed for the exit.

Daniel went after her, but she’d already opened the door and was stepping into the corridor. He stopped short lest he tackle her over the threshold, but then she spun on her heel and charged right back into him, sending him stumbling backward. She gained her balance, turned, and shut the door firmly.

Daniel lurched forward and, without thinking, pinned her against the door. He laid his palms on either side of her shoulders against the wood. “What the devil is going on?”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Someone is in the corridor.”

That’s why she’d come right back into the office. He didn’t move away from her. Instead, he enjoyed the heat of her body, the flush of her exertion, the shallow pant of her breath. She kept her eyes averted, but Daniel would get her to look at him soon enough.

“Unless you want me to open this door and let all and sundry see us together, you’ll tell me what the hell you were doing in Lord Aldridge’s office.”

Her eyes snapped to his, their hazel depths flashing. She said, “You wouldn’t,” but her tone was laced with doubt.

He watched the muscle in her throat work as her pulse sped beneath her flesh, and her chest heaved. “You don’t know me well enough to say for sure. Do you want to find out?”

She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his. He leaned a trifle closer until her breasts were almost touching his chest. Though she was petite, she was gently curved in all the right places. Her fresh apple scent assaulted him as surely as her proximity.

“Remember what I told you? About my stolen—”

Voices sounded outside, and Daniel instinctively put a finger to her lips. She’d kept her voice low, but only silence would do. How many times had he had to stop an informant from speaking so they wouldn’t be overheard?

Her eyes widened. Was it because of the imminent danger in the corridor or because he was touching her mouth? A number of illicit thoughts raced through his mind. Perhaps she was feeling the same.

After a few breathless moments, the voices faded. Daniel gently exhaled, letting his shoulders relax and his finger—regrettably—drop from her lips. He braced his hand against the door near her head, again caging her within his arms. “Your stolen property?”

She blinked at him as if she didn’t remember who he was, let alone what they’d been speaking of. Then she gave her head a slight shake. “Yes,” she whispered. “Lord—or I suppose Lady—Aldridge is the man in possession of my necklace.”

She had to be mistaken. “Are you certain it’s your necklace? Perhaps it’s merely another one like it.”

“
Just
like it?” She pursed her lips. “It’s a one-of-a-kind pendant. Hand-painted on ivory.”

“How can you be sure it’s one of a kind?”

Frustrated lines etched across her forehead and around her mouth. “Because my father commissioned it from the artist specifically for my mother. It commemorated their first meeting, when he took her for a boat ride. Furthermore, it has a scratch in the glass—which
I
caused when I knocked it off Mama’s dressing table.”

That was pretty damned specific. Still, couldn’t the artist have liked the piece so much that he’d duplicated it? And perhaps Lady Aldridge’s necklace simply had a similar scratch. More likely, Aldridge had somehow purchased stolen property without knowing. Despite Miss Renwick’s insistence and the apparent coincidences in the pendants, he found it impossible to think that Aldridge was involved in the theft of her items. More likely, he’d somehow unwittingly purchased stolen property.

She glared up at him. “Are you going to move away, or are we destined to be caught together in this office?”

Office
… Instead of retreating, he brought his face within an inch of hers. “What were you doing looking for a necklace in an office?”

Her head tipped back against the door, but she had nowhere to go. She swallowed, her gaze locked with his. “I wasn’t looking for the necklace.”

God, she smelled delicious. “What were you doing?”

Her breath hitched, and her pupils expanded. “Looking for something else.”

“You’ll have to be more forthcoming than that.” He resisted the urge to press his mouth to her cheek, her throat, her parted lips.

“Evidence. I was looking for evidence that would prove Lord Aldridge is a thief.”

She was playing a very dangerous game. Did she realize whom she was accusing? He lowered his right hand to just above her bare shoulder. With a feather-light touch, he brushed his thumb along the column of her neck. He was vastly overstepping propriety, but he didn’t care. He’d been trained to use whatever skill and weaponry he possessed to take down a criminal, and right now she might be considered a criminal, regardless of her motivation.

“You won’t find any. Aldridge is as law-abiding as winter nights are long. If he has your pendant, and”—he lowered his mouth to her ear—“I don’t believe he does, he came by it honestly.”

She turned her head and met his eyes with an angry stare. “He claims it’s been in his family, but that’s impossible. How obvious that you would take his position without even asking him.”

“You can’t go searching Aldridge’s office. If you were caught—”

“I was,” she ground out through gritted teeth.

“—by anyone other than me, you’d be ruined.”

“If anyone catches me here
with
you, I’ll be ruined. But, you see, I don’t give a fig. I’ve no standing in Society whatsoever, no family, no plans to marry.” She gave him a smug, daring smile. “There’s nothing to ruin me for.”

Daniel had been well versed in propriety during his recent education into the peerage, and she was quite mistaken. “There’s Mrs. Harwood. Your behavior would reflect poorly on her.”

Her color faded, and he felt a bit of sympathy for her. But it paled next to his need to kiss her. He curled his right hand around the side of her neck and gently pulled her toward him. Her lids lowered and her head tipped up to receive his kiss. Desire pooled in his belly.

But then her eyes widened, as if she’d just been doused with icy water. Her hand came up and pulled his away from her neck. “Go to the devil.”

And then she turned abruptly and departed the office without so much as a glance into the corridor before she barreled straight into it.

Daniel watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. His ardor didn’t cool. If anything it only fanned brighter, hotter. She was incomparable, that was for certain.

And since he’d heard the jingle of loose items in the pocket of her gown, he had to assume she was also, disappointingly, a thief.

Chapter Four

TWO DAYS later, Jocelyn strolled up Hertford Street after her usual early afternoon walk through Hyde Park. Her fingers went to the pocket of her gown where the three items she’d taken from Lady Aldridge’s dressing chamber were nestled. Not only had she found her mother’s pendant, she’d found two other items that had been stolen from their town house: a pair of pearl earrings and a brooch set with paste jewels. She’d been outraged upon finding them and hadn’t thought twice about taking them back into her possession. They were, after all,
hers
.

Given that she’d found multiple items belonging to her family, she’d felt certain she’d find her father’s watch fob amongst Lord Aldridge’s things. However, she’d been unable to get to his dressing room. Disappointed but determined, she’d searched his office instead. Perhaps he kept records of things he’d purchased and she could prove these things
hadn’t
been in his family as he’d previously claimed.

But then Lord Carlyle had found her.

Her pace slowed as she recalled the heat of his body as he’d pressed her against the door.  He’d interrupted her search, and yet instead of remembering the jolt of fear, she flushed at the memory of the hint of clove that wafted from his collar, the intensity of his blue-gray eyes as he’d moved in for a kiss.

She pursed her lips and quickened her steps. Lord Carlyle might have been a potential suitor two years ago, but now he was nothing more than a nuisance. With any luck she’d be able to avoid him.

Except he was standing at the base of the steps leading up to Mrs. Harwood’s town house.

“Lord Carlyle,” she blurted before she could order her thoughts.

“Miss Renwick. I’ve come to speak with you about the other night.” His brows were drawn, his expression quite serious. He looked completely different from the first night they’d met, when he’d been all kindness and solicitation.

Her body tensed beneath his keen scrutiny. “I don’t believe we have anything to say to one another, my lord. Please excuse me.” She stepped around him and marched up to the door, but he followed.

When the door remained closed, Jocelyn frowned and then rapped on the wood.

“Where’s your butler?” Lord Carlyle came up beside her.

If she hadn’t been occupied with her concern, she would’ve told Carlyle to leave. “I’m not sure,” she murmured, as the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She was recalling another time when the butler had failed to greet her …

“Allow me.” He opened the door, pushing it wide so she could enter.

The small entry hall was deserted.

She stepped cautiously inside, her booted feet tapping against the marble tiles. “Moss?” she called.

No answer.

Carlyle followed her inside, and she was suddenly grateful for his persistent company. “Where would he be?”

Jocelyn chest constricted with oncoming panic. She tried to take a deep breath, to restore her nerves, but this was all too frighteningly familiar. “I don’t know. Let’s look in the—” She’d been about to say kitchen, but as they came abreast of the doorway leading to the front sitting room, she stopped short with a gasp. The room had been completely upset. A small writing desk was overturned, a vase lay in pieces, décor was strewn about as if every piece had been picked up and discarded without thought.

Oh God, it was precisely like two years ago.

“Stop.” Carlyle’s hand wrapped around her elbow and he drew her back into the entry hall. “Wait here.”

She barely registered his words. Her eyes lost focus as her mind went back to when she and her father had returned home that disastrous April night. Their leased town house had looked the same. The butler had been trussed like a goose in the scullery along with the cook, housekeeper, and maid.

“Miss Renwick?” Carlyle’s face came into view as if from a fog. “Miss Renwick.” His tone grew more urgent.

She still couldn’t draw a sufficient breath. Her chest rose and fell and her head grew light. “I … I need to sit.”

Carlyle guided her to the settee in the disordered sitting room. “I need to check on your retainers. Wait, is Mrs. Harwood at home?”

Jocelyn blinked up at him. Mrs. Harwood! Her heart skipped about her chest as if it wanted to break free and run, which is precisely what Jocelyn wanted to do. But she clutched the folds of her skirt instead. “I don’t think so. She went to tea at Mrs. Montgrove’s.” Jocelyn prayed she was still there.

“How many retainers are there?”

“The butler—Moss, his wife—she’s the housekeeper, and a maid. Look in the scullery first, please.” She was torn between going with him and staying put. She didn’t really care to be alone, but fear at what they might find below stairs froze her feet to the floor.

“You have to come with me,” he said. “Until I can ascertain that whoever did this is no longer in the house, I want you by my side. Do you understand?” His eyes were clear, his tone utterly calm.

She nodded, unable to fault his logic. It was better that he made her decision, for she simply couldn’t.

He helped her to her feet and he drew her close. “Take a deep breath, can you do that?”

Maybe
. His hand drew circles on her lower back as she inhaled. Finally, air filled her lungs as he conferred his care upon her. She was still tense and scared, but for a moment, she found solace.

“Ready?” he asked, his touch gently slowing until stopping altogether. He kept his palm against her lower back.

“I think so.” She told him the way to the scullery. They crept down the stairs and near the bottom heard muffled sounds. Carlyle rushed forward and found the three retainers on the floor, their hands bound to each other behind their backs and rags tied around their mouths. They were trussed exactly as Jocelyn’s servants had been two years ago. Shivers raced down her spine and up her arms.

Carlyle was already removing the rags from their mouths. The maid, Nan, began to swear, Mrs. Moss began to cry, while her husband thanked Carlyle profusely. Jocelyn jolted out of her shock, and she hurried forward to help untie them.

“Do you know if the culprits are still in the house?” Carlyle asked.