To Love a Thief (7 page)

AFTER WALKING the Bow Street constable through Jocelyn’s town house and ensuring everyone there was in good hands, Daniel had departed. He’d been a bit loath to leave her and her servants—Mrs. Moss was still quite agitated—but he’d done all he could without raising eyebrows, particularly because Mrs. Harwood had returned home. He told himself he merely wanted to see them all safe and secure, but he knew with Jocelyn it was a bit more than that. In her bedchamber, she’d looked at him with something akin to hunger. Then she’d glanced at her bed. He’d had to fight every male instinct he possessed to keep his hands and mouth to himself.

He caught a hack and directed it to St. Giles, where nearly all of his informants made their homes and conducted business, such as it were. His mind thrilled at the chance to solve a crime again. He could scarcely wait to speak with his favorite fence, assuming Odette was still operating her flash house. If she wasn’t, it meant she’d come to a tragic end, because he couldn’t see the shameless former prostitute ever leaving her livelihood.

One of the problems he’d come up against as a constable was the differing views regarding treatment of certain criminals. Was Odette breaking the law as a fence? Absolutely. And once, as a green constable, he’d attempted to arrest her, until he’d realized that in prison she wouldn’t be able to help him catch bigger villains. So they’d begun a mutually beneficial relationship in which Daniel ignored her fencing activities—within reason—and she provided him with information that led him to snare a large number of thieves.

The hack stopped in front of the Silver Unicorn. He paid his driver and inhaled the familiar filth of the rookery. He didn’t miss
that
, but the scent went hand-in-hand with fighting crime and that made him smile with anticipation.

Odette’s flash house hadn’t changed in the years since he’d been gone. The sign still bore a prancing white, not silver, unicorn. Four dogs loitered at the entrance and Daniel recognized the largest, a scruffy gray mongrel with huge brown eyes. “Gray,” he greeted, using the animal’s none-too-original moniker. “How’ve you been, boy?”

Gray remembered Daniel too, for he nuzzled his hand and his tongue lolled from his mouth. Daniel spent a minute petting the dog and then had to extend the kindness to his furry friends who’d come looking for attention.

With a final pat to Gray’s head, he turned toward the interior. Gray gave his hand a lick and Daniel smiled, reminded of his dogs at home. Rather, the pair of hounds he’d inherited at Carlyle Hall in Essex. When had he started to think of that as home? He shook the thought from his head and focused on the task before him.

The taproom of the Silver Unicorn was as low-ceilinged and dim as he recalled. At this time of day, the place was empty, which made it his favorite time to visit. He walked to the back, where the bar stood, its scarred surface bearing witness to the years it had been in existence.

A dark head popped up and froze at the sight of him. “Danny Carlyle!” Odette exclaimed. At just past middle age, Odette was still a comely woman, if a bit brash in her looks. Her forehead was just a bit too wide, but was forgiven by a pair of sultry eyes with lashes as thick as pitch. And the tip of her nose was too blunt, but the lush curve of her lips drew one’s attention immediately south.

She raced around the bar and threw her arms around his neck. They’d never been intimate—she was old enough to be his mother—but Daniel often thought she’d wished she were younger.

He hugged her in return and when she finally let him go, he stood back and, with mock sincerity, said, “Don’t you mean Lord Carlyle?”

“Oh, good Christ! You don’t expect me to curtsey and simper, do you?” She curled her lip in distaste, but quickly smiled. Then she sank into an energetic, if not perfect, curtsey. “My lord, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this afternoon?”

He pulled her to stand. “You can knock that off and pull me a pint.” Odette served some of the best ale in London.

“As my lord instructs.” She laughed as she sauntered back around the bar.

Daniel leaned against the wood, his eye finding the gouge in the middle where he’d dodged a knife one night. His blood heated at the memory. Could he still hold his own in a fight?

She slid his ale across the bar and gave him a mock scowl—he could tell by the twinkle in her eyes. “It took you long enough to visit me.”

“My apologies, Odette. It turns out being a viscount is harder than being a constable.”

Her boisterous laugh filled the room. “What rot.” She pulled herself a pint of ale. “As much as I adore you, I’m sure you didn’t come to ask after my health. Though, it would’ve been nice if you had.”

Yes, it would have. “I am appropriately chastised. I shall endeavor to do better. I wonder what Society would say about me frequenting a flash house in St. Giles?”

She chuckled. “That you’re a wastrel or a drunk. Or both.”

He took a long draught of ale. The flavor reminded him of countless nights in establishments just like this, asking questions just like this one: “How’s business?”

She put her elbows on the bar and folded her forearms in front of her. “Same as usual.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Liar, you were always hoping I’d narrow my focus.” Give up the fencing, she meant. Though she was dead helpful, he liked her and worried for her safety. Too many fences lost their lives over a dispute or dissatisfied customer.

“I’m hoping you can help me with something that would’ve happened two years ago. Several items were stolen from a friend of mine.” He’d convinced Jocelyn to give him the items so he could make inquiries. Rather than pull all three from his pocket, he withdrew just the pendant, since it was the most distinctive of the pieces. He laid it atop the bar. “Do you recognize this?”

She pulled a lantern closer and leaned over to inspect the necklace. Her weathered fingers smoothed the glass that covered the ivory. “Lovely. But I haven’t seen it before.”

Daniel had so been hoping she could help him. Her specialty was trafficking items stolen from the homes of the wealthy and privileged. “Think back, if you can. The item was stolen from a town house in Mayfair. There were multiple pieces. A brooch, earrings, a watch fob that was also hand-painted.” He removed the other items from his pocket. “Here.”

She looked up at him, her brow arched. “Withholding from me, eh?”

He tipped his head in apology.

She picked up the brooch and studied the paste jewels. “Where’s the watch fob?”

“It hasn’t been recovered.”

After discarding the brooch, she studied the earrings. “Where’d you find these?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She withdrew from the jewelry and assumed her previous position with her arms folded on the bar. “It does if you want answers. You know how this works, Danny.”

Yes, he did. Information begat information. “They were found in the house of an earl. I believe he bought them without realizing they were stolen.” It was the only reasonable explanation. Aldridge had lied about them being in his family to save face. If word got out that he’d purchased stolen items, his reputation as a crime reformer would be ruined. Furthermore, Daniel simply couldn’t believe he was guilty of more than that.

Odette’s head perked up. “An earl, you say?”

Daniel leaned forward, his pulse quickening at the lure of information. “Yes?”

“Don’t know anything about that.” She took a drink of ale.

Daniel suppressed a frown. It was best to keep all emotion out of these sorts of discussions. It was never helpful to give anything away, something Odette was trying her damnedest not to do. But he saw through her denial. Whenever she didn’t have an answer for him, she always offered to find out. Why not this time?

“Can you ask around for me?” he asked. “But try not to say it’s an earl. I’d prefer to keep the gentleman’s identity secret.”

She scoffed. “There’s a thousand earls or summat, aren’t there? Sure, I’ll see what I can find out, but given how long ago this happened, I wouldn’t expect much. Your friend should just be happy to have her things back.”

He reached out to pick up the jewelry, but laid his hand over hers instead. He looked at her intently. “I’d really like to know who stole these. There are other items she’d like to find, things that are particularly valuable to no one but her.”

Odette’s face softened, and she turned her hand over so they were palm to palm. “You always were a bit sentimental. Find yourself a wife yet? Maybe this ‘friend’ of yours?”

Wife? He’d planned to court Jocelyn before she’d turned to thievery. He was definitely attracted to her, but could he overlook what she’d done?

He scooped Jocelyn’s—when had he begun to think of them as hers?—jewels into his pocket and ignored the wife questions. “I’m not sentimental. You’re just a hardened criminal.”

“Shhh! You’re not supposed to say that out loud.”

He flashed her a smile. “Afraid the rats might turn you in?”

She laughed loudly again. “Get yourself gone, Danny Carlyle—sorry,
my lord
,” she drawled outrageously.

“You can send word to me here.” He gave her one of his cards.

She took the card with one hand, and with the other put her index finger to the tip of her nose and pushed it up. “Brook Street. Fancy-pants.”

He took another pull from his ale and set it back atop the bar. Then he dropped several coins next to the battered glass. “Thank you, Odette. Take care of yourself.”

“Good to see you, Danny,” she said as he turned and departed her establishment.

He was disappointed in her lack of information, but intrigued by what she didn’t say. Still, he didn’t doubt she’d find a way to be of help. She’d use the errand boys who lodged in her rafters to go fact-finding, and Daniel would employ a few boys to do the same.

As he made his way further into the rookery, he considered whether he should speak to Aldridge. But what could he say? Aldridge would demand the return of the jewelry, and Daniel would have to abandon his inquiry. When he approached Aldridge, he had to do it armed with facts.

Jocelyn’s jewelry weighted his coat pocket. Yes, when
had
he begun to think of these items as her property? He realized then that he did believe her, not just that she thought the items were hers, but that they had indeed been stolen. He recalled the fear in her eyes, the tension in her body, the panic in her voice when they’d gone into her town house that afternoon. To have that happen once was bad enough, but twice? And she’d yet to break under the distress. She deserved to know what had happened, and he was going to find out.

Chapter Six

THE FOLLOWING afternoon, Jocelyn surveyed her mostly-tidied bedchamber. It had taken the rest of yesterday and the better part of today to clean up the feathers from the bedding and remove the ruined linens and mattress. It would be several days before the bedding could be replaced. In the meantime, she was moving into the spare bedroom, which was smaller and sported a lumpy mattress.

Moss appeared in the doorway. “Miss Renwick, Lord Carlyle is here to see you.”

Her stomach did a little flip. Just when she’d despaired, confident of a future on the shelf, he’d walked into her path—literally. And now, hope warmed her breast.

She stepped down the stairs with a jaunty bounce. Daniel—oh, she mustn’t first-name him, but what was the harm if she did so privately?—was waiting for her in the entry hall, his hat in his hand.

He smiled as his gaze lit on her, and her stomach flipped again. “Good afternoon, Miss Renwick.” Such an address sounded so formal after what they’d been through together yesterday. She was so glad he’d come upon her when he did. If she’d had to face the ruined house alone … she shuddered.

His eyes crinkled with concern, and he stepped toward the stairs as she reached the last step. “What’s wrong?”

She gave him a bright smile. “Nothing. I was just thinking how happy I am you were with me yesterday.”

His features relaxed. “I’m happy too—and relieved you were not at home when the invasion occurred.” He paused, smiling at her in return. “I was hoping you might like to take a turn around the park with me. I have a phaeton, though I have to confess that while I’ve mastered riding, I’ve yet to truly grasp the finer points of driving.”

He was so honest, so matter-of-fact, that she couldn’t help but continue to smile. She’d never met a more self-aware person. “I’m sure you’re better than you think. And good for you for mastering riding. That’s no easy feat.”

He nodded, his lips turning up at her compliment. “Thank you. The head groom at Carlyle Hall said I was a natural. I think he was trying to ensure I didn’t sack him. All the retainers tiptoed around me for a good three months before they realized I was more afraid of them than they could possibly be of me.”

She picked up her bonnet, which she’d worn earlier on her walk, from a table in the foyer. “You weren’t really afraid?”

He bowed forward as if he were imparting a deep secret. “Terrified. I’d had a cook, a housekeeper, and a butler who served as my father’s valet for a time, but the number of servants at Carlyle Hall was positively intimidating. They knew everything I didn’t, their manners put mine to shame, and I daresay a few of them might’ve been garbed better.”