The Gentleman Thief Page 2

  If Georgiana had thought the man too full of himself to have noticed her presence, she was sadly mistaken, for even as he spoke warmly of her, his gaze drifted tellingly to her bosom. And for a religious man, he was studying her a little too avidly for her taste. “You must excuse me,” she said abruptly, and hurried off into the crowd before he could launch into another lengthy discourse.

  After slipping through the assemblage, keeping her eyes and ears attuned to anything of interest, Georgiana halted behind a tall potted plant, a large fern of some sort, where she listened to several conversations, all of them exceedingly dull. At last, growing restless, she was about to depart when there was a shuffling nearby and the sound of whispered voices, which, as everyone knew, invariably signaled something interesting.

  Moving unobtrusively closer, Georgiana peered through the greenery in an effort to catch a glimpse of the speakers. She saw a rather sturdy looking gentleman with a sadly receding hairline whom she immediately recognized at Lord Whalsey, a middle-aged viscount. Rumor had it that he was dangling for a rich wife among those who came to Bath, and, indeed, he was a popular one with the ladies, if a bit full of himself. As she peeked under a particularly large leaf, Georgiana could see him hunched next to a younger man with a rather pinched face, and the two appeared terribly serious. She leaned closer.

  “Well? Do you have it?” Whalsey asked, his voice betraying an agitation that immediately seized Georgiana’s attention.

  “Er, not exactly,” the other man hedged.

  “What the devil? I thought you were going to get it tonight! Demn, Cheever, you swore you could manage this, you—”

  “Hold on there,” the man called Cheever said in a placating tone. “You shall have it all right. There’s been a complication, that’s all.”

  “What kind of complication?” Whalsey spat. “And it better not cost me more!”

  “Well, I’ve run into a bit of difficulty locating it.”

  “What do you mean?” Whalsey cried. “You know very well where it is! That’s why we came to this deadly dull backwater!”

  “Of course, it’s here, but it’s not lying about in plain view, now is it? I’ve got to make a search for it, and I haven’t had a chance because some bloody idiot’s always around!”

  Forgetting about Ashdowne, Georgiana held her breath and stuck her head right into the foliage.

  “Who?” Whalsey asked.

  “The servants!”

  “Well, tonight’s your chance, you dolt! What are you doing standing here?”

  “I might as well enjoy a bit of the evening while I’m out, mightn’t I?” Cheever said smoothly. “It hardly seems fair that you’re dancing and frolicking while I’m doing the dirty work!”

  Whalsey’s face turned florid, and he opened his mouth as if to shout, but, to Georgiana’s disappointment, he appeared to recover himself, lowering his voice until she had to strain to hear. “If you’re angling for more money, I told you I haven’t a penny to—”

  Frustrated by the inaudible words, Georgiana leaned forward a little too far. The plant, berthed in an elegant urn, tipped slightly and, caught in its growth, she too swayed precariously. With a low gasp, she reached for a heavy leaf, hoping to right both the shrub and herself, but lost her balance. For one moment, Georgiana seemed to hang in the air, staring at the horrified faces of Lord Whalsey and Cheever.

  So intent was she upon the fleeing twosome as they hurried away that Georgiana did not see the other man approaching. Only after she veered violently in the other direction in an attempt to regain her footing did she glimpse him. And then, of course, it was too late. Both she and the wretched plant toppled directly into him, sending all three of them to the floor in a heap.

  Vaguely Georgiana heard startled gasps from around her as she struggled to separate herself from the thick leaves. She was on the carpet, her legs all tangled up with those of the man who lay beneath her, and her gown had risen scandalously to expose her ankles. Worst of all, she had missed hearing more about the nefarious plot she was certain the two men were hatching. Botheration!

  Blowing away a fat curl, Georgiana pushed off the floor in an effort to sit, only to hear a pained grunt from below as her knee connected with a certain portion of male anatomy. With a cry of dismay, Georgiana jerked upward, but she was stopped by her twisted skirts and fell forward once more.

  More gasps went up from around her and then Georgiana felt firm hands upon her waist as she lifted her head only to recoil in horror at the face that came into view. Dark brows were no longer raised in arrogance but lowered in a disturbing manner that made the elegant features below them appear rather fierce, while that compelling mouth twisted into something resembling a snarl. “For God’s sake, stop wiggling!” he said.

  “Ashdowne!” Georgiana breathed. She had a moment to blink in alarm before the hands at her waist lifted her effortlessly upward and then they were both upright, the marquis setting her on her feet. She took a faltering step backward, but he held on to her, and Georgiana suddenly became aware of the heat generated by his touch. Like fire, it burned through the thin silk she wore, igniting her skin and sending warmth rushing throughout her body.

  Curious. Georgiana glanced at her companion and stared, transfixed. He was just that much more beautiful up close, his eyes so blue as to make her own seem insipid instead of limpid, and Georgiana felt an odd dipping sensation in the pit of her stomach. As she gaped, he released her and stepped back, his handsome face wearing an expression of extreme annoyance as he raised one slender hand to brush a smattering of dirt from his elegant silk waistcoat. To her dismay, the marquis was looking at her as if she were an irritating bug he would like to squash—or at least be rid of.

  Jolted from her stupor by the realization, Georgiana muttered her apologies in a hushed whisper that sounded like the breathless nonsense of a swooning admirer. And then, Georgiana, who thought herself past the age of blushes, felt a fiery stain rise in her cheeks as embarrassment claimed her. She was not one of those marriage-mad misses, and she desperately sought the words to convey that to his lordship. But her halting excuse was cut short by the arrival of her mother, along with two servants, who hurried to clean up the spilled soil.

  “Georgie!” Wincing at the sound of her pet name called out loudly, Georgiana did not hear Ashdowne’s murmured platitude. And before she could question him, he tilted his head and moved away, as if all too relieved to quit her company. To her dismay, Georgiana found herself surrounded by her mother and her sisters, while he disappeared into the crowd.

  “Georgie! What on earth were you doing—inspecting the shrubbery?” her mama asked, eyeing the nearby plant as if it ought to explain itself. When it did not, she turned to her daughter.

  “Lovely girl, but not too graceful, I fear.” Her father’s booming voice made Georgiana grimace, as did the titters of her sisters. Must her whole family make so much of this?

  “Are you all right, Miss Bellewether?” As if things were not bad enough, Mr. Nichols had found her again. And how could he not, considering the spectacle she had made of herself? “I say, one can hardly move in this dreadful squeeze, and to clutter the floor with obstacles…” He shook his head, his gaze drifting down her wrinkled clothes to her ankle. Hastily Georgiana smoothed her gown and sighed as her mother urged her to a nearby chair and Mr. Nichols forced upon her the ice that was now sadly warm.

  While they fussed, Georgiana fought the urge to leap to her feet and flee their attentions. Worse yet, she felt as if all eyes in the room were upon her—a terrible prospect for someone who was trying to be unobtrusive. She had bungled royally—and just when she was finally hearing something interesting.

  Scowling with exasperation, Georgiana waved her mother away and searched the crowd for any sign of Lord Whalsey and his cohort, but all she saw was Ashdowne. Although he appeared to be speaking with the hostess, his eyes were on her, his mouth curved in condemnation as if he held her entirely responsible for the recent debacle.
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  Botheration! She had not asked for his help, nor had she even seen him tendering it, so he could hardly blame her if his efforts went awry. She would have done better without him, she thought, her cheeks flaming, and she had a notion to tell him so, but her opportunity for dialogue had once again slipped away. And it was all her own fault!

  A Bow Street Runner would not have gaped like a schoolroom miss at a pretty visage, but would have made the most of the chance encounter, asking Ashdowne what he was doing in Bath, judging his answers and slyly maneuvering him into an admission of…something. Georgiana wasn’t sure what exactly, but she was determined to find out.

  She glanced toward the subject of her musings and nearly started in surprise, for he was gone once again, Lady Culpepper now being deep in conversation with a turbaned matron. Amazed, Georgiana blew out a breath, disturbing one of her curls, and shook her head. The man seemed to appear and disappear in an instant, and she decided it was a good thing she was not given to whimsy, or she might suspect him of preternatural abilities.

  “…like limpid pools.” The sound of Mr. Nichols’s voice brought her attention back to him, and, pasting a smile upon her face, Georgiana tried to show more forbearance than was her wont. She managed the task for a few minutes before abandoning her efforts and excusing herself.

  Telling her mother that she needed to freshen up after the mishap, Georgiana instead roamed the room looking for Whalsey and Cheever, to no avail. When she caught a glimpse of Mr. Hawkins bearing down upon her with grim intent, she fled out into the garden, where she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  The night air was scented with the spring flowers that lined secluded walkways, lit only by the glorious display of stars overhead. Another young lady might have found magic in the evening, but not Georgiana. She wondered who was out there in the darkness. Had Whalsey and his cohort adjourned to a more private location to discuss their suspicious business? Only Georgiana’s innate good sense prevented her from indulging her curiosity and slipping onto the paths herself.

  With a sigh, she cursed the gender that made her prey to the designs of men and subject to the confining strictures of society. A Bow Street Runner could easily go wherever he wanted, whether a midnight garden or the seediest neighborhood in London. Ah, what a wonderful life, she thought, never pausing to wonder how such a fellow would manage to gain entry to a party such as this one. She spent long, delightful minutes enjoying the illustrious career that could have been hers, if only she had been born a man.

  Georgiana might have remained there forever, lost in pleasant musings, if not for a loud giggle that erupted behind one of the nearby shrubs. With a sigh, she decided it was time to return to the party before she saw the kind of assignation that was of no interest to her—the romantic sort. No doubt her mother was searching for her, for it was growing late, and the rather staid Bellewether party would be heading home soon.

  With one last glance at the dark lawn, Georgiana turned and slipped through the French doors into the reception room, prepared to find her family, when a bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Stunned, she turned toward the sound and caught sight of the hostess, Lady Culpepper, rushing down the main staircase, accompanied by the turbaned matron she had seen earlier.

  Both women looked distraught, and Georgiana hurried forward. She reached the bottom of the steps just in time to hear the turbaned woman babble something about a necklace, and then the cry went up, carried through the crowd faster than any wildfire: “Lady Culpepper’s famous emeralds have been stolen.”

  As news of the theft flew through the reception room, the rest of the house and, presumably, all of Bath, Georgiana, who had refused to budge until she heard the whole of it, was privy to the first breathless report of the turbaned woman she later identified as Mrs. Higgott.

  Weeding through the babbling to the bare facts of the matter, Georgiana learned that the two women had been discussing Lady Culpepper’s jewelry when Mrs. Higgott expressed admiration for the emerald necklace, well-known among the ton as the pride of her collection. Lady Culpepper, either graciously or vainly, offered to show off the piece and the two went to her bedroom, where they found the jewel case open upon the bed, the piece in question gone and the window open.

  Since a servant had been stationed in the hall outside the door all evening, it was assumed that the thief somehow managed to scale the side of the building, a feat that engendered nearly as much talk as the burglary itself. Although Georgiana forced her brother Bertrand to accompany her on a tour of the grounds afterward, there was nothing to be seen in the darkness, and all her efforts to question the two women were turned aside. Indeed, the party quickly broke up out of consideration for Lady Culpepper’s terrible loss, with everyone expressing shock at the commission of such a crime in quiet Bath.

  Everyone, that is, except Georgiana.

  Chapter Two

  Thrilled at the first true challenge to her abilities, Georgiana rose early the morning after the incident and seated herself at the rosewood writing desk in the drawing room, where she put to paper every detail she could recall of the evening and the company. Unfortunately, she had been unable to view the scene or question the principles, but she was very thankful to have been present during the actual theft.

  The mystery itself was a positively splendid one, not your average crime, but obviously a well thought out and daring perpetration, and Georgiana smiled absently as she made note of that which she deemed important. The time, of course, was of interest. When had Lady Culpepper last been in the room before returning with Mrs. Higgott? And what of the servant outside the room? Had he heard nothing? Was he truly there all night, or had he left his post?

  And what of the room itself? Did it open onto any others? Georgiana would dearly love to look for any clues the thief had left behind, including the jewel case itself. From what she could understand from the two women’s ramblings, the container had been left behind, despite the gems that remained inside it.

  Georgiana frowned. Why steal just the necklace? Had the thief been pressed for time, or hindered by what he could carry with him? A man who scaled the exterior wall could not be hampered with a bulky parcel, but Georgiana found it difficult to believe that someone had gone to such lengths to gain entry. Perhaps the fellow had tossed up a rope, she thought. Uncertain of the logistics of that sort of thing, she vowed to ask Bertrand. And she fully intended to view the building in the daylight.

  If only she could see the room itself! Something about the open jewel box sounded familiar, but, unable to place the memory, Georgiana made a quick note of it and then pulled out another sheet of foolscap upon which to name her suspects. Her hand nearly trembled with the force of her excitement, for here not only was a challenge to her skills, but an opportunity. If she could solve this puzzle and present the culprit’s name to the authorities, she might finally receive the respect she craved.

  Resting her chin on a hand, Georgiana smiled dreamily as she imagined the accolades due her, especially if she managed to recover the stolen jewels! More important than praise, however, was the possibility that she could make a name for herself, and she enthusiastically pictured a future filled with investigations as people from all over the country came to consult her, Georgiana Bellewether.

  Heaving a sigh of delight at such pleasant fantasies, Georgiana nevertheless turned her attention back to the task at hand, for she must first determine the identity of the man who had taken Lady Culpepper’s necklace. Although the burglar might be someone unknown to her, a member of the criminal community who had lain in wait for his chance, logic argued against it. No common cutpurse would rob a house on a night when it was filled to brimming with guests and servants.

  Whoever had done the deed did not waste time ransacking other rooms, but knew just where to go to find his prize. Georgiana abruptly dropped her hand and lifted her chin as the conversation she had overheard behind the plant came to mind. She had known from their whispers that Lord Whalsey and Mr. Cheever were plottin
g something nefarious, but little did she imagine the two men capable of a crime of such epic proportions!

  With a grim expression, Georgiana tried to copy down everything the two had said, including Mr. Cheever’s complaint that he was hampered in his efforts to “get it” by the presence of servants. Oh, it was really all too simple, Georgiana thought, and as visions of acclaim once more rose to mind, she placed Mr. Cheever and the man who hired him first upon her list.

  But, as promising as the two men were, Georgiana still intended to consider all possibilities, and so she wondered just who else at the house that night might be responsible. The culprit could be a servant, she thought, though such instances were rare, and who among them during the busy party would have found time to scale the building? She wished that she might question those in Lady Culpepper’s employ in order to obtain all pertinent information.

  As to the guests, Georgiana found it difficult to name too many candidates among the genteel inhabitants of Bath. Most she deemed not clever enough to pull off such a scheme, while others were too honest and bland to suddenly take up a life of crime. But as she thought of all those simple faces, Georgiana suddenly remembered the vicar and his vocal contempt for the wealthy. Frowning, she wondered if the good cleric could have managed to steal the necklace. The venom in his words had disturbed her and, without hesitation, she counted him as her second suspect.

  Once more, considering everyone she had seen, Georgiana easily dismissed the dowagers, the gouty old men and the young ladies as incapable of entering and escaping through the window. No, the culprit was definitely someone agile, slender but with the strength to climb, graceful undoubtedly, and…dressed all in black?

  Georgiana’s eyes narrowed as an image of Ashdowne, dark and elegant, filled her mind. Ashdowne, who seemingly appeared and disappeared at will, certainly looked as if he could do anything, including scale the side of a building, and his strength had been evident in the way he lifted her with ease off his prone body. The memory made Georgiana flush with an unwelcome heat, as did the knowledge that the handsome nobleman had reduced her to a yammering ninny.