His Disobedient Thief (Rakes of Mayfair Book 2)

by Melinda Barron

  “After my father died I went through his things and found four keys, with names and addresses attached to them. But they were not keys to open doors.”

  “So you broke into all four houses, including mine, to try and see where the keys fit.”

  “I have the right to make sure my father’s killer is brought to justice,” she said.

  “You don’t have the right to make yourself at home in my house,” Tristan said.

  “What should I have done, knock on the door and say, oh, can I come in and try my key in all your locks?” She slammed her fist against the wooden table. “Did you not hear me when I said the police don’t give a flying frig about my father? As far as Kelley and his lot are concerned it’s just fine to have another thief in the ground. I didn’t even have the money to bury him properly. He’s in a mass grave.”

  She was crying now, the tears she’d held back for so long streaming down her face. This time when Charlotte reached for her hand, Carin pulled away.

  “Don’t, don’t act like any of you care,” she said. “You’re just angry that I broke into Tristan’s house and got caught.”

  “If I was angry, I would have gone to the police,” Tristan said. “Last night you said you’d broken into four homes, including mine. Who lived at the other four addresses?”

  Carin shook her head. “I’m sorry, but, no. I won’t tell you. Even if you didn’t call the police, they might. Giving you their addresses is like giving a confession to the police.”

  “The paper says several homes have been burglarized lately.” Tristan leaned toward her. “Was it you?”

  “No.” She returned his look so he didn’t think he intimidated her. “I’ve never taken anything from a home. I look for locks that fit the key, or papers that have my father’s name on them. That’s all.”

  “I believe you,” Charlotte said.

  Tristan didn’t say anything, and Carin was sure that meant he was still trying to make a decision on whether she was good or evil.

  “Give us the other three names,” he said. “If they are members of society we can help you.”

  “Give me the key first,” she said. When he didn’t move, she said, “You won’t do it because you don’t trust me. Why should I trust you?”

  Their gazes locked, and for a few moments, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. Carin felt the heat from his body. For a moment, she wondered if it was anger. It was almost as if the room around them had stopped, frozen in time. No one seemed to be speaking, no one seemed to be moving.

  Then, suddenly, he reached into his pocket and took out the key. He placed it on the table between them. Carin thought about snatching it up and running for the exit, but that would make her a hypocrite. He’d done her the honor of giving her the key, showing he trusted her. She deserved to do the same for him.

  “Who were the other three?” he asked.

  “Jonathan Driscoll.”

  She took a deep breath. “Westley McCain.”

  She took another deep breath, “And Peter Flame.”

  “I’ve had no contact with any of those men,” Tristan said. “Why would my name be associated with them? It makes no sense.”

  She watched as he took a long pull on his ale. After he’d wiped his fingers over his lips, in a very proper manner, Carin thought, not as a lot of men she knew did, he said, “And you found our names in your father’s house?”

  “Not your names, just your addresses,” she said.

  “I’ve lived in my house for fifteen years,” Tristan said. “I have no clue about the other three. Dalton, do you know these men?”

  “Just by reputation,” Dalton replied. “By which I mean, just their names. None of the three have a reputation for being a gambler, or a womanizer, or anything that would make them a target for thieves, at least as far as I know.”

  “A man hired my father to do the burglaries,” she said.

  “Well, that’s a little tidbit you didn’t tell me last night,” Tristan said. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not like my father told me about his nefarious employers.”

  “But he taught you a few tricks of the trade, or else you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing.” Tristan took another pull from his mug. “You say you found the keys in your father’s personal belongings after his death?”

  “Yes,” Carin said.

  “Would there be anything else in there that you could search, anything that might give us a name?”

  “I don’t think so,” Carin said.

  “The only way to find out would be for us to look through them,” Dalton said. “How about we meet tomorrow, for dinner at Tristan’s home? And you bring the things, if they are transportable. Tristan can send a carriage for you.”

  Oh no, Carin thought, that would never work. It would mean he would know where she lived, and she would be damned if she would allow that to happen.

  “I know the address,” she said. “I can make it there on my own. There is not that much left to search through.”

  “Eight o’clock,” Tristan said. “Don’t be late.”

  His implied threat was there. If she didn’t show up he would go to the authorities.

  “I won’t be,” Carin said. And she meant it.

  Chapter 5

  Tristan stared after her. The urge to follow was strong, but he’d already made plans to find out where she lived.

  “How many men do you have outside?” Dalton asked.

  “Three.” Tristan toyed with his ale. It really was not a bad blend, and he thought about having another one. But he didn’t want to dull his senses any more. “They were here when she came in, so they could see which woman they needed to follow.”

  “You should go after her,” Charlotte said.

  “No, she will be watching for that.” Tristan took another swig from his mug. Then he signaled the server to bring him another.

  “She has worked her way into your heart,” Charlotte said.

  “No, not my heart, my nerves,” Tristan said. “I feel badly about what happened last night, because I was so…” He stopped speaking. The maid served another round and he drank a good portion of his in one hard pull.

  “You were so attracted to her,” Charlotte said. “Admit it.”

  “That’s not the point, Charlotte,” Tristan said. “I’ve already messed things up in that area. But to make it up to her I will find the person who killed her father. I swear it.”

  “You should have said those words to her,” Dalton said.

  “She would have thought I was lying,” Tristan replied. “You’re right about what she’s been through, Charlotte. She doesn’t trust anyone. Once the men find out who she is I can make some discreet inquiries and find out what she’s been through, in addition to the death of her father.”

  He took another swig, mostly to keep from talking anymore. Carin had indeed struck at his emotions. Well, not really his emotions, more at his heart. He hadn’t felt anything like this since Ava had died. The only thing that had kept him going was the fact he had Charity to care for; his daughter needed him. She’d been a part of Ava that he could keep to himself. He had done most of the job of raising her, which had angered a great many nannies who had quit because they ‘Couldn’t do their jobs properly with him putting his nose in things all the time’.

  He’d had many lovers over the years, but not one of them had produced anything near love in his life. He always made sure the ladies he was with understood that. He didn’t want to lead anyone on, make them think he was ready for marriage—would ever be ready for marriage.

  But the sensations that coursed through him now were causing trouble. He hadn’t felt them for years. It wasn’t love, of that he was sure. It was the need to help this woman, someone he barely knew, someone who had broken into his house and gone through his things. He should be angry and he was. But most of his anger was directed toward the authorities who had made her feel as if her father hadn’t matte
red. Everyone made mistakes in their lives. But surely when people were murdered, the worst criminal act of all, they deserved justice, too.

  “Where has your mind gone?” Dalton tapped the table with a finger. “Are you thinking about the spanking you gave her last night or about the three names she gave us?”

  Tristan didn’t want to let his emotions show. “I know nothing of these men, absolutely nothing. Two of them are in their sixties and don’t even attend events anymore. The last one, Peter Flame, he’s preparing for a wedding. That’s the only thing I know.”

  He frowned, which prompted Dalton to ask what he was thinking now. “What if there is a bond between the three of them?”

  “That could be. But if so, why is your name included in there?” Dalton asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “We need to make a list of questions that need answered,” Charlotte said. “Let’s do it tomorrow night when we’re with Carin. After all, this problem is hers, and yours by extension, Tristan. We’ll do it after dinner. I think I’ll ask the cook to make pork pie. I know how much you love it, Tristan.”

  “I’m salivating already,” he said with a laugh. “Now, I’m ready to go home and see what my spies bring back to me. I’ll be at your house early to deliver any news I have before Carin arrives.”

  They said their goodbyes, and once he was on his horse and headed back toward his home, Tristan felt as if he were betraying her by having the men he’d hired follow her. But then he reminded himself she’d broken into his house not once, but twice.

  Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad about following her after all. He did have another problem, and that was how to find out information about the other three men and how they linked to him. He couldn’t start asking questions without raising suspicions.

  It took him a good amount of time to get to his house, and when he was there he noticed a man lurking around the doorstep. He’d told his staff to expect someone, but he wondered what his neighbors thought about the unexpected visitor.

  He dismounted and Temple opened the front door. The butler frowned at the waiting man and Tristan held back a smile.

  “Temple, have one of the lads take my horse to the stables.” He turned to his spy. “Well?”

  “Carin Piper, sir,” he said. “According to a man who rents rooms in the same building as she does she’s a seamstress, but he doesn’t know where she works. If you want I will find out for you tomorrow.”

  Tristan took out a few pounds he had in his pocket just for this event. He handed them to the spy. “Five more if you have the name of her employer before one tomorrow afternoon.”

  “It will be my pleasure, sir,” the spy said as he took the money. “I will return before one.”

  As the man moved down the street, Tristan was sure he would be back before then, and he was sure he’d have more information to impart, if Tristan gave him more money, which he would.

  Carin ran her fingers down a beautiful gown, one that would be perfect for a ball. It was the finished product, one made for a young woman’s coming out party. Carin had worked her fingers to the bone on it, and she didn’t even know the young lady who would be wearing it.

  That’s because she spent her time in the back room, sewing. She barely made ends meet. And here she was, invited to dinner at a Duke’s house, and what was she supposed to wear? Certainly not the dress in front of her. Not only wasn’t it hers, but it was much too fine for that. But she couldn’t wear the one she wore now, or anything that she had in her wardrobe.

  She thought about canceling, telling them she couldn’t come to their house. Their servants probably dressed better than she did.

  “Be careful not to get that dress dirty,” Mrs. Thompson said as she came into the back room. “Plus, we have much to do, and you’re staring at finished products.”

  “I’m sorry, I just—it’s nothing,” Carin said. She moved toward her worktable where beautiful green material waited to be made into a dress.

  “Is something wrong, Carin?” Mrs. Thompson asked. Sometimes she could be sweet, sometimes not so much. Today was one of the good days.

  “No, I just.” She stopped talking and blew out a deep breath. She was letting far too many people in on her life nowadays. “I’m having dinner with a man tonight, and I don’t have anything to wear. I look at these beautiful dresses and I’m a little, well, a little jealous.”

  “You’ve met a man?” Mrs. Thompson’s voice was alight with interest. “I’m so happy for you. What is his name? What does he do?”

  This was just what Carin was afraid of, prying questions that would better be left unanswered. She couldn’t give the true answers. She would lie, well, just a little.

  “His name is Mal,” she said, using a shortened version of Tristan’s last name. “He is a, well, he works with law enforcement.” That was a not so subtle nod to the spanking Tristan had given her the other evening.

  “Well, you certainly can’t go dressed in that,” Mrs. Thompson said. “I have a very nice dress you can borrow. It’s a year old, so it’s not exactly in fashion, but the lady who ordered it never came to pick it up, and she paid for it in advance. Try it on and we’ll see if we need to make any adjustments. I’m sure your new friend will like it.”

  Carin wasn’t quite sure what to say, except to be suspicious as she always was. “Why would you do this?”

  “Because I like you, Carin,” she said. “You need to do more than work and go home. If I can help you impress a man it will be a good thing. Unless you marry him and quit. Don’t quit on me, Carin. I need you.”

  “As you wish,” Carin said. “Thank you so much.”

  “Let’s look at it,” Mrs. Thompson said. She pulled a box out of a cupboard and opened it up. Inside rested a blue dress with ruffles and lace.

  “It’s much too nice,” Carin said.

  “It’s beautiful,” Mrs. Thompson said as she took it out and moved it about as if to assess its condition. “We’ll need to press it, of course.”

  The only thing Carin could think about was the fact Tristan would question how she could afford the dress. Since she’d met him in Whitechapel it was certain that she didn’t have money. But she couldn’t go to a dinner with a Duke and his Duchess and look like a ragamuffin.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Thompson,” Carin said. “I’ll take good care of it.”

  “I’m sure you will, dear,” Mrs. Thompson said. “Now, let’s try it on you and see how it fits.”

  Carin felt horribly overdressed on the omnibus, and several people stared at her. She wondered what was going through their minds. It was not quite seven in the evening, and as the conveyance drew nearer to the Kensington area, she knew she should have turned down the invitation. She thought about staying on the omnibus and going back to her home.

  Tristan didn’t know how to find her, but something told her it wouldn’t take him long to hire someone to search her out. Or he would go to her not so good friend Inspector Kelley.

  “Here you are, miss,” the driver called out as he pulled the horses to a stop. “Seems there is someone waiting for you.”

  Carin looked out the small window and grimaced. Tristan stood at the corner, waiting. How did he know?

  “Thank you,” Carin said to the driver as he got out and started to help her down.

  “I’ll handle that, my good sir,” Tristan said as he offered Carin his hand. She took it and smoothed down her skirts. She had a shawl over her shoulders to hide the fact from the rest of the riders that her dress was slightly off shoulder, and showed much more cleavage than she was used to.

  Tristan handed the man a coin. “Shall I come back and pick the young miss up later?” the driver asked Tristan.

  “No need,” Tristan said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “As you wish, sir.” The driver got up, flicked the reins and the omnibus started to move.

  “How did you know I would come this way?” she asked.

  “How else would you do it?” he asked.
“You left so quickly last night I couldn’t tell you I would send a carriage. Of course, I would have needed an address to send the carriage.”

  “Shall we go?” Carin asked, ignoring his obvious request for her place of residence. “Are the Duke and Duchess already there?”

  That sounded so strange to her. She was about to have dinner with a Duke and Duchess. Her, Carin, the daughter of a thief.

  “They are,” Tristan said. He offered her his arm, and she took it as if she’d done it a million times in her life.

  As they started down the street she kept one hand on the shawl pieces, to keep it held together.

  “That’s a very lovely dress,” he said.

  It’s not mine, she wanted to blurt out. Instead she said, ‘Thank you.”

  Mrs. Thompson had done her hair, and even loaned her a pair of slippers that were just a bit too snug. They hurt her toes as she walked, but she supposed it was worth it so she would be appropriately dressed.

  When they reached his townhouse, he put his hand on the small of her back as she preceded him up the stairs. It was a most intimate touch, and she hadn’t felt anything like it in so long, she thought.

  But then she remembered him spanking her, taking her over his lap and punishing her bare skin. Of course, she’d felt something like it, despite the fact Mark had been gone for so long.

  The door opened as if by magic, and when Carin went inside she was surprised, even though she should have thought of it, to see a butler waiting to take her wrap.

  Did the servants know she’d been in the house? Did they know she was a burglar? The butler bowed to her, and she wanted to say he didn’t need to do that. After all, she was just a lowly working person like him.

  Tristan helped her with her wrap, and she wanted to ask if she could keep it. But neither man said a thing and Tristan held his hand out in front of him and said, “This way. My cook has made us a very light repast, some cold meats and breads, some cheese and a few vegetables. We will serve ourselves form the sideboard, and then sit and discuss our business while we eat. Very informal.”