Lady Thief

by Kay Hooper

  “I don’t mind, of course. Just remember that she isn’t aware you know she’s the Cat.”

  Brummell smiled gently. “I also have a fancy to see her face when I tell her that.”

  Jenny looked up with a smile when Somers announced the duke and Mr. Brummell. She was alone in the drawing room, Lady Beddington and Meg having gone to rest for a soiree they were to attend that evening. Since Jenny had been expecting the duke, she had remained downstairs.

  When greetings had been exchanged, and Mr. Brummell and the duke seated, the Beau immediately spoke. He could see that Jenny was anxious to know if the duke had discovered anything about a traitor, and wanted her to know that she could speak freely in his presence.

  “Miss Courtenay, I feel perhaps I should tell you that I know all about the Cat.”

  “You what . . . ?” Jenny asked faintly.

  “I know you are the Cat.”

  She cast a rather helpless look at Spencer. The duke smile ruefully. “He heard us arguing at Lady Jersey’s ball.”

  “Oh.” Jenny stared at Brummell. “I—I know what you must think of me, sir—”

  “I think, Miss Courtenay, that you are a remarkable young woman. I know of no other who would have had the strength of will to search so long and so hard for a dangerous killer and traitor.”

  A soft flush rose to pinken her cheeks. Her eyes wide with surprise, she said, “I—I don’t know what to say, Mr. Brummell.”

  “Say nothing, Miss Courtenay.” The Beau smiled gently. “I only ask that you allow me to participate in this adventure of yours. To a small degree, that is.”

  Jenny smiled. “By all means, Mr. Brummell.” She looked rueful. “But I cannot help but wonder exactly how many others are in possession of my ‘secret.’”

  “Mama knows.”

  All eyes turned to the doorway, where Meg stood. A slight blush covered her cheeks. She closed the door and slowly advanced into the room. Nodding rather shyly to the two gentlemen, she said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, Jenny.”

  Jenny waved her to a chair and said, “That’s all right, Meg. But what did you mean about Mama?”

  “She knows,” Meg replied simply. “She’s known all along.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Before we left Kent, Mama asked me to try to convince you to be careful. She said she had known from the start that you were the Cat, and that she was afraid for you.”

  “She never said a word,” Jenny murmured.

  Meg smiled. “She told me you were exactly like your father. That you possessed a sort of—fearless courage.”

  “Meg, why didn’t you tell me that Mama knew?”

  “You’ve been so worried, Jenny. I knew it would upset you, and you had enough on your mind.”

  Wryly, Jenny responded, “Then why tell me now?”

  Meg looked surprised. “Well, because of the duke, of course.”

  Jenny shot a look at Spencer. “What do you mean by that?”

  Meg blushed again. “Now that the two of you are reconciled, you won’t be alone anymore, Jenny. The duke will take care of you—and you won’t worry as much.”

  With an amused glance at the duke, Jenny said, “Well, I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

  “I thought of that myself,” Spencer said gravely. “However, Miss Ross, your stepsister seems determined not to share her problems with me.”

  “Well, you know all about the Cat, and if that isn’t a problem, I don’t know what is,” Jenny exclaimed.

  “What about the informer?” asked the duke.

  “Oh—that.”

  “Yes, that. Who informed against you, Jenny? And don’t tell me you don’t know, because I won’t believe it. If you didn’t know who it was, you would be moving heaven and earth to find out.”

  Jenny look uncomfortable. “I believe I told you once, Nick, that you think too much.”

  “Who is the informer, Jenny?”

  Abruptly, Meg rose to her feet and headed for the door. “Go ahead and tell them, Jenny—I’ve already guessed.” The door closed behind her.

  Spencer looked rather grimly at Jenny. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  Jenny sighed wearily. “Sir George informed against me. He told me so himself.”

  Mr. Brummell, who had been silent until now, frowned and asked, “Your stepfather?”

  “Yes. He wants to be free of me. He seemed quite delighted at the thought that I would hang.”

  Spencer looked furious. “When I get my hands on that man, he’ll wish he’d never been born.”

  Jenny laughed softly. “Never mind. I’ve been handling Sir George for years—I managed to squash his threats.”

  “How?” It was Brummell, his gray eyes curious.

  She grinned, her eyes alight with amusement. With a sidelong glance at the duke, she said demurely, “I played on his sense of greed. I told him that I was trying to catch a duke, and that he should go back to Kent and leave me alone. He was quite happy to do so—envisioning a substantial marriage settlement, I’ve no doubt.”

  “I’ll be damned if he gets one cent,” the duke declared roundly. “I’ll see to it that your mother receives the settlement.”

  “Can you do that?” Jenny asked curiously.

  “Yes,” Spencer said flatly. “I can and will.”

  “Oh.” Jenny looked at him thoughtfully. “If you can do that—perhaps you can help me with another of my problems.”

  “Which one?” asked the duke wryly.

  “Do you think that you could persuade Sir George to consent to Meg’s marriage to Robert?”

  Spencer smiled. “It will be my pleasure. As soon as we’ve caught the killer, I’ll post down to Kent and have a little—talk with him.”

  “Famous! Then that takes care of everything but the killer. Nick, did you find out anything at the War Office?”

  “Not a thing. They are being very careful at the War Office these days with so many documents having been stolen and shifted around in the past months. I talked to Richard Standen, but he couldn’t help me. He couldn’t remember anyone who might have heard your father talk about a traitor.”

  Ruefully, Jenny said, “I suppose the Cat is their primary suspect.”

  “On the contrary,” Spencer smiled at her, “the general feeling is that the Cat is searching for traitors. Half the War Office believes that the Cat should be given a medal for her services.”

  “And the other half?” Jenny asked.

  He laughed. “The other half believes she should be made queen.”

  Jenny and the Beau joined Spencer in laughter. With a gasp, Jenny said, “I hope they don’t offer me the job—I have enough problems as it is!” She looked faintly puzzled. “But how did they know I was searching for traitors?”

  Calmly, the duke said, “I told them you were when I returned those dispatches.”

  She nodded. “I had forgotten all about those.”

  “Dispatches?” Brummell looked curious.

  Jenny nodded again. “A highwayman friend of mine took the dispatches from a coach that he held up. He gave them to me, and I gave them to Nick.”

  “A highwayman? What very strange friends you have, to be sure.”

  “Jason has been a very good friend to me,” she responded firmly, “and I mean to see that he receives part of the credit for catching the killer—when we catch him, that is.”

  Spencer sighed. “You see what I’m letting myself in for, George? Highwayman!”

  “At least she isn’t dull,” the Beau said in a consoling tone.

  Jenny looked from one to the other. “Well, really!” she exclaimed.

  Spencer’s eyes laughed in a solemn face. “Why do I have the feeling that my life from this point on will become filled with missing dispatches, highwaymen, spies, troubled young lovers, infamous stepfathers, and Bow Street Runners?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Jenny stared carefully into space, “how you could possibly think
such a thing.”

  “The idea suggested itself when I saw two Runners hiding in the shrubbery when we came in.”

  Jenny fought to keep from laughing. “You mean Simmons and his talkative friend.”

  “The very same. Jenny, how have you been able to slip past them? The Cat has held up at least three coaches since they started watching the house.”

  Correcting him, Jenny said, “Five. And it hasn’t been easy, believe me.”

  Brummell started to smile. “You mean to say that you have been coming and going beneath the noses of two Bow Street Runners?”

  Jenny grinned. “Luckily for me, Simmons has caught a dreadful cold from—er—hiding in the shrubbery.”

  Brummell laughed. “Why is that lucky for you?”

  “He sneezes occasionally, you know.”

  Brummell had to struggle to maintain his air of casual nonchalance. “I didn’t realize how accurate my statement was,” he finally managed to say. “You certainly are not dull.”

  Spencer had dropped his head into his hands. “She was born to be hanged,” he said in a voice of despair.

  He then raised his head and gave Jenny a thundering scold on the subject of foolish young women who behave in a manner quite unsuited to their stations in life.

  Jenny listened to these strictures with an air of great interest, before saying reproachfully, “But, Nick, I’ve been very careful.”

  The duke sighed and rose to his feet. “Come along, George—if I remain here a moment longer, I shall be tempted to strangle her.”

  The two gentlemen took their leave, and Jenny enjoyed a quiet laugh.

  Outside, the duke and Mr. Brummell passed the concealed Runners just in time to hear a muffled sneeze. With a wink at the Beau, Spencer said loudly, “You should take care of that cold, Simmons.”

  The bushes parted, and a startled face peered after the departing gentlemen.

  Chapter Twenty

  Several days later, as Spencer drove his curricle toward Lady Beddington’s house, he noticed a large man just stepping outside. There was a nagging familiarity about the man. He was dressed neatly, but more like a merchant or an innkeeper than a gentleman.

  Spencer frowned and tried to peer round a coach that blocked his view. When the coach moved away, the man had disappeared. Spencer halted his curricle in front of the house and motioned for his tiger to go to the horses’ heads. A moment later, he knocked on the door, still frowning.

  The butler answered the knock, his forbidding face softening into something resembling a smile when he saw the duke. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  “ ’Afternoon, Somers.” His frown disappeared. “Is Miss Courtenay in?”

  Somers stepped back to allow the duke to enter. “Yes, Your Grace; Miss Courtenay is in the Red Room.” He made as if to lead the way, but the duke stopped him with a gesture.

  “I know the way.” He gave the butler a conspiratorial smile. “You don’t need to announce me.”

  Somers returned the smile, an understanding gleam in his eyes. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Spencer made his way to the Red Room and knocked softly on the door before entering. Jenny was standing at the window, her head bowed.

  The duke looked searchingly at her still, silent figure. “Jenny?”

  She started in surprise and turned to face him. “Nick. I—I didn’t hear you come in.” Her voice was strained, her eyes burning in an unnaturally pale face.

  He quickly crossed the room to stand before her. “Jenny, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  She glazed down at her clasped hands. “John came to see me. He just left.”

  Spencer remembered the stranger he had seen, and suddenly realized why he had seemed familiar. “Yes, I saw him leave. What did he say, Jenny?”

  “He brought me a message from Jason.”

  “The highwayman?”

  “Yes.” She raised her eyes to his, a queer blind look in them. “I told you—Jason has been trying to help me find Papa’s killer. He’s the one who took the dispatches I gave you.”

  “I remember.” He nodded. “The dispatches from Wellesley.”

  “He’s been trying to find that man again. I was hoping he’s the man I’m searching for . . .” Her voice trailed off. After a moment, she continued quietly. “He found the man. Nick—it’s Stoven.”

  “Stoven!” Spencer frowned. “Jenny, are you sure?”

  “That he’s a traitor? Yes. That he’s my father’s murderer? I don’t know.” She shook her head slowly. “But if he is—Nick, he offered for me. How could he do that if he killed my father? How could he look me in the face and swear that he loved me?”

  Spencer smiled faintly. “Perhaps he did. You’re very easy to love.”

  She managed a faint smile. “Nevertheless, I must know for certain.” She stared out the window with a frown. “I’ll have to hold up his coach.”

  Spencer did not seem at all pleased with her remark. “Jenny, if Stoven is a traitor, and if he is your father’s killer, he’s a very dangerous man. Is there no other way?”

  She stared up at him, her face grave. “Nick, I must find out if he has the ring. He doesn’t wear it, but I suspect that he carries it on him somewhere.”

  He sighed. “If you’re determined to rob him, I intend to go along.”

  A flicker of amusement showed in her eyes. “Nick, you aren’t a thief.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “Yes, but you’re a duke.”

  He looked startled. “What has that to say to anything?”

  “Dukes don’t rob coaches.”

  “Jenny—” He shook his head with a laugh. “Nor, let me remind you, do ladies.”

  She responded gravely. “I never said that I was a lady.”

  He laughed again and drew her into his arms. “Lady or no, you are soon to be a duchess. Do duchesses rob coaches?”

  She smiled up at him. “I have no idea. Shall we find that out for ourselves?”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Though, for now, I believe I have a better one.”

  She looked innocent. “Oh? And what is that?”

  He bent his head toward hers. Just before their lips met, he murmured, “Deeds—not words.”

  By dint of a few careless questions, Spencer managed to discover that Stoven planned a trip to his estate at the end of the week. The estate was outside London on a little-traveled road, and the earl, who had a penchant for night travel, planned to set out just after dark.

  Jenny and the duke agreed that the time and place were right, and they made plans to hold up Stoven’s coach on Friday night. Jenny sent word to John to have the black stallion—and Jason—standing by.

  It remained only for them to while away the rest of the week, which they did in a very agreeable fashion. The ton grew accustomed to seeing the two of them together, either riding or driving about in the duke’s curricle. They were observed walking in the park; they danced every dance together at Lady Catherine’s ball; they were seen at the theater; and they graced Lady Jersey’s masquerade by appearing as Cleopatra and Marc Antony. Jenny had toyed with the idea of appearing as the Cat, but her devoted duke had threatened dire consequences.

  Society, never slow on the uptake, had gotten wind of their unofficial understanding, and they eagerly awaited word of a betrothal. They waited in vain. The couple had no intention of announcing their plans until a certain traitorous murderer had been brought to justice.

  On Friday evening, Spencer and Jenny met outside a tawdry inn about a mile from Stoven’s estate. The duke’s first words upon entering the dilapidated structure were: “For God’s sake, Jenny—this building looks as though it’s about to fall on our heads!”

  Jenny set her lantern down on a rickety table and grinned at him. “When in Rome . . .”

  He stared at her. In a considering tone, he said, “If this is the type of place you’ve become accustomed to during the past year, I don’t think I want to meet your hig
hwayman friend. He’s very likely a cutthroat.”

  She laughed. “Jason’s a hard man, but I wouldn’t call him a cutthroat. He’s been a great deal of help to me, Nick, and I want you to meet him.”

  Spencer smiled ruefully. “I suppose you mean to invite him to the wedding.”

  “Oh, no.” She grinned wryly. “He’d be most uncomfortable. But, I do hope he’ll come to us any time he needs help.” She stepped toward her love and gazed up at him with a coaxing smile. “Nick, do you think we could do something for him? So he could stop being a highwayman?”

  Spencer stared down at her, bemused. After a moment, he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know when you’re more dangerous—when you’re wearing that mask and holding a pistol, or when you’re practicing your womanly wiles.”

  “Could we?” Jenny refused to be sidetracked.

  “I suppose we could. Would he accept money?”

  “Not from you or I.” She smiled brilliantly. “But if we could arrange for a reward—for helping to capture a traitor—I’m sure he’d accept that.”

  Spencer nodded. “Very well. I’ll see what I can do.” Jenny threw her arms about him and was about to give him a strong indication of how grateful she was when she was interrupted by a loud cough from the doorway.

  Jason stood on the threshold, having just arrived. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he said uncomfortably, “but I brought the horse.”

  Jenny turned to face him. “Jason, I wondered where you were. You’re late.”

  Keeping a wary eye on the duke, Jason responded irritably, “I wouldn’t have made it here at all if that horse of yours would have had his way. That animal ought to be shot. Damn near took my arm off at least a dozen times.”

  Jenny frowned. “I told John to put a muzzle on him.”

  Jason nodded. “Aye—and so he did. Took that devil about half a mile to chew his way through it.”

  “I do apologize for my unmannerly beast, Jason.” Jenny smiled at him and then indicated the duke. “This is Nick—the man I told you about.”

  The two men eyed each other for a moment, and then Spencer held out his hand. “Glad to meet you, Jason.”