by Laura Landon
Jack’s usual control fled. He opened his mouth and deepened his kiss. The passion surging through him built in silent furor, and her desperation matched his own. All thought fled as he merely existed within the tenderness of it.
Overtaken by the reaction of his own senses, he moved his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. A kiss had always been a thing of wonder to him, but this…this was enchanting. He’d never kissed a woman like he was kissing Lily. And he’d never been kissed like Lily was kissing him. It was a devastatingly wonderful expression of acceptance.
And need.
Somewhere in the silence, a keening whisper drifted between them, and Jack drew slightly away. Lily brought gloved fingers to her lips as she separated herself from him. She drifted unsteadily and Jack reached out to her. He knew he was the cause of her unbalance. The kiss they’d shared had stolen her breath as it had stolen his.
“Are you all right?”
Her reddening cheeks framed her swollen lips. Her breath escaped unevenly and her body trembled.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she said when her fluster began to fade.
“I think you’re correct,” he answered her. “But it’s impossible to pretend it didn’t happen. And it’s too late to undo what’s already done.”
A look of fear covered Lily’s face, then changed to open regret. Jack knew she’d take back the kiss they’d shared if she could, but that was impossible. Their kiss had made too great an impact on both of them.
He smiled as she reached out to the nearest piece of furniture to steady herself as she made her way across the room. It was obvious she wanted to flee. And yet, he knew if he’d reach out to take her in his arms again, she’d come willingly.
Jack filled a glass with brandy and handed it to her. “Come, sit down.”
She did, but avoided the sofa and took a single chair. He poured himself a brandy and sat down across from her. Taking her mind off that kiss was imperative. If only he could do the same.
“You have an idea who the thief is, don’t you?”
She hesitated as if she wanted to lie to him, then thought better of her idea. She nodded.
“Who do you think it was?”
“I’m quite certain it was Grady Rankin. He has a haunt in Whitechapel. Everyone knows he’s the best pickpocket and sleight of hand master there is, and he always boasts that the nobs who want something stolen call on him to get their baubles back. For a healthy fee, naturally. He has a tattoo of an arrow on his hand right where Mary said she saw it.”
“Can you take me to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“In the first place, he won’t talk to you. And neither will anyone else in Whitechapel. In the second place, you’ll more than likely end up dead.”
“Then how are we going to find out anything?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“You!”
“Yes. He may not speak to me, but at least I won’t end up dead.”
“Are you sure?”
Lily smiled at him. “He used to call me Princess, Jack. Yes, I’m sure.”
“You knew him?” Jack’s tone was incredulous. But that was to be expected. People in his circle didn’t speak of Whitechapel as a place any of them might frequent.
Jack saw the wheels churning in her head. She was already planning her trip to Whitechapel. “Promise me you’ll take your brother with you.”
“I don’t need anyone to go with me.”
“Don’t be absurd, Lily. Promise me you will,” he repeated, his demand seeming to annoy her.
Lily breathed a heavy sigh, then answered him. “All right. I’ll take Liam with me,” she said, but Jack could see she was lying. She didn’t intend to take anyone with her, but would go by herself.
“When will you go?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. I can’t go tonight, so perhaps tomorrow. Or the next day.”
An eager expression crept across her face as she began to make mental plans, and Jack suddenly knew she wouldn’t wait two days to seek out Rankin. She’d no doubt go tomorrow, and he had every intention of forcing her to take him with her.
BEHOLD THE THIEF by Laura Landon
Chapter Eight
Lily watched from the drawing room window until Jack Broadmoore’s carriage rolled away down the street. She had no doubt that if he even suspected her plan he would take swift measures to make sure she stayed inside and didn’t go to Whitechapel tonight. The last thing she wanted was for him to follow her there. If he did, there was a good chance that neither of them would make it out alive.
When she was sure he was headed in the direction of his shop, she turned to the stairs. She had to change into the Bonnie disguise, then walk the few blocks to her own town house where Plunkett had taken up residence in the mews. He wasn’t expecting her to need the costermonger’s cart tonight.
As she stepped on the first stair, however, Liam’s voice stopped her.
“What’s wrong, Lily?”
Lily turned to find Liam standing in the open doorway to his study. He must have seen her watching out the drawing room window. Her first instinct was to deny anything was wrong, but on second thought she decided it was wise to let him know what had happened tonight. She walked past him and entered the study. Before she sat, she poured herself a glass of brandy. She had a feeling she’d need it before this night was over. Liam took a chair by the fireplace next to her and nursed his own drink.
“You know I bought the two Qing vases.”
“Yes. Congratulations.”
“Well, congratulations would be in order if the two vases I collected at the end of the night were the same vases I bid on.”
Liam sat forward. “What are you saying?”
“After the bidding was closed, someone replaced the Qing vases with replicas.”
“What? Who? Did anyone see anything suspicious?”
Lily took a swallow of her brandy, then nodded. “One of the workers noticed a man hovering near the pedestal where they were displayed. He was dressed in evening clothes, but he didn’t look comfortable in them. I think it’s because he’d just switched the vases and was adjusting his clothing.”
“He could have concealed them?”
“In a pocket modified for the purpose, certainly.”
She watched her brother raise an eyebrow as he contemplated her words. Was he considering her explanation? Or was it the fact that his sister understood criminal methods that had made him silent.
“The worker—her name was Mary—thought it was strange that he removed his gloves before he looked at the vases.”
“Did she recognize him?”
“No. But I did.”
“You? I thought you said you didn’t see him.”
“I didn’t need to see him. Mary said he had a tattoo on his hand. On the base of his thumb. An arrow.”
“Bloody hell,” Liam said. “One of Rankin’s lot.”
“Yes, and I’ll wager it was Grady Rankin himself. He’s the best there is when it comes to sleight of hand, the grubby little rat.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Grady and I are going to have a little chat.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“He won’t know it’s me,” she said with a wink. “Wait here and I’ll show you why.”
“Lily, this is crazy.”
“Mona Ravishham would disagree.” Lily smiled at Liam’s confused expression, then rose. “You wait right here. I’ll only be a moment.”
Lily went quickly to her room to begin the transformation. She couldn’t walk into Grady Rankin’s rooming house on Whitechapel Road at midmorning tomorrow and hold a civilized conversation with the man. She had to catch him tonight, at the Devil’s Rest, where he always spent the waning hours of the evening checking up on his goons. While he was still celebrating his success.
Where he only knew her as Bonnie.
An unusual tickle of a
pprehension skittered up her spine. If Rankin had recognized her at the auction, her ploy was not going to work. But somehow she felt she was safe. On Mona’s advice, once she was in her teens she had never returned to Whitechapel in any persona except Bonnie.
As Lily donned Bonnie’s torn, threadbare clothes, then applied the concoction that made her look several decades older than she really was, she anticipated what Liam would think of her transformation. Perhaps she should have kept this revelation for a later date. He’d only just discovered he had a sister. And he seemed to like that fact. She hoped she wasn’t about to shatter their fragile beginning.
Lily walked down the stairs, assuming the mannerisms that were unique to Bonnie as she went—slumped shoulders, pursed lips, crippled hands dirtied in the smudge pot, splayed feet. Liam still sat in the chair facing the fireplace and didn’t hear her enter. She took two steps into the room and stopped.
“Cor blimey, mighty nice house for a bloke from Whitechapel,” she slurred as if she were missing a few teeth. “You must a picked a lotta pockets to afford it.”
Lily spoke in a gin-roughened voice and added a couple of snorts for good measure. When Liam turned to look at her, she swiped her filthy jumper sleeve across her nose and snuffled.
“What the hell?” Liam said bolting to his feet. A shocked expression reshaped his face. Lily could not miss his controlled fury.
“Relax, brother.” She straightened and twirled gracefully. “It’s me.”
Lily reached for her glass and handed it to Liam, giving him a clear look into her eyes as he stood in stunned disbelief. “Pour me about half a glass, brother dear,” she said in her most genteel voice. “I’d like one more swallow before I depart for Whitechapel.”
“Lily?”
Liam’s jaw dropped in amazement.
“Yes, Liam. Do you think I’ll pass?”
Liam sank into the nearest chair. “Lily? This is really you?”
“Yes, Liam. Except my name is Bonnie.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re bloody remarkable.”
“That’s good to hear. I’m going to have to be supremely convincing if I intend to fool Grady Rankin. One peek at the Princess and I’m done for.”
“The Princess?”
“His pet name for me when I was twelve.”
“But why tonight? Can’t you wait and let me work this out with you?”
Lily hesitated, then took the last sip of her brandy and set her glass on the table in front of her. “If I wait, the vases will disappear. I have to act now, before they’re passed to a fence.”
“Give me a moment to change and I’ll be ready to go with you.” Liam’s face was set with determination.
She thrust out her gnarled hand to stop him.
“You want to get me killed, Liam? You’re not going.”
“But you can’t go alone.”
“I most certainly can. I’m not going as Lily McGregor, Liam. I’m going as Bonnie.”
“Over my dead—You’re not leaving this house, Lily. Not without me, you’re not.”
“I’m not going alone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“What? Who—”
“I have a cart and driver, Liam. I can’t very well roll into Whitechapel in a carriage and four. Plunkett is in the stables at the new town house. He’s more than capable of looking after me.” She moved toward the door. “Now, if I hurry, I’ll get to the Devil’s Rest while Grady is still there, spending a bit of the money he earned tonight on his goons. He might even be drunk enough that he’ll let slip who hired him to steal the vases.”
She speared him with a look that dared him to come after her.
“I don’t like it,” Liam grumbled.
“I’ll be fine,” Lily said before she left the room. “Don’t wait up for me.”
“How do you expect me to sleep when I know where you are?”
“You’re worse than a mother hen,” Lily called over her shoulder. She left the house, swinging the door closed behind her, shutting her brother out for his own good.
The night was crisp, the air cool as it dried the gingered honey on her cheeks. She hurried down alleys, unwilling to expose herself on the streets, and only lost her bearings twice before she reached the town house. Soon it would become her permanent address, but for now she scurried around the side to the mews shared by four homes on the street. A light burned on the upper floor at the end.
Lily made her way up the stairs and found Plunkett oiling his gun. When she told him their mission he offered her the gun. But the knife tucked away in her waistband was the protection she preferred. That and the thin blade she carried wrapped in its scabbard and secured to her forearm.
“You carry it, Plunk. If things go badly it will be much more useful in your hands.”
Lily followed Plunkett into the stable below and waited as he harnessed the horse to the costermonger’s cart. She was a beautiful mare, a source of great pride to both Plunkett and herself. But once he threw the ratty, tangled netting over her, she was just another worn out nag.
A worn out nag with her worn out master, carting a worn out hag into the bowels of Whitechapel.
Bonnie entered Devil’s Rest through the back entrance. She paused just long enough to acclimate herself to the smoke-filled gloom and focus her attention on playing her current role. When she was ready, she stepped into the tap room.
“Well, look who’s here,” one of the regulars at a front table slurred out in a loud and not remotely sober voice.
“Bonnie!” several other customers yelled out. But tonight there was no cheerful banter to follow their greetings. No bawdy references to where she might have been keeping herself. Most of the regulars were focused on a heated card game in progress and Lily welcomed the fact that excessive attention hadn’t been drawn to her entrance.
Bonnie reached under the planks that made up the bar and pulled out her special bottle of brandy to pour a hefty amount into a battered tankard. When she’d taken a swallow, she looked around the room. Her gaze rested on the corner table where Grady Rankin sat with a fellow Bonnie had never seen before.
Seated at the near table next to Grady’s was a man everyone in the area simply called Brummie, the favored nickname for blokes from Birmingham. He’d been a resident of Whitechapel as long as anyone could remember, yet no one knew how old or how young Brummie was.
Across the room, Murk Matthews reclined in his chair, the lone occupant of his usual table. Between Brummie and Murk, they would have Grady Rankin nearly surrounded. That certainly couldn’t hurt.
Bonnie had always liked Brummie, and after she’d given Murk a nod to stay alert, she poured Brummie a cup of gin, and walked across the room. She pulled out an empty chair situated perfectly so she could hear Grady’s conversation with the stranger.
“How ya doin’, Brummie?” she said as she set the cup of gin on the table in front of him.
“Oi, Bonnie. It’s good ta see ya. We don’t see you so much lately.”
“I been callin’ on friends.”
“Ya, that’s what I ‘eard.”
“Anything went on while I was away?”
Bonnie knew that would start Brummie talking. He’d relive every moment from sunup to sundown for the past several days and she could just lean back and listen to what Grady Rankin and the stranger said.
“I’ll ask you again and you’d better tell the truth this time. Did anyone see you?” the stranger growled.
“Nah, it’s like I told you. I made sure Broadmoore was busy and the lady who had the winning bid on the vases was out of the room.”
The lady who won the winning bid. It was a relief to hear that Rankin hadn’t recognized his grown up Princess.
“Where are the vases now?”
“Where they’ll be safe.”
That wasn’t good enough. Lily needed a lot better hint if she was to get her hands on the vases yet tonight.
Bonnie leaned toward Brummie and grunted just enough to en
courage him to keep talking to himself.
“Did the earl tell you when he wanted me to deliver the vases?”
The earl. Which earl? Had she missed it?
“I’m going to meet with him in the morning and he’ll let me know what he wants done. Stay ready, Rankin. I don’t imagine he’ll want to wait too long before he gets hold of them. He has an eager buyer.”
“What I don’t understand,” Grady said, “is why he didn’t just take the vases from the old lady his self. Why’d he make her put them on auction just so’s he could steal ‘em?”
Lily shook her head. It was too easy. Just too easy.
“He’d have been the first one she suspected, see? Besides, it’s not your place to question what the earl does. Your part was just to steal the vases.”
An earl was the first one she’d suspect? Lily’s mind ticked through the possible suspects. It was a very short list. And neither Wesley nor Russell had been introduced to her as the earl of anything.
“Well, I did my part. Now I want the money the earl promised.”
“You’ll get your money when the earl gets his vases.”
“I’d better. Rumor has it that the earl owes every tailor on Bond Street.”
“You just stay ready to hand the vases over in the morning,” the stranger repeated.
“And you be sure to bring the money.”
Without answering Grady, the stranger rose from his chair and exited the Devil’s Rest. When he was gone, Bonnie rose from her chair, bobbling a bit as if her back had seized up. Grady was in a talkative mood. There would never be an easier time to hoodwink the fellow.
The half-formulated plan she’d put together should work. It had to. Because by morning the real Qings would be in the hands of a bloke with half a brain.
Lily hobbled to Grady’s table and sat.
“How ya bin, Grady?” Bonnie asked when she was settled in her chair and had taken a noisy swallow of her brandy. She’d purposely chosen the darker side of the table for fear something about her look would trigger a memory of having seen her earlier in the evening. But by the way Grady kept scanning the room, she could tell he spared little attention for her. She relaxed into her role.
