The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart: Thieves of Desire Book 1

by St. Clair, Ellie

  For he loved her. He loved her as she apparently did him.

  Yes, she was from a family of thieves. Yes, she had deceived him. But in the end, he could no longer deny that she had done what she’d thought was right.

  Jonathan hurried around the desk, suddenly knowing what he needed to do. He needed to make things right. And he needed to win back the woman he loved.

  He started calling for Thurston, Mrs. Blonsky, and Shepherd. He needed all of their help if he was going to do this the right way.

  And he needed the help of two very important people. Two people, he was sure, who would be quite pleased with his decision.

  * * *

  “Calliope Murphy.”

  “Yes, Diana?”

  Calli looked up from her painting to find her sister framed in the doorway.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “Yes, something is most certainly wrong,” Diana said, crossing the room to take a seat in the chair beside Calli, her skirts flouncing up in a huff that she apparently felt herself. “I am done with this.”

  “With what?”

  “With your moping around, hiding in your room, pining after a duke who was never yours to begin with. It’s time to lift your bodice back up and return to being the Calli that we all know and love.”

  Calli straightened, setting her paintbrush down before turning to Diana.

  “Diana, you have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I believe I do. You haven’t been the same since you returned.”

  “No,” Calli said, shaking her head, a small, sad smile crossing her face. “You are right. I have not. And you know what the truth is? I will likely never be the same again.”

  Diana opened her mouth, but Calli held up a hand, stopping her flow of words.

  “That doesn’t mean that I am not happy or will never know joy. It’s just… I’ve learned so much. I’ve learned about love. I’ve learned about myself. I know what makes me happy now.”

  “Your duke?” Diana said wryly, and Calli inclined her head as she studied her sister, the only fair-haired one of them all.

  “He did make me happy, yes. As did the children. But I am no fool. I have not allowed all of my hopes to rest on him. No, what makes me happy is painting — but painting my own work.”

  “You already knew that.”

  “Yes, but now I’m wondering — can I make a life for myself as a painter? Should I try to sell some of these? I know they litter the walls of the house, as well as the floors underneath the beds, but maybe… maybe people might actually like them. The duke was as fine of an art connoisseur as anyone I have ever met. He saw some of my work and he actually had high praise.”

  Diana lifted a brow. “I do not mean to discredit you here, Calli, as I am well aware of your talent. But did he say he liked your paintings because he wanted to sleep with you, or because he wanted to hang them on his walls?”

  Calli’s cheeks immediately heated, but she refused to allow Diana to get under her skin.

  “He is not the type of man who would say such a thing just as a compliment. He says what he means.”

  “Well,” Diana said with a shrug. “It’s worth a try, I suppose. But how would you even do such a thing, especially as a woman, and one without any connections at that?”

  “I’m not sure about that yet,” Calli said with a sigh. “Maybe Arie can help me.”

  “Maybe,” Diana said, although she didn’t sound entirely confident.

  “Calli?” Damien stood at the door, a slip of paper in his hand. “A note came for you.”

  “For me?” she said with a frown, unsure of who would ever have need of her beyond those that lived in this house. She rose and took the paper from him, her eyes skimming over the words in familiar handwriting. Handwriting that she had taught herself.

  Come quickly, Miss Donahue, we have urgent need of you. Mary and Matthew

  “I must go,” she said, flying to the peg on the wall for her cloak.

  “Go where?” Diana asked, but Calli was already out the door, leaving her siblings behind. She had no need nor time to explain to them. They wouldn’t understand, anyway.

  “Calli?” Xander appeared now, and her steps slowed. She would never be able to completely ignore Xander, no matter the circumstance. Their bond was too strong.

  She held out the note to him, pleading at him with her eyes, silently begging for him to understand.

  He did. He looked up at her and nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Go where?” Diana cried after them, but Xander simply called behind him, “We’ll return shortly,” and Calli gratefully followed him out the doors toward the stable at the back.

  When they arrived at Jonathan’s townhouse, the carriage had barely come to a stop before Calli was out onto the street and flying up the steps. When she knocked and no one answered, the fears that she had been trying to tamp down all the way here began to rise within her, but Xander placed a hand on her shoulder and she calmed — slightly.

  Finally, Thurston opened the door, surprisingly not shocked to find Calli and her brother standing there.

  “Miss Donahue,” he said with a slight bow, “please, come in.”

  “Mary? Matthew?” she asked him, her heart still pounding. “Are they all right?”

  “Indeed,” he said. “Please follow me.”

  Calli shared a bewildered glance with Xander before the two of them followed the butler, who was walking far too slowly for her liking, down the hall toward the back parlor — the one which overlooked the small garden at the back that Calli had always enjoyed.

  The butler stopped in front of the door, but instead of entering to announce her, he swept his hand out toward the door, bidding her to enter.

  Calli did so trepidatiously — only for her mouth to drop open at what she saw within.

  Next to the window was an easel, the canvas already laid out upon it, awaiting color, causing her fingers to twitch.

  A desk sat next to it, filled with every color of paint one could ever imagine, from the color of the sky to the murky ocean. Brushes of every size, every shape were lined up neatly, with a comfortable-looking leather tufted chair in the middle, facing out between the canvas and the window beyond.

  Beside this most beautiful display were two smaller replications of it.

  And in the corner of the room, an even more incredible sight — Jonathan, standing behind Mary and Matthew, one hand on each of their shoulders.

  “Calli?” Mary said, a wide smile on her face, “may I call you that?”

  “Of course,” Calli said after clearing her throat, finding that she had lost her voice for a moment as she was so overcome by all in front of her.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think… this looks amazing,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “You are the luckiest children I know.”

  “Yes,” Mary persisted, “we are looking forward to painting here, ’tis true. But what do you think?”

  “I think I can hardly wait to see what you come up with,” Calli said, wondering just why they had called her here, what they expected of her. Jonathan had obviously known about this scheme for her to arrive at the house, but why was he just standing there, doing nothing, saying nothing?

  “Mary, Matthew,” Jonathan said, crouching down, “I’m not sure that Calli quite understands. Why don’t you go play for a moment while I talk to her?”

  The children looked somewhat crestfallen, but nodded and left the room, as Xander stared at the two of them unsurely.

  “I’ll ah, go keep an eye on them,” he said.

  Calli nodded to him gratefully, glad that he was here, that she knew she always had him to lean on.

  “Calli,” Jonathan began, stepping toward her, but Calli held up a hand.

  “Let me go first — please?” she said imploringly, and he paused but then nodded.

  “I know you’ve received my letter and already know all that I ever wanted you to,” she sai
d. “But there was one thing I never did say properly. And that is that I am sorry. I never meant for this — any of this — to happen.”

  “I know,” he said with a small smile. “You are a good person, Calli, I know that. I realize that. And I never gave you a chance.”

  “But—”

  He was the one to hold up a hand now, just as she noted her painting — the one she had sent him — hanging behind him on the wall.

  “You learned rather quickly, I’m afraid, that I am a man who often allows his temper to get the best of him. That I like to get my way and am not pleased at anyone who stands up to me. That I do not trust easily and refuse to allow the trust to return once it has been broken.”

  Calli listened, inwardly agreeing with him. He was right. He was all of those things. And yet she loved him anyway.

  “When you weren’t who you said you were I felt… betrayed.” He turned from her for a moment, running a hand through his hair, and Calli’s heart ached at the pain on his face. Pain that she had caused. “I lashed out against you, forced you out of my house, out of my heart.”

  “I understand why you did what you did, Jonathan,” she murmured. “There is no need to feel badly about it.”

  “Except that I was wrong.”

  Her head shot up at that, and now he was taking her hands in his, those crystal blue eyes of his boring into hers with more intense an expression than she had ever seen before.

  Her mouth rounded as she tried to say something — anything — but nothing would come out.

  “I should have given you a chance. I know what you did, how you tried to keep me from losing the painting. I knew the second Shepherd told me the original was still in the frame, and yet, still, I refused to believe.”

  “You had every right—”

  “No,” he squeezed her hands gently. “I should have trusted in what I felt for you. The connection we had. The one that was never a lie, even though your name was.”

  Calli felt the tears beginning to form, but she pushed a watery smile onto her face.

  “I’ve always been Calli,” she managed, her words just over a whisper.

  “I know,” he said, pulling her closer. “This room — I want it to be yours. I want you to have the freedom to paint, but to paint what you want to paint. To paint original works, that will become renowned throughout the world.”

  “How did you know?” she choked out.

  “Know what?”

  “My dream?”

  “I didn’t,” he said, frowning, “I just thought… if this was where your passion lay, why not chase it?”

  “So you want me to return as the children’s governess?” she asked, unclear just why this room was set up in his townhouse.

  “Their governess?” he said, his eyes widening, and then laughed lightly. “Absolutely not.”

  “But—”

  “Calli,” he said, lowering himself to one knee before her, “I want you to be my wife.”

  Chapter 26

  She didn’t say anything.

  Why wasn’t she saying anything?

  She was just staring at him with those luminous violet eyes, covered in a sheen of water. Jonathan wasn’t sure whether she was happy or upset or unsure.

  “Calli?” he said, squinting up at her. “Are you—”

  “Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered, tugging him to his feet. “Are you sure?”

  “Am I sure?”

  “I’m not exactly duchess material,” she said, laughing self-consciously. “My family are thieves, if you haven’t realized that by now. I come from nothing. I am no one.”

  “You are Calli — hopefully soon to be Calli Saville, Duchess of Hargreave,” he said fiercely, insistently, needing her to understand. “If you will say yes. If you can’t — I understand. I’m not the easiest of men, I know that. I work too hard, too often, forget to enjoy life. But you have shown me what is most important. I love you, Calli. No other woman will ever take your place in my heart. It’s just not possible.”

  She stared at him then, clutching the sleeves of his jacket as though she needed to hold onto him to stay upright.

  And then she launched herself into his arms and kissed him with all of the ferocity he knew she held deep within her.

  Finally she eased back from him, staring up at him with a smile on her face.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, raising his brows, to which she laughed.

  “A thousand times yes,” she said, before leaning in to kiss him once more.

  It didn’t last long as a knock sounded on the door, and two voices called within.

  “Did she say yes?”

  “Are you going to be married?”

  “Yes,” Jonathan said, finally allowing the smile of happiness and relief to grow on his face. “She said yes.”

  Another frame filled the doorway — one as tall as Jonathan, and even broader. Calli’s brother looked at the scene in front of him, his face uneasy for a moment. Jonathan met his eye and gave him a nod — a nod that told him that yes, he would take care of his sister, that there was no need to worry.

  Finally, the man’s lips tilted upward into the smallest of smiles — although it was, nevertheless, a smile. Jonathan would take it.

  “Xander,” Calli said, leaving Jonathan for a moment to extend her hand to her brother, “come in.”

  “I was just having quite an important lesson on the frogs that now live in the pond outside,” Xander said, to which Calli laughed before she looked down at the children, an answering smile on her face to theirs.

  She placed a hand on Jonathan’s chest, and he knew what she was thinking — by marrying, they were not only committing to one another. They were committing to this family. Jonathan had always been scared to allow his heart to become this full, had always been sure that something would come along and take it all away if he allowed it to do so.

  But now… now he knew that love was stronger than that. And he had Calli to thank for it.

  “Well,” Xander said as he looked at the pair of them, “This will be a wedding unlike anything London has ever seen before.”

  “Yes,” Calli said as she smiled up at Jonathan, and he ran a hand over her curls, “It most certainly will.”

  * * *

  Calli had been right.

  St. George’s had likely never seen such a wide array of guests as they had when Calliope Murphy wed Jonathan Saville, Duke of Hargreave. How the nobility would have felt to know they were actually sitting but a pew away from some of London’s most prolific of thieves, Jonathan wasn’t sure.

  But he wasn’t about to tell any of them.

  He and Arie had sat down after the proposal to discuss the arrangement. Calli had felt it quite unnecessary, but Arie had insisted, and Jonathan had agreed it might be prudent.

  The arrangement, however, had nothing to do with the marriage.

  No, it was about Arie’s ‘business’ and how it would affect his sister in the future.

  The terms had been simple. While Jonathan would never prevent Calli from seeing her family, she was to have no part in their thievery. Arie would not share his plans with her, nor would ask for her support in anything. Calli and Jonathan’s connections would not be used to help Arie gain any advantage, and nor would they ever come after any of Jonathan’s friends or family.

  Arie hadn’t seemed thrilled with some of it, but he had, eventually, agreed.

  After giving Calli away, he had sat with his arms crossed and stared Jonathan down, but Jonathan had barely noticed. Not when he saw Calli. She was every bit the Greek goddess he had always thought her to be, shocking the ton by wearing her hair flowing down her back in loose curls. Her long white dress, airy and flowy, made him think of her tossed back among his sheets, and he had to concentrate to remember where he was and the importance of this part of their union.

  The rest would come later.

  It went by quickly, the only part Jonathan truly remembered was the end — when he whispered “I love you” to h
is new bride and then escorted her out of the church.

  For the first time in his life, everything was finally as it was meant to be.

  * * *

  “Was that not the most entertaining breakfast?” Calli asked as Jonathan opened the doors to his bedroom, a place Calli remembered with the fondest of memories. She walked over to the bed, trailing her fingers down the coverlet, remembering… and anticipating.

  “The part where Matthew placed pudding on your sister’s dining chair, or when Xander began to openly flirt with the Marchioness of Crawford?”

  Calli turned as Jonathan shut the door, finding that he was already removing his cravat.

  “I was thinking more so of when your mother began to question Arie about what he did for a living. She would make the most proficient of investigators. Even Arie was sweating.”

  “Or when Damien used the serving spoon for his soup.”

  “Or when my husband made the most beautiful toast. One that nearly had me rising from the table and leading you up here hours ago.”

  Jonathan’s chuckle was not exactly humorous, but rather… seductive.

  Calli lost her own smile as she swallowed hard.

  “Having children in the house did not exactly make it easy for me to sneak you away, although I tried awfully hard throughout the day.”

  “I know you did,” she said, trailing a finger over his chin, where the slightest bit of stubble was already beginning to make an appearance.

  “For a man of such control, you weren’t exactly… subtle.”

  “No man could be. Not with you.”

  She smiled widely at him as she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head back to look up at him.

  “Why, thank you, Your Grace.”

  “Is there really need for such formalities here, Your Grace?”

  “I think not,” she said, tsking like any good governess would do. “No formalities here. Most especially that cravat.”

  She began to tug at it, struggling slightly, but he allowed her to continue until finally she had completely freed it and thrown it on the floor.