To Steal a Heart

by Jen Turano

  Peering through the leaves, Gabriella allowed her gaze to travel over the numerous doors that led out of the ballroom. One of those doors, no doubt, led to the second floor, which was where she needed to find herself soon. More specifically, she needed to find the bedchamber of Mrs. Birkhoff, the owner of the Fifth Avenue mansion Gabriella was currently lurking about in, and the most likely suspect behind framing Jennette for theft.

  When trying to figure out the most likely candidate to want Jennette out of the picture, thus rendering Mr. Duncan Linwood an eligible bachelor again, Mrs. Birkhoff, it was agreed by all, was the top choice.

  She had made no secret of her disdain for Jennette, or her disappointment regarding Jennette’s engagement to Mr. Linwood. She’d set her sights on Mr. Linwood as a future groom for her own daughter, Miss Bertha Birkhoff, a lady rumored to be one of the most spoiled, demanding, and unpleasant ladies out this Season.

  Daphne had been the one to come up with the reasoning behind Mrs. Birkhoff stealing an entire diamond and sapphire collection to frame Jennette, instead of merely taking one or two pieces. She’d concluded that taking only a single brooch wouldn’t have caused the outrage that making off with an entire collection had caused. And when Gabriella had argued that point, asking why the entire collection hadn’t been used to frame Jennette, Daphne had merely said that greed had obviously been behind that decision. With Jennette blamed for the entire theft, the real culprit would then be free to enjoy the rest of the collection.

  Gabriella and Daphne’s mission tonight was to find the location of the stolen jewels that had not been discovered in Jennette’s room. Mrs. Birkhoff just happened to have a very large safe built into the wall of her bedchamber, information gleaned through the efforts of Miss Ann Evans, a lady who lived at the boardinghouse and worked as a paid companion to numerous society matrons and thus was privy to an astounding amount of gossip.

  It was Gabriella’s job to crack open that safe, and then take a quick inventory of the Linwood collection, if those pieces were nestled inside the safe. Eunice would then take that evidence to a contact she had in the police department, who would, hopefully, take whatever steps were needed to clear Jennette’s name.

  Gabriella could only hope that after being out of the burglary business for so many years, her nerves wouldn’t get the best of her, and she’d actually be able to not only locate the safe but also open it.

  A loud crash brought her disturbing thoughts to an abrupt end.

  Shoving aside a leaf that was obscuring her view, Gabriella settled her attention on a group of guests standing halfway across the ballroom. A server lay sprawled on the floor, shattered glasses that had recently held expensive champagne littering the area around him. Her gaze sharpened on a lady dressed as Cleopatra, who was, unfortunately, lurching about and leaving chaos in her wake.

  Gabriella squared her shoulders as she abandoned her potted plant to stride as rapidly as she could through the throngs of people who were now craning their necks, trying to discern what all the ruckus was about.

  Reaching Daphne’s side, she took hold of her arm and began towing her through the crowd, ignoring all the curious glances being cast their way. Stepping from the ballroom and into a hallway, she continued walking until she reached the first available room, tugging Daphne into what turned out to be the library.

  A quick glance around left Gabriella breathing a sigh of relief because the room was devoid of guests. She shut the door and released her hold on Daphne. “What in the world happened?”

  Daphne blinked owlishly back at her. “Oh, thank goodness it’s you. I was afraid I’d been found out and was certain I was being taken away to be questioned by the authorities.”

  “You just realized it’s me?”

  “Indeed.” Daphne raised a trembling hand to her throat. “I don’t believe my nerves are going to withstand much more this evening.”

  “I’m sure it was nerve-racking when you ran into a server and caused that poor man to lose control of his tray.”

  “Is that what happened?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I wasn’t paying attention because my thoughts were occupied elsewhere.”

  “You weren’t stewing over those remarks Miss McArthur made about how much she disliked Montague Moreland, were you? I’m sure she was overexaggerating her dislike.”

  Daphne waved that aside. “That’s not why I was preoccupied, although it was a nasty surprise for me to hear criticism about my work said directly to my face.”

  “Miss McArthur didn’t know she was speaking to Montague Moreland.”

  “A valid point, but the reason I was preoccupied was because I needed to visit the retiring room. What should have been a less-than-adventurous trip turned anything but, because I’d decided to take off my spectacles after remembering that they hardly suit my Cleopatra costume. I’m afraid to say I landed in the gentlemen’s retiring room instead of the ladies’.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Quite right,” Daphne said. “Pandemonium erupted and gentlemen began dashing for the door—all except one gentleman, a Mr. Horace Swift, who decided I’m a most fetching young lady.” She shuddered. “He actually kissed my hand before he insisted on putting his name on my dance card, which, if I had a dance card, could have turned into a disaster of epic proportions since I’ve never been what anyone would call a graceful dancer.”

  “Nor would you have time to dance because, if you’ve forgotten, you’re here as my lookout.”

  Daphne blinked. “There is that, which means I should put my spectacles on again. Can’t see three feet in front of me without them.”

  “That might have been good to know before we left the boardinghouse this evening.”

  “I suppose I should have divulged more to you about my eye affliction.” Opening her reticule, Daphne retrieved her spectacles and put them on. “Ah, much better.”

  “I suggest you keep those on for the remainder of the evening, no matter that you seem to believe they don’t suit your costume.”

  “Eunice is the one who told me they ruin the look.”

  “Yes, well, Eunice isn’t here to witness the damage her remark caused, and do know that I’ll be sure to broach the matter with her if we manage to get out of here tonight undetected.”

  “You believe that could be an issue?”

  “After your bewildering conversation with two young ladies, your unexpected trip to the men’s retiring room, and then your crash with the server, yes.”

  Daphne began rummaging around in her bag, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper, which she immediately began perusing. She lifted her head. “I think you’re worrying for nothing, because according to my list, we seem to be on track so far. We managed to gain entrance to the ball, and I managed to discover what Mrs. Birkhoff looks like—not that having her march into the gentlemen’s retiring room was something I expected.”

  “Having Mrs. Birkhoff encounter you in the men’s retiring room is not something that’s alleviating my worrying. It simply reinforces the idea that we’re doomed.”

  “We’re not doomed,” Daphne argued. “If you ask me, it was fortunate that Mrs. Birkhoff entered the scene because it gave me an opportunity to get a good look at her.”

  “You just told me you can’t see without your spectacles on. How were you able to get a good look at her?”

  “She’s dressed as a hornet, and even my poor eyes couldn’t miss the bright yellow cone she’s got attached to her head.”

  “Dare I ask what happened after Mrs. Birkhoff showed up in the retiring room?”

  Daphne gave another shudder. “At first, I was fearful our plan was doomed, which had me reaching for my smelling salts.”

  “You keep smelling salts on you?”

  “At all times. If you’ve neglected to notice, I’m a nervous sort, prone to fits of anxiety, and I never know when I might encounter a situation that requires the use of smelling salts. But as I was searching through my bag for them
, I remembered how you gained us access to the ball. I thought it was very clever how you merely walked through the servant entrance and told the servers gathered there that I’d been in need of air after a stuffed mushroom rendered me queasy.” Daphne grinned. “That gave me the perfect explanation to give to Mrs. Birkhoff, who, by that time, was demanding to know why I was in the gentlemen’s retiring room. I told her I was about to become sick from a stuffed mushroom and had been in such a hurry to reach the retiring room that I got the rooms confused. After that disclosure, she rushed away, saying something about me being the second lady becoming ill due to mushrooms, which meant she needed to have all the mushrooms removed immediately.”

  “What a shame that we seem to be responsible for having perfectly good stuffed mushrooms tossed out.” Gabriella frowned. “What happened to that Mr. Horace Swift?”

  “He couldn’t get out of the retiring room fast enough after hearing that I was queasy from the mushrooms. So, that’s that, and now back to business.” Daphne pulled out a pencil stub and began marking off items on her paper. “Entrance to ball, check. Familiarize myself with Mrs. Birkhoff, check. Up next, wait for the music to start and send you on your way.”

  “I’m not certain it’s wise to have a sheet of paper that apparently lays out our plans for the evening. What if you lose it?”

  “I wrote it in code, a recent talent I gained because I’m considering writing a codebreaker into my next story.” Daphne returned the paper to a reticule that was stuffed with a variety of objects, one of those objects causing Gabriella’s brows to draw together.

  “Is that a book?”

  “Of course it is.” Daphne nodded. “I never go anywhere without a book, because reading is a tool that writers really should never neglect. It allows us to keep a finger on the pulse of what readers expect in any given genre. Deadlines leave me scant time to read these days, so I always carry a book with me because one never knows when a few spare moments will present themselves.”

  “There won’t be any opportunities to read tonight, not with the task you agreed to complete for me.”

  “I reluctantly agreed, and there’s every reason to believe I might find time to read. You told me it could take you twenty minutes to open and then search through that safe. I’ll need something to do.”

  “Look out for Mrs. Birkhoff. That’s the something you’ll need to do.”

  “Oh yes, absolutely right.” Daphne gave her book a longing look before she pulled out a small notepad, snapped her reticule firmly shut, and sent Gabriella a smile. “No need to fret. I promise I won’t pull out my book until we’re on our way back to the boardinghouse. I’ll merely content myself with jotting down a few notes.”

  “You can’t take notes either.”

  Daphne’s face fell. “But what if inspiration strikes while I’m keeping an eye on Mrs. Birkhoff?”

  “You’ll have to commit it to memory and write it down after we complete our mission.”

  “This investigating business is not nearly as much fun as I was hoping it would be,” Daphne said, returning her notepad and pencil to her reticule right as a single note rang out from the orchestra.

  “That’s my cue,” Gabriella said, a trace of unease running through her at the thought of the task ahead.

  “I’ve just noticed that you’re perspiring,” Daphne said, cocking her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you perspire before, and I’m not certain that’s an encouraging sign. Would you care to take my smelling salts with you?”

  “I don’t need smelling salts. I’m merely a little nervous because it’s been years since I’ve broken into a safe. The last time I attempted to crack a safe, I was caught red-handed.” Gabriella drew in a breath. “I’ve also never done a job on my own before. I was always accompanied by a partner.”

  “You had a partner?”

  “I did. He and I were constantly paired together on the jobs Humphrey Rookwood sent us out to complete. We always met with success, until that last job, which saw me taken off the streets and put into the orphanage.”

  “What happened to your partner? Was he taken into custody as well?”

  The very thought of Nicholas Quinn, Gabriella’s best friend from the time she’d arrived on the streets at the age of five until she’d been apprehended at twelve, had temper flickering through her. That temper was a direct result of Nicholas having abandoned her after she’d been apprehended, leaving her all alone in the world and breaking her heart in the process.

  She’d always thought they’d be friends forever, but . . .

  “You’re looking incredibly fierce right now, Gabriella,” Daphne said, stepping closer. “Should I not have questioned you about that partner of yours?”

  Realizing that now was hardly the time to become distracted by thoughts of Nicholas, Gabriella drew in a breath. “Forgive me, Daphne. I fear I’m somewhat sensitive when it comes to my old partner, but there was no way you could have known that. Allow me to simply say that I don’t know what happened to him because I never saw him again. Truth be told, I never saw any of the people I lived with throughout my childhood again, not even Humphrey Rookwood, the only father figure I ever knew and the man responsible for my motley street family.

  “Rookwood, you see, was considered the most notorious criminal in the city at that time, which made it odd that he never came to find me, because he certainly had enough contacts to locate me if he’d wanted me back. I was his best thief and could pick a pocket in a blink of an eye, shimmy up chimney chutes, open safes with ease, and slip into houses undetected—talents one would have thought Rookwood would have been reluctant to lose.”

  “You can shimmy up a chimney chute?”

  “Could shimmy,” Gabriella corrected. “I’m not as small as I used to be, so I’d probably get stuck these days. However, we’re allowing ourselves to get distracted. I need to head upstairs, and you need to head back to the ball to watch over Mrs. Birkhoff.” She caught Daphne’s eye. “Remember, if you see Mrs. Birkhoff leaving the ballroom, alert me immediately. And no reading.”

  “I’ll try to restrain myself.”

  “That’s hardly reassuring,” Gabriella murmured, checking her pocket watch. “It really shouldn’t take me longer than twenty minutes—ten, if we’re lucky. I’ll come find you when I’m done, unless you need to come find me if Mrs. Birkhoff goes on the move.”

  Waiting until Daphne got on her way back to the ballroom, Gabriella drew in a deep breath and hurried from the library. Precious minutes ticked away as she tried to locate stairs—a full minute of that time spent hiding in a broom closet when three servers walked into the hallway carrying heavy trays and began heading Gabriella’s way. By the time she located a narrow flight of servant stairs, her forehead was once again beaded with perspiration. Brushing the perspiration aside, Gabriella climbed the stairs and lingered on the second-floor landing, trying to get her bearings.

  Turning to the right, she eased open the first door she encountered, but immediately closed it because the furnishings were far too heavy and dark to appeal to a society matron. Moving to another door, she slipped into a room that held a large poster bed with frilly curtains tied artfully to the posts, the pink coverlet, as well as what looked to be a connecting door to Mr. Birkhoff’s bedchamber, telling clues that she was in the right place.

  Heading directly for a painting that hung beside the bed, she gave the frame a nudge, and the painting swung open like a door, revealing a black safe set into the wall. Thankfully, that safe turned out to be a Herring & Farrel, which had a combination lock and was a similar model to safes Gabriella had cracked in the past.

  Flexing her fingers, Gabriella raised her right hand, placed her ear directly against the safe, then began slowly twirling the combination lock, stopping when she heard a click. Turning the dial in the opposite direction, she heard another click, right before she heard what sounded like the lightest of footsteps behind her.

  For the briefest of seconds, a sense of dread hel
d her immobile. Drawing in a steadying breath, she forced herself to turn, discovering a large gentleman standing a few feet away from her.

  He was dressed all in black, with a black cap covering his hair, and his eyes were gleaming with something dangerous, even as he sent her a smile and an inclination of his head.

  “Well, well, well,” he drawled. “What do we have here?”

  CHAPTER

  Three

  Mr. Nicholas Quinn kept his gaze on the man standing before him, preparing himself for the attack that was certain to come. It had been his experience that, when caught, thieves were notorious for attacking first and then fleeing, and he doubted this particular thief would react any differently.

  To his confusion, though, the man in front of him tilted his head, considered Nicholas for a few seconds, and then . . . he smiled.

  It was a smile that left Nicholas reeling, because it was a smile he’d seen often throughout his misbegotten youth and a smile that had haunted his dreams for thirteen very long years, reminding him time and again of the girl he’d lost.

  What that particular smile was doing on a man’s face was confusing to say the least, unless . . .

  He took a hesitant step forward. “Gabe?”

  The smile faltered before it hitched back into place. “That’s a name I haven’t heard anyone call me in years. These days, I prefer Gabriella.”

  The sound of her voice flowed over him, and for a second, Nicholas allowed himself to savor it as anticipation began coursing through him.

  He’d found her, after all these years.

  He took another step toward Gabe—or rather, Gabriella—the urge to fold her into his arms just as he’d done too many times to count when they were children impossible to ignore.

  He took another step but stopped when Gabriella held up a hand, no longer smiling.