A Dangerous Deceit (Thief-Takers)

by Alissa Johnson

  He spoke of his friends, his teachers, the headmaster. At one point, he related a story involving three turnips and a brick. She was fairly certain she had misheard that bit, but she enjoyed even that interlude of nonsense. She liked the sound of his voice, the way it floated up and down in an easy rhythm, dancing between baritone and bass.

  And there was something wonderfully normal about strolling with a man on a late sunny afternoon.

  There was something wonderfullywicked about strolling with a handsome knight in the secluded woods, even if those woods were but a short distance from her home.

  It all felt so very…everyday. Everyday normal. Everyday wicked. The sort of thing an everyday woman might do with an everyday man.

  Neither of them was everyday. He was Sir Gabriel Arkwright, one of the famous Thief Takers. And she was Jane Ballenger, the bizarre recluse of Twillins Cottage. But it was nice to pretend otherwise, if only for a little while. For a few minutes on this one fine day, she could just be Jane, and he could just be Gabriel, and they were simply taking a marginally wicked walk in her woods.

  It was all so gloriously normal that by the time they reached the drive, Jane was hard-pressed not to grin like a fool.

  “I’ll call on you tomorrow.”

  Gabriel’s sudden pronouncement startled her out of her reverie.

  “Tomorrow?” Had she heard him correctly? Tomorrow seemed awfully soon after two visits today. Surely it would take time for the solicitor to complete the contract. “That isn’t—”

  He took her hand and bent over to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Until tomorrow, Jane.”

  Her hand was gloved. She couldn’t feel his lips against her skin, and yet a line of heat spread up her arm to the very center of her chest.

  “Tomorrow, then,” she murmured, and found herself giving in to a foolish grin as Gabriel turned and walked off toward the stables.

  Jane, he’d said.

  JustJane.

  She stared at her hand, and basked in the warmth of that single, chaste, everyday kiss.

  She could grow accustomed to beingjust Jane.

  ***

  “Well now.” In the front hall, Mrs. Harmon set aside her bucket of flatware and gave Jane a long, searching look. “That is quite a smile.”

  Jane shut the front door behind her and tried to school her face into a neutral expression. It didn’t work. “What’s wrong with my smile?”

  “Absolutely nothing. It goes all the way to your ears.”

  “It’s only a smile.”

  “Is it?” Mrs. Harmon tipped her head to the side, her shrewd eyes narrowing. “Did something happen on your stroll?”

  “No.” Jane sniffed and found something interesting to prod in a pile of clothes. “But I did meet with Sir Gabriel, and—”

  “I knew it!”

  A masculine voice intruded into the conversation. “Knew what?”

  Both women turned as Mr. Harmon appeared from the hallway.

  When Jane had first met Mr. Harmon, his short stature, portly features, and ruddy complexion had made him seem like a friendly, oversized gnome. Little had occurred in the seventeen years since to alter that impression. Mr. Harmon was the kindest man she’d ever known. A trifle gruff in his tone perhaps, but gentle at heart, and always ready for a laugh.

  “Sir Gabriel returned,” Mrs. Harmon informed her husband.

  “And I missed him?” Mr. Harmon craned his short neck for a view out the parlor windows. “Again?”

  “Jane took a stroll with him.”

  Mr. Harmon looked at Jane with renewed interest. “Is that so?”

  “I shouldn’t have,” Jane admitted. “It was a risk.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Harmon pointed a dainty finger at her. “There is more to life than avoiding misery and embarrassment, Jane. Youneed to take risks again.”

  “I really don’t.” She winced, remembering several awkward moments. “Do you know, I tried to escort him up the hill as if I were a man?”

  Mr. Harmon guffawed loudly.

  “It is not amusing,” Jane grumbled.

  Mrs. Harmon waved away the error. “Missteps such as that have nothing to do with your particular troubles. They’re a result of your isolation. You’re out of practice.”

  “I was neverin practice.”

  “Exactly so. It is time, I think, for a change. You need to go into the world again.” She looked to her husband, who gave a single nod of agreement.

  Jane felt a flicker of excitement and longing at the very idea. She tried to squash the feelings as she always had, with ruthless determination. But it was too easy to picture herself strolling with Gabriel again. She could show him the eastern trail that led to the stream. They could go early in the morning and watch the sunlight dance in the water. Perhaps she’d leave her gloves at home. Accidentally, of course.

  The flicker refused to die.

  It was all that talk about Renderwell’s sister. There had been a second, just a second, when her heart had leapt at the idea that Gabriel not only knew, but was fond of, another individual with her affliction. But if Renderwell’s sister had never confused him to the point of annoyance, then clearly she and Eliza did not share the same problem. There was a world of difference between a young woman speaking faster than her tongue could manage, and a grown woman unable to hear the words of others, or sometimes fail to speak her own mind at any speed.

  Jane shook her head. “I can’t. At any rate, I promised Edgar.”

  “Devil take Edgar,” Mr. Harmon said bluntly. “He’s dead.”

  Mrs. Harmon threw her husband an impatient glance. “Mr. Harmon is correct in his sentiment if not his delivery of it. Edgar is gone, dear. He no longer has any hold on you.”

  “But I owe him,” she said softly. “He came for me.”

  “He ought to have come for you sooner,” Mrs. Harmon returned with some impatience. “He should never have allowed your father to send you away to start, let alone leave you in such a dreadful place for so long.”

  “But he did come.”

  Mr. Harmon grunted in annoyance. “You’ve repaid him tenfold.”

  Jane wasn’t certain about that. Seventeen years ago, she’d been rejected by her own father—banished and abandoned to Brackmer’s Asylum for the Imbecile, Feeble-minded, and Morally Defective Child. After more than two years, she’d nearly given up hope of ever escaping her miserable prison. And then, completely unexpectedly, her brother had arrived to whisk her away to the safety and comfort of Twillins Cottage.

  Was it possible to repay such a debt?

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I am content with my life now. Why should I—”

  “Jane.” Mrs. Harmon’s voice was gentle but firm. “Your parents are gone. Edgar is gone. Even Brackmer’s is gone. The past is in the past. It is time you did asyou please.”

  “Maybe I’m not sure what that is.” It wasn’t just Edgar’s wishes that had kept her at home. It hadn’t been Edgar’s displeasure alone that frightened her. There was so much to be afraid of in the world. So much she could lose by trying to be a part of it.

  “I think you are.” Mrs. Harmon returned. “I saw the smile on your face when you walked through that door. You weren’t content. You were happy.”

  Shewanted to be happy. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and seek out Gabriel at every opportunity. Even if nothing came of it, even if he left in a matter of days never to be seen again, she still wanted to flirt with him while he was there, or, at the very least, give her best, untutored impression of doing so. She’d like to tease him again, and watch him smile at her cleverness. She wanted to feel her cheeks warm when he looked at her just so, like she was fascinating, maybe even beautiful. She wanted to feel the fluttering in her stomach when he’d softly brushed her hair, and that lovely, lovely heat when he kissed her hand.

  She wanted all of that and more. She wanted to bejust Jane. But she wanted to do all of it safely. That’s were things became tricky.

&nb
sp; Yes, the past was in the past. But the past had a terrible habit of repeating itself.

  Chapter Four

  For the first time in six years, Jane took great pains with her appearance. She chose her gown with care, deliberating for twenty minutes over her meager choices before finally selecting a dark green ready-made gown Mrs. Harmon had given to her as a birthday present last year.

  She would never be a great beauty, she mused as she studied herself in her vanity mirror, but at least there were no smudges of dirt on her chin or snarls in her hair. Pity about the frizz, though. She’d never been able to tame it.

  Reaching for her brush again, her eyes landed on a small oil lamp of colored glass that Edgar had sent to her over a month ago. Her hand paused midair as she suddenly remembered why Gabriel’s mention of expenditures had sounded that distant bell.

  When she’d received the rare present from Edgar, she’d been surprised and excited, but her joy quickly turned to disappointment when she discovered that the base of the lamp was cracked. When Mr. Harmon had detached the base to see if it might be repaired, they’d found a great deal of paper crammed inside, presumably to protect the glass during shipping. Most of the paper had been mere scraps, but there had been a few sheets…

  Jane opened the bottom drawer of her vanity, rifled through a few odds and ends, and pulled out the three intact pieces of paper she had found in the lamp base.

  It certainly looked like a list of expenditures, only Edgar hadn’t been spending money on objects; he’d been spending it on people. On every page, there was a long column of names on the left, a column of sums in the middle, and a few cryptic notes written down the right side.Ivan S., groundskeeper, GR. House, 5, loyalty uncertain… C. Antonovich, maid, 3, possible mistress of Prince L.… Rurik R., driver, 10, final payment.

  It could mean anything, really. Or nothing at all. He might have purchased items from each individual, or it might be a record of charitable donations. It seemed unlikely the mistress of a prince would be in need of charity, but one never knew.

  When she had first found the list, she hadn’t particularly cared what it meant. What difference did it make how Edgar frittered away Ballenger money? Frittered was frittered. She’d only kept the pages because they’d been whole when everything else was torn. She’d tucked them away in case Edgar had included them by accident, and asked for their return.

  But now…

  She ran a finger down the top page and considered her options. She could give Gabriel the list immediately. It would be the generous thing to do, the helpful thing. It had come from Edgar, and it fit the description of what he was looking for.

  But what if it wasexactly what he was looking for? The only thing? What if Gabriel knew what bit of sensitive paperwork the government was after, and this was it? What if there was nothing else amongst Edgar’s things to interest him?

  He would leave. She would retain full possession of her inheritance, but she would lose the fifty pounds.

  Jane had never thought of herself as a greedy or calculating woman, but as she stared at the list, a plan began to form, one that allowed her to keep the fifty poundsand her flotsam. She would wait. She would keep the list a secret until the contract was signed and the fifty pounds was in her hand. The moment she had the money, she would give Gabriel the pages. The plan wasn’t generous or helpful, but it was fair. She’d promised him Edgar’s things in exchange for fifty pounds. She would hold up her end of the bargain once he held up his.

  “Jane!”

  She started at the sound of Mrs. Harmon’s harried voice just outside her door.

  “Come in,” she called out and shoved the list into her pocket, feeling guilty.

  Mrs. Harmon popped inside and gave Jane a quick look over. “Oh good, you’re dressed. You must come down at once. Mr. Harmon has cornered Sir Gabriel in the parlor and will not cease badgering him with the most inane questions—”

  “He’s here? So soon?” Jane rose quickly and pointed over her shoulder. “I can’t reach the last buttons.”

  “He’s been here twenty minutes at least. I called for you, but…never mind.” She spun Jane around and fastened the gown. “There. All done. Nowcome down.” And with that, Mrs. Harmon flew out of the room.

  Jane stared at the empty doorway.

  Gabriel was back.

  Well, of course he was back. She’d known he would be. Only she’d thought there would be a little time for her to grow accustomed to the idea, to replenish some of the courage she’d spent the day before. She’d planned to have breakfast, then go over the ledgers and devise a new budget for Twillins. She assumed he’d come back in the afternoon during traditional visiting hours, not…

  “Jane!”

  “Yes! Coming!”

  She took a deep breath and smoothed her hands down her skirts. She could do this. She wanted to do this. She hadn’t put on her best gown to impress the Harmons, after all. She’d done it so she could pretend to be just Jane…if only for a little while longer.

  ***

  Bzzzzzzzz … Bzzzzzzzz

  She should have left well enough alone.

  As Jane sat in her chair in the parlor, trying to listen to Gabriel speak, she realized that she should have accepted her small victories the day before and been content with them. Twenty-five minutes in the parlor and a stroll in the woods—those should have been enough.

  But she’d simplyhad to try for more, just a little more time pretending to be a normal, everyday sort of lady. And now here she was, staring at Gabriel with what she could only guess was a completely vapid expression on her face, while he chatted away, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had no idea what he was saying. None whatsoever.

  Because of the bee.

  At least, Jane assumed it was a bee trapped between the glass and the closed drapes in the window behind Gabriel. It didn’t sound like a fly. The buzzing was too insistent, too angry. Or maybe she was hearing it wrong. Did she sometimes hear insects improperly the way she did words? She’d never really thought about that possibility. She’d rather not be thinking about it now, but it was just so damnablyloud.

  How had the Harmons not noticed it? Then again, neither had been in the room for very long. Mrs. Harmon had made some preposterous excuse and hauled her husband away almost as soon as Jane had arrived.

  Now Jane was alone with Gabriel. And the damnably loud bee.

  Bzzzzzzzzz.

  Maybe loud wasn’t the right word. It wasdemanding, like a persistent whisper an inch from her ear.

  Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen to me.

  She didn’t have a choice. It was impossible to ignore a sound that drowned out half of what Gabriel was saying. She tried, she really did, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t separate the buzzing sound from Gabriel’s voice, and her gaze and attention were continuously dragged back to the window.

  Listen to me.“…whether or not…”Listen to me. “…weather holds…”Listen to me. “…Balkerton.”

  Balkerton? Was that a person? She didn’t know anyone named Balkerton, did she?

  “Jane?”

  Good God, he’d asked her a question, and she had no idea whom or what the man was talking about.

  She leapt from her chair without the faintest notion of what she meant to do besides offer some sort of distraction. No, an excuse. She needed excuses. “I’m sorry. I… I need to… Er… Are you afraid of bees?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “There’s a bee. In the window. I’m quite terrified of them.” She wasn’t. Not remotely. “And I was…”Listen to me. Listen to me.“I… That is…”Listen to me.Maybe it was a fly. That would be terribly embarrassing.Listen to me. “Er…”

  Concentrate, you stupid child.

  Gabriel frowned at her, then glanced over his shoulder at the window. “Wooden lighting to get riddle it?”

  “Beg your pardon?”Oh, God.

  He rose from his chair and stepped closer to her. His gaze ra
ked over her in concern. “You really are terrified. A moment.”

  Gabriel moved to the window and opened it a crack, allowing an escape route for the bee. Or fly. Whatever the devil it was, Jane took a deep, calming breath while Gabriel got rid of it.

  Rid of… Rid of it… Riddle it.

  Would you like me to get rid of it? Maybe that was it.

  “Better?” Gabriel inquired, returning to her.

  “Yes.” Only not for the reasons he imagined. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Did you have a bad experience with bees?” he asked gently and stepped closer.

  She looked away briefly. She couldn’t nod and meet his gaze at the same time. Lying was bad enough. Fabricating a fear of bees held an element of absurdity that went beyond embarrassment. It waslowering.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jane.” His large hand settled on her shoulder, then ran down her arm in a soothing manner. “No worse than my aversion to teeth.”

  She wondered if he would offer the same comfort if he knew the truth. Perhaps not, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She wanted him to stay just as he was, with his warm hand enclosed over her wrist, and so near she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

  He had wonderfully kind eyes. She’d not noticed that before. They were faintly wrinkled about the corners, lending the impression of a man who spent a good deal of his time laughing. “Jane, dear!”

  Jane took a quick, startled step back from Gabriel just as Mrs. Harmon hurried into the room. Fully expecting to see a sly, knowing look from her friend, Jane studiously ignored the woman in favor of a loose thread on her cuff.

  But if Mrs. Harmon noticed how close she’d been standing to Gabriel, she didn’t mention it. She brushed right past Jane without looking at her. “We’ve more visitors arriving.”

  “What? Already?” Jane followed Mrs. Harmon and Gabriel to the windows, and frowned at the sight of a large group of riders coming up her drive. “Your men, I presume,” she said to Gabriel. “They’re earlier than expected, aren’t they? And there are quite a few more than you mentioned.”