Thief of Hearts

by Ruby Moone

  Stalemate.

  “Why don’t we dress and have some breakfast. We can talk afterwards. If you would like to.” David sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. His erection had subsided enough to stand up without waving at Jeremy. He was bracing himself to stand up when Jeremy spoke to his back.

  “Is David Lambert your name?”

  He stayed where he was, with his back to Jeremy and closed his eyes and took a breath. “My name is Albert David Potts.” David waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, he stood and stalked to where his clothes lay over a chair. He dressed quickly, made a hash of tying his cravat, and buttoned his waistcoat wrong. His composure was unravelling, and he couldn’t remember the last time that happened to him and he didn’t like it. Not a bit. He looked at Jeremy who was standing, wide eyed, still by the window.

  “My name is Albert Potts, and I am a thief. I ape the aristocracy and make a very good living stealing from them. Don’t fool yourself that there is a sad story behind this, that I have a poor family to support, I don’t. I was born a bastard with nothing. Now, I am wealthy bastard. I own property in London and a house in the country and I have fooled everyone. There. Now you know.” He tugged his waistcoat and swore when he had to re-do the buttons. “I am going downstairs to eat.” He stalked from the room and then stalked back in, snatching up a bag from the dresser.

  “Here. Yours, I believe.”

  Jeremy didn’t move so he dropped it on the bed and walked out. He managed to stop himself slamming the door behind him. Just.

  Chapter 10

  Jeremy’s hand went to his mouth. Albert Potts? A common thief who imitates the aristocracy? Even ruffled, unshaven, and unkempt, David looked every inch the gentleman. Charming, frightfully handsome and aristocratic, just as though he had been born to it. The epitome of respectability.

  He picked up the bag David had left on the dresser and went to sit on the bed with it and pulled it open. His breath caught. He pulled out his father’s brushes and his mother’s perfume bottle. He’d gone back. Jeremy swallowed. He opened the stopper and sniffed. There it was. That soft, violet scent which took him straight back to childhood. He put them back in the bag and held them to his chest. He ran his hand over the pillow where David has slept then lay down and buried his face in it. It smelled of David. He would always be David not Albert. He curled up on the bed and hugged David’s pillow to his chest and lay there. Thinking.

  It was a long time before David returned. When he did, he was shaved, his hair was artfully arranged, and he wore a clean cravat. He had several boxes in his hands. He dropped them on the floor.

  “For you.”

  Jeremy sat up, smoothed his hair, and eyed him warily.

  David walked to the dresser where there stood a small mirror. He inspected his reflection, looking this way and that, and then, apparently satisfied, nodded.

  “You needed some decent clothes. These should fit, but if they don’t we can exchange them. There was a small outfitter in the town. I am headed for London. You can come with me if you wish. If you don’t, I can give you some money to tide you over until you find a new position. I can write references for you if it will help you get set up.”

  Jeremy looked at the bags, and then at David. “Forged references?”

  David gave him a look.

  “Do you want me to come to London?”

  “Entirely your decision.” A muscle jumped along David’s jaw and try as he might, Jeremy could discern nothing from his face. His eyes were completely unreadable. He looked down at his hands and fiddled with his thumbnail. “Thank you for my things. You shouldn’t have risked it.”

  David hesitated. “We’re not that different, you know.”

  Jeremy looked up at him and saw a glimmer of some unnameable emotion in his eyes.

  “We are both breaking the law. You are a sodomite who likes to dress in women’s clothing. I am a sodomite who likes to dress in aristocratic clothing. We both have a lot to hide.” His shoulder twitched in a small shrug.

  Anger bubbled up in Jeremy. “But I work for my money, you steal yours.”

  David held his gaze for a moment, and then looked down at the floor. It was a moment before he looked back up. When he did, there was no expression on his face. His expression was bland.

  “Until yesterday I had no idea I would be almost unbearably aroused by the sight of a beautiful young man with violet eyes and flushed cheeks dressed in women’s silks. I was shocked to the core. But, as you said, I saw through it to you. The man inside.”

  Jeremy’s heart thundered in his chest.

  “I’ll take it from your silence you can’t do the same.” He hesitated a moment, and then carried on. “This is my direction.” He fished in his pocket and dropped an elegantly simple card on the bed. “The room is paid for, so is your breakfast.” He fished in another pocket and pulled out a handful of notes and dropped them on the bed, too. He hesitated, as though waiting for Jeremy to speak, and when he didn’t, David walked to the door and stopped. He looked over his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry you lost your job. I’m sorry you were ridiculed. I owe you, and I am willing to repay the debt. I’ve given you enough to start afresh, but I can help you set yourself up in whatever trade you want. The choice is yours.”

  He closed the door behind him.

  * * * *

  Jeremy picked up the money. There was enough to last him all year. Probably more if he was careful. He looked in the bags and boxes. Breeches, boots, undergarments, shirts, cravats, a coat…even a small portmanteau to put it all in. He picked up a shirt. It was so soft. Closing his eyes, he pressed it to his cheek. He pulled the garments out and dressed in a linen shirt, the softest buckskin breeches, and, for God’s sake, David had even found him some top boots. He pulled them on and stamped. They fit reasonably well. He had a stab at tying the cravat and then shrugged into the jacket. He looked at himself in the mirror. Clean hair, nice clothes…he looked every inch the young, country gentleman. He packed the rest of the items into the portmanteau and added his own meagre belongings, including his robe and dress, and closed it. He walked, loving the feel of the fine fabrics against his skin, loving the feeling of being clean. He had enough money in his pocket to walk away. Start a new life. Be respectable. He could go and see Elliot and give him his side of events before the tattlers got to him. Even think about a different life, a different job where he didn’t have to dress up in ridiculous outfits and run after the gentry. His heart stuttered a little. He could sew. He could draw and design gowns. He sat on the bed with a thump. Who would buy from a man? Women went to modistes for that, didn’t they? He ran a hand over his mouth. He was surely too old to be apprenticed to a tailor. His hands shook a little. Or would he? That would be respectable. Acceptable.

  And what about the man sat downstairs? What about the fact that all the money and lovely things he had been given came from a man who stole money to be able to give them to him? A man whose entire life was a lie.

  Head pounding, he stood. He picked up his portmanteau and made a decision. This was a chance at a better life, at respectability. A life filled with soft fabric and colour. He wasn’t going to let it go, and he wasn’t going to become embroiled in the life of a man who could, at any given moment, be caught, flung in Newgate gaol and hung. He wasn’t going to fall for a man who could lie and cheat and steal his way through life. No matter how gorgeous, how kind, or how much he seemed to understand. He needed to leave. Needed to forget all about David Lambert, or Albert Potts, and walk away. Walk towards a new life. A respectable life.

  He walked down the stairs into the bar and spotted David sitting in the parlour. He was alone in there and he stared out of the window as he sipped at a cup of tea. The morning sun glanced off his hair, and although his entire posture was one of aristocratic entitlement, there was something of an air of loneliness about him. Jeremy steeled himself, shook his head, took one last look, and turned to speak to the barman about the mail coach. When he d
irected him to the stables, it took all he had to walk out of the inn and not go to David. He made himself walk out into the courtyard to see if he could find some information about the mail coach and where he might be able to purchase passage to find Elliot. He hailed one of the grooms to ask. He glanced back just in time to see David framed in the parlour window. He was standing. Watching. Jeremy raised a hand to wave as a surge of need so powerful it almost took him to his knees washed over him leaving him feeling shaken. But David had turned away. He watched him walk out of the room, one hand still raised, with a feeling of intense sadness. He might be a thief, but he was the kindest thief he had ever met. Jeremy smiled at the groomsman who came to talk to him and listened to the details of the mail coach’s timetables with half an ear as what David had said hit him anew. He hadn’t really processed what he had said. But there, in the weak morning sunshine, the words came back to him. The words he had spoken about the realisation that Jeremy loved to dress in the rich colours and soft textures of women’s clothing.

  I saw through it to you. The man inside.

  Jeremy swallowed as he recalled the rest of what he said.

  I take it from your silence you can’t do the same…

  Jeremy glanced at the groom who was clearly waiting for him to speak. “Beg pardon?” he mumbled as he tried to sift through his thoughts. Was that what he meant? Was he asking Jeremy to see through to the man inside? Was he asking…?

  * * * *

  David heard Jeremy come into the bar from his perch by the window in the parlour. He had managed some toast and tea, but his heart was thudding uncomfortably as he waited. He strained to hear the conversation with the barman, but he had his answer moments later when Jeremy left the building without so much as a word of farewell or a word of thanks. He bit down the sting of disappointment. Why the hell he had even imagined the lad would want to throw his lot in with him was a mystery. An even bigger mystery was why the hell he was bothering to try and persuade him to accompany him. It was a salutary lesson in not breaking the rules. With Jeremy, he had broken all three. No relations with staff, no return visits, and no kissing. Look where it had got him. What on earth had he been thinking?

  He put the cup down and stood to get a better view. He looked good in the clothes he had bought him. Every inch the young gent. He watched him talk to the groom, but when he looked up and saw him, David took one last look at those eyes and turned away. It was for the best.

  He settled his bill. His horses were rested and ready, so he took a deep breath. Right. London. Since he had just about emptied his pockets buying things for Jeremy, he had work to do. He cast a last glance around the inn, nodded his thanks to the barman, and headed out into the cold sunshine. His carriage was ready and waiting, the horses rested and fed, so he loaded his luggage and jumped up to the seat and picked up the reins. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Jeremy standing at the other side of the carriage, violet blue eyes wide and unblinking.

  “Christ!” he muttered as he grabbed the reins again, his sudden jerk spooked the horses and made them stamp, clattering hooves against the cobbles and jangling the harnesses.

  Jeremy stood determinedly clutching the portmanteau he had bought him. Smart in his new clothes, wind ruffling through his now silky, black hair.

  “What did you mean?” he said.

  David eyed him cautiously. “You have lost me.”

  “You said, I couldn’t do the same. What did you mean?”

  David knew exactly what he meant. The words had been spoken in the heat of the moment, and he had no desire to re-hash either them or his wayward feelings. He had closed the door on it. It was done.

  “I don’t have the foggiest notion of what you are on about. Would you excuse me?” he nodded in a pointed fashion.

  Jeremy put a hand on the carriage. “Yes, you do. Tell me what you meant.”

  David sighed. “For God’s sake…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “When I found out what you…enjoyed doing, I just saw it as a part of you, a part of the man I’d come to know. I didn’t throw a fit of the vapours.”

  No, he had thrown caution to the wind and fucked the man, discovering he apparently had something of a penchant for violet-eyed footmen dressed in women’s silks. Marvellous.

  “Now, will you please excuse me? I need to get on.”

  “I didn’t throw a fit of the vapours.”

  David arched a brow. “Of course not. Now, if you please?” He nodded to where Jeremy leaned on the carriage.

  “I didn’t. You are a thief. You stole things. You broke the law. That’s different.”

  “You fucked with me. You broke the law.” Why was he even arguing? He shook the reins and the horses moved, forcing Jeremy to stand away.

  “What I did, what we did, didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Speak for yourself,” David muttered under his breath.

  “What you did got me turned off, beaten and ridiculed. You did that, and it was me who was affected by what you did. That’s the difference.”

  David’s chest clenched uncomfortably, but he drew on every last ounce of aristocratic bearing he possessed and schooled his features into a mask of expressionless boredom.

  “And I offered to put it right, so stop bleating and move out of my way before the horses trample you.” He shook the reins and moved forward, wheeling the horses around to get out of the stable yard. He glanced at Jeremy who was still standing there, still frowning as though attempting to work out some puzzle.

  Gravel crunched noisily beneath his wheels and he straightened the carriage out, ready to drive under the archway to the road beyond, when Jeremy shouted.

  “Stop. Stop.” He ran and clutched the side of the carriage. “Take me with you.”

  David restrained the horses and closed his eyes. He had resigned himself to leaving Jeremy behind. Closed off the prospect. Decided. He would not be swayed by that pink flush, those violet eyes. The decision was made. He was better off alone. Always had been.

  Chapter 11

  David drove deliberately and carefully giving the road his full attention. It was better than paying attention to the man sat beside him. Christ, but he was stupid sometimes. The last thing he needed was to involve himself with someone. He had absolutely nothing to give and all this could lead to was grief.

  Jeremy sat close enough to feel the warmth from his body, but very determinedly not touching him, looking pale, tired, and anxious. Every line of his body screamed tension. David knew he was a master of the art of shutting people and things out of his life. In those moments at the inn where Jeremy had walked out without a word, he had shut him out. He had to. Now, he found he was having the damnedest time letting him back in. He still wasn’t sure if he should, or even if he could. He glanced at his companion. Those cheeks were white and pinched, not flushed and excited as they had been. He kept fidgeting on the seat, and David winced when he remembered the savage beating from that bastard of a butler. Added to that, they had driven at a fair clip and in total silence for a couple of hours. He sighed.

  “Would you like to stop?”

  “I’m fine.”

  David rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  Jeremy took a deep breath. “Are you angry with me?”

  David didn’t reply immediately, he just kept on staring straight ahead and handling the ribbons. Eventually, he slanted a swift, sideways glance at him. “Yes.”

  “I thought so,” Jeremy said and inspected his fingernails. “But you must surely see that…”

  David cut across him. “Are you still angry with me?”

  Jeremy thought for a moment and scowled. “Well, yes, but…”

  “Well, perhaps we both need to calm down and stop being angry before we discuss this any further. If we don’t, we will end up in another squabble and I, for one, do not want to do that. It would disturb the horses.”

  Jeremy just made a huffing noise and one glance showed him that mulish chin again.

  “We will be ar
riving back in civilisation before too long. My vote is we stop for a spot of luncheon and rest the horses. And your arse.”

  Jeremy looked over at him. Startled. “Actually, I need to go rather badly.”

  David relaxed, fractionally. They were passing woodland, so he pulled the carriage off the main highway, and drew to a stop. He jumped down and tethered the horses and watched Jeremy climb down carefully. He yawned and stretched to work out the kinks in his back before heading for the trees. David rummaged in a bag in the back of the carriage and came up with a couple of apples for the horses, and then headed off to the trees to relieve himself, too. They convened back at the carriage and stood awkwardly for a moment. Jeremy’s arms were clutched about his midriff, and he still looked pale and tense.

  “Are you in pain?” David asked, going to stand closer to him.

  Jeremy nodded, not looking at him.

  “Then let us stop at the next village and bespeak a room. I think you need to rest before we go any further and let the bruising go down.”

  “I’m fine, honestly…we aren’t that far from London now. It’s barely lunchtime.”

  “Do you really want to spend hours rattling about?”

  Jeremy looked at the ground and shook his head.

  * * * *

  Jeremy flopped gratefully onto the bed in the room David had procured for them. It was a very nice inn, yet again, with very pleasant accommodations. He wondered how on earth David kept finding these places as many coaching inns in his experience were flea ridden and dubious in the extreme. A roaring fire made the small room warm and cosy. He lay on his stomach and pushed his arms under the pillow, so he could rest his head. He hurt from head to toe. David had settled them into the room posing as brothers again and had requested luncheon be brought up. They had polished off a fine portion of ham and cheese with delicious pickles, and then David had disappeared.

  Jeremy rubbed his bare feet over the silky counterpane and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, David was laid beside him, fully clothed except for his shoes and stockings, reading a book.