It made Jude’s decision to push the vase on Lord Cartwright all the more important and exceedingly imperative. The notion of replacing the money—with much to spare—before Marce’s return from her upcoming trip filled Jude with a sense of usefulness. She just hoped that Marce would not look in the chest before departing.
The day would surely come when her family was charged with helping more women and they needed to be prepared for that responsibility. It was a task she and her siblings took very seriously since their mother’s passing—to help those in need, something their mother, Sasha, hadn’t been prepared to do.
Chapter 8
Cart repositioned the inkpot once more, moving it a hair to the left, then aligned the stack of correspondence he’d brushed out of place when adjusting the ink. He sat up a bit straighter in his chair and put on his spectacles, but just as quickly removed them. Again, something with him was off. Today should be no different than any previous day. While Cart was partial to things in their place, he’d never been one to fuss over the exact settlement of items on his desk—as long as they were all there and not removed, it suited him.
Looking around the room, he noticed more objects out of place or missing altogether, which should be hard to spot in his sparsely furnished study that doubled as his library and housed many of his most prized antiquities. He pushed back in his chair and stood, moving across the room to a deceiving landscape painting hanging nearest the door and farthest from any source of natural light so as not to compromise the oil’s integrity.
It was one of his first acquisitions and meant nothing in the grand scheme of collectibles. The small painting had cost him little but had been commissioned by his father around the time of Cart’s birth—it depicted his family’s country estate, a true manor home, known to him before his life had been ruined. His father’s passing was only the start of things. Now, Cart was unable to journey to the place that held so many fond memories for him; a place that had been filled with love and contentment. A wonderful mother, who had ceased to exist in her former state, and only the vague remembrance of a man who’d taken him about the land, tending decaying roofs alongside his tenants and hearing grievances, were all that remained.
Cart’s biggest regret was having never located the other painting his father had commissioned at the same time—another landscape, but of the opposite view of his ancestral estate. He’d gone so far as to spread falsehoods about the painting’s worth, longing for someone to find it and contact him as a buyer for the piece—alas, no one had come forth with the other painting and Cart continued to speak of it when meeting with other collectors.
Currently, the country house was filled with the keepsakes and belongings of another family. Cart had been forced to allow another lord and his relatives to live in the home he’d cherished, only collecting enough rent to keep the property from total deterioration.
The opportunity to enjoy a carefree existence in the country surrounded by people who’d served the Cartwright Earldom for decades had been stripped from Theo—something that Cart would one day rectify.
Cart looked to the large chair pushed close to the window for light where Theo sat, curled under a blanket, reading yet another novel. If it were a book about the formation of the British colonies or a tale of pirates and treasure, he didn’t care. She was happy, made evident by the smile that played about her face, reaching all the way to her eyes. He was determined to give his younger sibling far more than had been taken from his family.
The coin stolen was returning, bit by bit, with Cart’s hard work.
The heirlooms and other family treasures were being located slowly but surely, though Cart lacked the funds to acquire them all.
One day, he would journey to his childhood home and reclaim what was theirs—for himself, but mostly for Theo.
He watched as she brushed one long plait from her shoulder and gazed out the window in thought. They were so much alike—their mannerisms, their looks, and especially their love of knowledge. It was his hope that soon he’d have the funds to send her to a proper school, giving her the education she craved. No more tutors, no more living under their mother’s thumb, no more suppressing who she wanted to be. Theo would have the chance to accomplish all she dreamed of—and it would not be cut short, as had happened to him. There would be no snake in the grass, pulling the metaphorical rug out from under her feet. If she chose to be a female doctor, or a barrister—or even a captain of a ship, setting out to explore the wild oceans—he would give her that, with no conditions, no drawbacks, and no worries.
“Simon?”
He blinked several times to clear the haze from his sight, wishing he hadn’t removed his glasses.
“Is something troubling you?” Theo closed her book and wedged it between her leg and the arm of the chair. “You look pensive, as usual, but also a sheen has appeared across your forehead.”
It was not proper to burden his younger sibling with his worries, so Cart smiled and laughed. The sound was brittle to his ears. He was certain if it went on another second it would crack and turn into a sigh. “I am grand. Promise,” he answered. “I am awaiting a guest.”
“Oh, who is coming?” Theo uncurled her legs, her stare following Cart as he made his way back to his desk—attempting to appear normal. “Are you meeting about another treasure? May I see it? Is it the scepter you spoke of a few days ago?”
This time, Cart did laugh. The tension in his shoulders was temporarily released.
As much as he viewed her as an educated young woman, she was little more than a child. A child, he knew, who specifically loved shiny things—seeing them, holding them, and researching them.
“Not to disappoint you, but my guest has nothing to do with work.” He’d expected her to lose interest when she heard this, yet he’d underestimated where her actual attention lay. Not in his business ventures or the many antiquities that passed through their home, but rather in her brother’s activities. “I am afraid my meeting today—more of a visit, actually—is nothing of grand import.”
“Nothing of grand import, dear brother?” she queried. “You have organized your desk three times, put on and removed your spectacles more times than that, and you are now seeking to defuse my interest in the matter. It can only be one thing…”
Cart did not like how her voice trailed off as if she’d come to some foregone conclusion that any right-minded person would.
It was best he remain silent—and by no means realign his collection of pens on his desk.
“A woman is calling.”
Cart looked up from where he stared at the smooth surface of his desk to meet her look. He found nothing but certainty there.
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“At first, I suspected it was a man of a certain age—mother’s specific age—who was coming to meet with you—“
“Why is that?” Cart prided himself on being discreet or, at least, not completely readable. He was much more guarded since his return from Eton.
“The way you pushed Momma out of the house, even sending her on an errand for you.” Theo paused, rising from the chair. She paced to the door slowly, her forefinger tapping her chin as she did. “But then, you remained on edge, checking the clock several times and even moving to the looking glass hung in the hall.”
“I did no such thing.” At least, Cart hadn’t meant to pause before the large mirror to take stock of his cravat, less elaborate today but still finely pressed and tied. Nor had he suspected he’d disturbed her reading. “I seek to verify all is well, that is all. And I do apologize if my movements disturbed you in any way.”
“So, you do have a woman calling.” She bounced in excitement, clasping her hands to her chest. “This is wonderful news.”
He in no way understood how Theo equated a woman calling on him as wonderful news—or even newsworthy information. “She is coming to see some of my antiquities, that is all. She is a collector of sorts, as am I.”
“This is far better than I pre
viously thought,” Theo said, moving to his desk and motioning him to stand. She looked from his hair, brushed as was proper, to his necktie and the lines of his coat. She couldn’t see past that because he still stood behind his desk, but he felt ridiculous to have his twelve-year-old sister appraising his appearance. It was absurd, but what worried him further was that Cart desperately wanted to ask if he looked satisfactory. “I had wondered why you’d taken an enhanced liking to cravat knots. I’d thought it only another thing you’d set out to master, but now, yes, you’ve done a fine job learning.”
The hall clock in the foyer struck once, and he stiffened, placing his hands flat on the desk before him as he breathed deeply.
He could not reconcile why Miss Jude made him feel so…so…tense and anxious.
She was no more than any other woman of his acquaintance. It did not signify that she was as beautiful as the great Helen of Troy, who he’d seen in an ancient text—if she allowed her light auburn hair to flow freely. Nor should it matter that she found interest in many of the things Cart did.
She was merely a woman.
As he was simply a man.
And they were meeting today not to speak of men and women, or any attraction that one may feel for the other, fairer sex.
A loud knock echoed down the hall and made its way to his study.
Effectively stopping his train of thought before it strayed to something very improper—and made it impossible for him to leave the safety of his desk chair for fear all would take notice of where his mind lay.
“Theo, is it not near time for you to start your afternoon studies?” He knew she couldn’t refute his words. After all, he’d planned Jude’s arrival to coincide with his mother’s charity meeting and Theo’s afternoon tutoring session. His only mistake was thinking that anything ever went as planned. Not even the smallest of things—a social call—could go as planned. “You cannot expect to attain the position of barrister if you do not study well.”
“I am not studying to be a barrister,” she retorted. He knew his words would vex her. She had little interest in the law. “But Mr. LeMaux should be awaiting me. I will leave you to your guest, but I cannot promise I will not discuss this with Momma.” A twinkle lit her eyes with her thinly veiled threat.
The little minx was blackmailing him. “What do you seek, Theo?” He gave in to his sister, knowing anything she could ask for was far less demanding than his mother would be if she heard.
“The scepter—I want to hold it.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
It was an impossible request, especially since Cart hadn’t located the item as yet.
“No,” Cart said, hearing the front door close. “Anything else?”
Theo grinned and Cart knew he’d been taken once more. She’d never thought he would allow her to hold a scepter fabled to be over a thousand years old, but she’d used the ploy to attain what she truly desired.
“I’d like to meet her.”
“Another impossibility.” Cart feared he’d be so tongue-tied he’d start rambling off mathematical equations or the scientific method for freezing water.
“Come now, Brother,” she whined, setting her hands on her hips. “You must promise me something for keeping your escapades from Momma.”
Escapades? A female caller during the height of visiting hours could hardly be classified as an escapade.
“I will compromise with you,” he gave in. “You hide in the shadows of the hall, behind the large potted fern, and you can sneak a glimpse of Miss Jude from there.” Theo began to bounce up and down once more. “But, you are not to say a word. She is not to know you are watching.”
“Yes, yes.” Theo could barely contain her joy. “I promise—not a peep from me.”
“And when we enter the study, you will continue on to your tutoring?”
“Of course,” she squealed.
“I must say, your interest in this baffles me,” he confided. “But let us get this over with. Gain your position and I will go to receive Miss Jude properly.”
Chapter 9
Jude understood the grave mistake she’d made the minute she stepped over the threshold and into Lord Cartwright’s home. Her hesitancy had nothing to do with her being an unchaperoned female of worth arriving at a gentleman’s home without proper companionship. In fact, Sam had fairly begged to come with her. Languishing on and on about the usefulness of a man such as Lord Cartwright. Jude hadn’t liked her sister’s tone or her insinuation when she’d spoken of Cart—namely, the chances of him having a collection so vast he wouldn’t notice an item or two missing.
Even the sparsely decorated and meagerly furnished home before her wasn’t what put her on high alert as to her surroundings and the critical error she’d made by accepting the butler’s request for her to enter. Certainly, the paltry adornment of the foyer with its brass sconces, lack of portrait where one had clearly once hung, and the bare floor should have sent her running—giving her sincerest apologies and fleeing the house at once.
It had nothing to do with her improper appearance at a gentleman’s home or the fact that Lord Cartwright was anything but wealthy.
No, Jude wanted to—needed to—depart with all haste because she currently stood in the home she’d almost been caught trespassing in. That she hadn’t noticed the neighborhood when her carriage had delivered her, spoke to her severely compromised thinking where Cart was concerned. She wished she had brought Sam with her now. At least she would have had one person with the common sense to extricate her from this delicate—and dangerous—situation.
“Miss Jude,” Cart called to her from down the hall, the direction of the only locked door she’d encountered during her first trip here—ending in her choice to depart the house with all haste. It was only fitting that it held all his treasures. “I am pleased you could come.”
“My lord,” Jude said in greeting. It was almost as if he were surprised at her appearance. Made odder by the note and directions she’d received with her morning meal, requesting her presence at this exact time and place. “We spoke of your collection. I thank you for the invitation to view it.”
Jude clutched her handbag until Cart stood before her, smiling.
He clearly didn’t notice her fretting, nor had the butler sounded the alarm at her arrival. Was it possible the little girl who’d discovered her hadn’t shared any further information about Jude’s appearance? The young woman who Jude now suspected was Cart’s sister. He had mentioned a sibling; she was sure of it.
“Please, come this way.” Cart turned back the way he’d come and Jude followed slowly behind him. She peered down one hall, expecting the girl to jump out and expose Jude for the thief she was, but the house was eerily quiet. As it had been the night she’d entered through that unlocked window.
“Ah,” she said tentatively. “You have a sister, do you not?”
“I do.” He kept his eyes straight ahead as they walked.
“Mine are always underfoot,” Jude continued. “How do you keep yours from doing the same?”
“She is in the school room at his hour, dedicated to her studies.”
Jude breathed a sigh of relief, quickly continuing to mask her slip. “That is an admirable quality. Learning, especially for women, is very important.”
“My sister is far from being considered a woman,” he snapped, a bit too harshly.
“I did not mean to—“
“No, no,” he mused, glancing at her quickly before focusing once more on their path. “It is not your comment but my sister’s insistence she be treated as an adult.”
“My youngest sister, Payton, is much the same.” Jude’s tension eased as they moved farther into the house, knowing the girl was not lurking around any corner. “I believe you garnered a rather good example of her antics when you visited the other day.”
“That I did.” The room he led her to was the one she’d been unable to gain entrance to, but today, it stood unlocked and open—almost invitingly so.
She couldn’t help but suspect that he searched for something but did not find it where it belonged.
“Shall I ring for tea?” He always seemed uncertain with social norms and decorum, though today, he seemed in command of his person—a new confidence taking over. Much like the other occasions they’d discussed topics surrounding antiquities and collecting.
“Yes, thank you,” Jude replied, though she’d come for things that didn’t include food or drink. “Unless you do not find yourself parched, my lord.”
This was the man Jude found she liked most; self-assured and in control, though his timid and uneasy side was just as prevalent. It interested her greatly how quickly Lord Cartwright shifted dispositions.
Her brother—the only man she was routinely near—seemed consistent with his nature.
The room was exactly as Jude had pictured it. Most collectors were known for their cluttered rooms, teeming with objects, books, and the like, but not Lord Cartwright. He favored a more thinly furnished and orderly study, free from the chaos Jude had a tendency to favor. Every item had its place. It suited him well—however, she was unable to reconcile which personality this structured life came from.
Did it fall in line with his obsessive nature of things, or did it show his confidence?
Or possibly, there was an entire third option she’d yet to witness.
Jude took a seat in a tall-backed chair and surveyed the room at greater length when Lord Cartwright hurried around the room, gathering pieces to show her—after all, that’s what she had visited for. Bordering a large bank of windows, a plush chair sat pushed against the wall with a book lying forgotten on the seat. She envisioned curling up in the chair with the tome open on her lap, the windows overlooking a back garden or the stables below. Maybe a fire would be roaring in the hearth with Cart inspecting a new acquisition, or reading a book close by. It would only be an hour’s time before the butler would summon them for supper and prepare for their evening at the playhouse or maybe a soiree. They would laugh and exclaim how they’d both been lost in their individual musings. She blinked several times to banish the image and thoughts from her mind—she barely knew the man sitting opposite her. Any future she conjured was one based on false impressions and misleading truths.
Thief Steals Her Earl Page 9
