To Love a Thief

by Darcy Burke

  “I see.” He gave her a sympathetic smile, then pressed his lips together. “However, you must understand, you can’t simply go around accusing earls of harboring stolen property. Especially not Lord Aldridge.”

  She felt heat climbing her neck and worked to keep her temper in check. “Why not? He was defensive and became agitated when I asked him about the pendant. It was most suspicious.”

  Mr. Bates’s fingertip stilled. “Why have you come to see me today?”

  She loosened her grip on her reticule in an effort to ease some of her tension, but her back stayed ramrod straight. “I would like to recover my property. I want you to ask Lord Aldridge to return it, and if he refuses, I want to prosecute him for its theft.”

  Mr. Bates slowly leaned back in his chair. “Miss Renwick, have you any notion the trouble this could cause you, or the expense? No, I'm sure you do not, or you wouldn’t have asked. Lord Aldridge is an earl. Furthermore, he promotes police reform and seeks to eliminate crime in London. The idea that he would steal anything is absurd.”

  Jocelyn wasn’t sure she could see Lord Aldridge behaving in an altruistic manner, but then her opinion of him was quite ruined due to his deceitful claim regarding the necklace. “Then I should think he’d be doubly pleased to see justice served. And since he’s clearly in possession of stolen property, he should want to track down the thieves who stole it from me.”

  The solicitor gave his head a slight shake, and Jocelyn had the sense he was suffering her proposition rather than listening to her with an open mind. “Can you prove this item is yours?”

  Triumph surged in her chest. “It bears a scratch in the glass covering the ivory. How could two identical pendants have the same defect?”

  Mr. Bates’s expression was patient, if a bit condescending. “I’m sure that seems like proof to you, but Aldridge could just as easily have damaged the pendant in his possession. You’d need something such as paperwork demonstrating ownership. Or perhaps a portrait of your mother wearing the piece. Anything that could provide evidence beyond simply your word that this pendant was in your family’s possession prior to two years ago. Do you have anything like that?”

  Jocelyn’s elation ebbed as she searched her memory. There was nothing in writing and no portrait. A sick feeling spread out from her midsection, carving a hollow pit in her belly and making her shoulders slump. “No.”

  His eyes crinkled with sympathy. “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you then. You see, this is a circumstance of your word against that of Lord Aldridge’s, and I’m afraid since he’s an earl … ” His voice trailed off, but his unspoken words were obvious: Jocelyn had no chance against his title.

  Outraged, Jocelyn recovered her rigid posture. “But that’s my necklace!”

  He averted his gaze from hers and shuffled the papers atop his desk. “Miss Renwick, if you could produce evidence that it belonged to you, we could try to recover the item. However, prosecution and a trial would be very expensive.” He cleared his throat and looked back at her. “I hate to be indelicate, but do you have the funds for such a lengthy and involved legal procedure?”

  She had very little funds, certainly not enough for what he was describing.

  Mr. Bates’s expression softened, and he gave her a kind smile. “I’m sorry I don’t have better information to share.”

  She suddenly felt as if the theft had just happened. As if she and Papa had returned home to find their servants bound in the scullery and their rooms stripped of everything valuable. Her flesh turned cold as it had back then, as she’d crept up the staircase filled with stark fear at what she would find. At least they hadn’t taken the actual jewelry box, only the half dozen pieces Mama had left her. And the watch fob Mama had given Papa, which he’d only left off that night because it had been in need of repair and he’d been afraid he might lose it.

  Jocelyn swallowed the lump rising in her throat and stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Bates.”

  He also stood, his forehead creasing. “If circumstances change … If you discover evidence and have the financial means, I invite you to contact me again.”

  She nodded, unable to summon even the meanest of smiles. Turning, she left the office and a few minutes later stepped into the bright afternoon. The sky was overcast, but the clouds were thin and high so that the sun’s presence was still felt and seen. It was what her father had called the typical London spring day.

  Papa. Her heart ached anew for his loss. He’d been utterly devastated by the theft of his late wife’s belongings, and his beloved watch fob in particular. His health had apparently been poor for some time—a fact he’d kept from Jocelyn—and the crime had sent him into an attack of the heart from which he’d never recovered.

  With heavy feet, Jocelyn set out toward Mayfair, where Gertrude had let a small town house for the Season. Her mind went over and over what Mr. Bates had told her. It couldn’t be hopeless! That necklace was hers. She clenched her fists. There had to be a way to get it back! If not lawfully, why then she’d steal it back. Her steps slowed as the idea took on more substance than just an emotional reaction.

  Could she steal it back? And do what with it? Wear it in public so Aldridge could call her a thief? No, she’d have to keep it hidden until she returned to Kent.

  Yes. This could work. Her shoulders straightened. It had to, because it was, unfortunately, her only recourse. Though her insides still quivered, she had a sense of purpose. Of hope.

  And perhaps just a bit of fear that she might get caught.

  DANIEL spied Miss Renwick exiting the offices of his friend, Jeremy Bates. He’d hoped to encounter her at another ball or party, had even considered calling on her, but this chance meeting was quite an excellent turn of fortune.

  He made his way to intercept her. “Good afternoon, Miss Renwick. What a pleasure to see you.”

  She tilted her face up. Her hazel gaze was direct and full of purpose. “Lord Carlyle, what a nice surprise.”

  He glanced behind her at his friend’s office. “Were you visiting Mr. Bates?”

  She nodded. “I was. Unfortunately, he was not able to help me.”

  He frowned, disappointed that the usually brilliant solicitor had somehow failed Miss Renwick. “I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps I should have a word with him on your behalf.”

  She shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Will you at least allow me to accompany you to your destination?”

  Her brow knitted very briefly, as if she were considering his offer and about to reject it. But then her lips spread into a full smile. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  She laid her hand on his forearm. It was a simple touch, far more innocuous than their waltz the other night, but Daniel’s entire body heated, starting at the very spot where her palm rested on his sleeve and spreading out to every part of him.

  He forced himself to come up with an appropriate topic of conversation lest he dwell on her alluring scent. Apples. He knew his fruit, unlike flowers, and she smelled like apples. “Will you visit Bow Street next?”

  “I don’t think so. Mr. Bates gave me to believe my case may be hopeless. I can’t produce evidence the stolen item belonged to me. It would be my word against the person who now possesses it, and I’m afraid I’m outranked.” She shared the information calmly, but he detected an undercurrent in her tone and her hand tensed against his sleeve.

  He was outraged on her behalf. “That’s hardly fair.”

  “No, it’s not, but what can I do? There are no living witnesses who can attest to the item belonging to me or my family, and I have no documentation or other proof the item was mine. Is mine.” Her voice creaked with bitterness.

  “Can I ask what the item is?”

  “A necklace that belonged to my mother. It and a few other pieces that were also stolen were the only items I had of hers.”

  Daniel’s own hands tensed. He longed to curl his fingers around the neck of the thief who’d
stolen not just Miss Renwick’s treasures, but the only tangible remnants she’d had of her mother.

  She tipped her head up. “I wonder, my lord, if you might consider helping me in one area. You did offer assistance.”

  “Of course. I’d be delighted.”

  She smiled prettily. “I’d like for Mrs. Harwood to have a truly wonderful Season, and unfortunately our invitations have not been as plentiful as we might have hoped.”

  He saved her having to outright ask. The irony of him helping someone in this social fashion was rich, but he was glad he could do it for her. “I would be happy to secure some invitations for you and Mrs. Harwood.”

  “Just for Mrs. Harwood, really. I’m merely her companion.”

  He didn’t think she was “merely” anything, but kept the opinion to himself for now. He was looking forward to courting Miss Renwick. And yes, he’d just decided to do that. A shock of anticipation shot through him. “Lord Aldridge is having a large dinner party tomorrow night. I’m certain Mrs. Harwood—and you—can be included.”

  Her eyes sparkled beneath the brim of her bonnet. “Thank you, my lord. I daresay that’s perfect.”

  Chapter Three

  DANIEL APPROACHED Lady Aldridge at her dinner party the following night. A charming young woman who’d been as helpful to him as her husband, she greeted Daniel with a smile. “Good evening, Carlyle,” she said, extending her hand.

  Daniel bowed and feathered a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “Good evening, my lady.” He stood and stepped closer to her side. “I wanted to personally thank you for inviting Mrs. Harwood. Has she arrived?”

  “Yes, she’s in the drawing room, I believe. I’m happy to invite whomever you wish. You know you can count on me.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “We may play some games after dinner. I’ll make sure you and Miss Renwick are partnered together. That is why you had me invite Mrs. Harwood, isn’t it? So Miss Renwick would be here?”

  Lord Aldridge joined them at that moment, but his mouth was turned down as he looked at Daniel. “I feel it’s my place to say you can do far better than Miss Renwick. Indeed, you should do better. You’ve a bright future, and you need a viscountess trained as the consummate hostess and Society wife.”

  Daniel’s first instinct was to tell his patron to keep his opinions to himself, but as he’d spent the last two years soliciting the man’s counsel, such a reaction seemed ungrateful. Instead, he slowly nodded once. “I see your point. However, I should like to make a match like yours and Lady Aldridge’s. And, as you know, I’ve yet to meet a woman who has sparked my fancy.”

  Lady Aldridge gave him a knowing smile. “I’ve always thought you were a secret romantic.”

  Only since meeting Miss Renwick, which was at once terrible and exciting.

  He was thankfully saved from commenting by Aldridge scoffing. “Don’t encourage him in that direction. Miss Renwick is a nobody. I’ve invited Lord and Lady Winslow, and they’ve brought their daughter Lady Caroline.” He looked to his wife. “You’ve seated her and Carlyle together for dinner as I instructed?”

  “Of course. They’re right next to each other.”

  He beamed at Lady Aldridge. “Excellent. Speaking of Lord Winslow, I must go and greet him.” Aldridge looked to Daniel. “Come with me, Carlyle.”

  He should, and normally would have. But the pull of Miss Renwick in the drawing room was too much to resist. “I’ll join you shortly.”

  Aldridge pursed his lips, but gave a nod and took himself off.

  Lady Aldridge leaned in. “Never fear. I put Miss Renwick on your other side.” She laughed softly and while Daniel appreciated her thoughtfulness, he was certain Aldridge would disapprove. Well, he’d leave that between them.

  “Thank you, my lady. If you’ll excuse me.” He flashed her a smile, which she returned with a slight wave of her fingertips.

  Daniel entered the drawing room a few moments later and immediately scanned for Miss Renwick. He suppressed a frown when she wasn’t there. Her employer, Mrs. Harwood, was seated with another older woman, their heads bent in conversation. Disappointed, he turned and exited. He considered a moment before his feet took him to Aldridge’s office—the place he felt most comfortable. He was still not quite at ease at these sorts of events, even after a year in Society.

  Daniel recalled the day he’d learned of his inheritance as if it were yesterday. A solicitor had come into the magistrate’s office in Queen Square and informed him of the death of his father’s second cousin, Viscount Carlyle, and his son. That had been a year after his father’s death and without his presence, Daniel hadn’t a clue what to do next. Fortunately, the former viscount’s secretary and valet, and the butler at Carlyle Hall, had turned out to be stalwart aides in educating him. He wouldn’t say he’d mastered any of it, but he could at least muddle through his duties.

  Aldridge had been the other integral piece of his training. They’d met at the Queen Street office when Aldridge, a proponent of police reform, had stopped in to talk with the constables on a few occasions. When he learned Daniel had inherited, he’d traveled to Essex to extend his sympathy and his assistance.

  Daniel didn’t know how he would’ve managed any of it without him. Every other nobleman he knew had been born and bred to their position, whereas Daniel hadn’t known the first thing about his role in the House of Lords, how to manage his retainers, or how to acquit himself at a social event. Aldridge had, quite plainly, saved him from total humiliation and failure.

  Daniel reached Aldridge’s office and went inside. What greeted him made him stop in his tracks. “Miss Renwick?”

  She stopped, her hand on the desk drawer she’d just closed. She stood straight and smoothed her skirt. Dots of pink colored her cheeks. She would have looked alluring if she hadn’t also looked guilty. “Good evening, my lord. I do believe I’m in the wrong room.”

  Wishing to conduct his interview in private—and he intended to conduct an interview as the constable in him roared to the surface—he closed the door behind him. “What are you looking for in Lord Aldridge’s office?”

  “Nothing. As I said, I’m in the wrong place. I was looking for the retiring room.” She moved around the desk and made for the door.

  Daniel stepped into her path. “You thought the retiring room might be contained in the desk drawer?”

  The pink in her cheeks darkened and spread. “Of course not. If you’ll excuse me.” She made to move past him, but he placed his hand on her forearm.

  “I will not. At least not until you tell me what you were doing. You can’t expect me to believe you were simply in the wrong room. You were looking for something. Tell me what it was.”

  She moved away from him as if his touch burned her. Maybe it did. The feel of her skin beneath his palm was enough to heat him in the most inappropriate places.

  “Please, my lord. I was mistaken. Just let me go.” Then she dashed for the exit.

  Daniel went after her, but she’d already opened the door and was stepping into the corridor. He stopped short lest he tackle her over the threshold, but then she spun on her heel and charged right back into him, sending him stumbling backward. She gained her balance, turned, and shut the door firmly.

  Daniel lurched forward and, without thinking, pinned her against the door. He laid his palms on either side of her shoulders against the wood. “What the devil is going on?”

  “Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Someone is in the corridor.”

  That’s why she’d come right back into the office. He didn’t move away from her. Instead, he enjoyed the heat of her body, the flush of her exertion, the shallow pant of her breath. She kept her eyes averted, but Daniel would get her to look at him soon enough.

  “Unless you want me to open this door and let all and sundry see us together, you’ll tell me what the hell you were doing in Lord Aldridge’s office.”

  Her eyes snapped to his, their hazel depths flashing. She said, “You wouldn’t,” but her tone was
laced with doubt.

  He watched the muscle in her throat work as her pulse sped beneath her flesh, and her chest heaved. “You don’t know me well enough to say for sure. Do you want to find out?”

  She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his. He leaned a trifle closer until her breasts were almost touching his chest. Though she was petite, she was gently curved in all the right places. Her fresh apple scent assaulted him as surely as her proximity.

  “Remember what I told you? About my stolen—”

  Voices sounded outside, and Daniel instinctively put a finger to her lips. She’d kept her voice low, but only silence would do. How many times had he had to stop an informant from speaking so they wouldn’t be overheard?

  Her eyes widened. Was it because of the imminent danger in the corridor or because he was touching her mouth? A number of illicit thoughts raced through his mind. Perhaps she was feeling the same.

  After a few breathless moments, the voices faded. Daniel gently exhaled, letting his shoulders relax and his finger—regrettably—drop from her lips. He braced his hand against the door near her head, again caging her within his arms. “Your stolen property?”

  She blinked at him as if she didn’t remember who he was, let alone what they’d been speaking of. Then she gave her head a slight shake. “Yes,” she whispered. “Lord—or I suppose Lady—Aldridge is the man in possession of my necklace.”

  She had to be mistaken. “Are you certain it’s your necklace? Perhaps it’s merely another one like it.”

  “Just like it?” She pursed her lips. “It’s a one-of-a-kind pendant. Hand-painted on ivory.”

  “How can you be sure it’s one of a kind?”

  Frustrated lines etched across her forehead and around her mouth. “Because my father commissioned it from the artist specifically for my mother. It commemorated their first meeting, when he took her for a boat ride. Furthermore, it has a scratch in the glass—which I caused when I knocked it off Mama’s dressing table.”