The Art of Stealing a Duke’s Heart: Thieves of Desire Book 1

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Jonathan looked past him to the walls of the office and the statues that lined the shelves.

  “You have a fair bit of artwork that could be sold off, do you not?”

  The baron steepled his fingers together in front of him.

  “I do,” he said with a nod. “You have a good eye. But the truth is, Your Grace, I am not getting any younger, and my son, well, I’m not sure how the lands will fare under his leadership. I am concerned for the wellbeing of the people, the animals, the land itself… It might be best under the hand of someone who knows what he is doing. My son has never cared enough to pay any attention.”

  “Fair point,” Jonathan said, respecting the man’s honesty as well as his dedication to his tenants and the people who worked for him. It was not often one saw such commitment that he was willing to give up part of his own property to ensure the welfare of others.

  Footsteps suddenly pounded overhead, interrupting them, and the man’s worried face eased into a smile. “My grandchildren,” he said. “It seems they have found your niece and nephew. Good of you to bring them.”

  Jonathan thought of their pleading for him to do so, and managed a nod. “Of course.”

  “Your man of business likely provided you with my thoughts on what I’d like for the land,” the baron said. “Now the question is, what do you think it’s worth?”

  The two of them began negotiations, and before long, they were standing, shaking hands after coming to an agreement that they both seemed to be pleased with.

  “Would you like to see my gallery?” the baron asked, light entering his eyes, and Jonathan nodded.

  “Very much so.”

  The baron’s “gallery” was not so much a shrine to the art such as Jonathan’s own room, but was more so a parlor or sitting room that had been redesigned to accommodate his many statues, all of which appeared to be Greek in origin.

  “Fascinating,” Jonathan said as he wandered the room, reminding himself of Calli when she had first entered his own gallery. “Where did you come by most of these sculptures?”

  “Some were brought back to England by Elgin himself,” the baron said, raising his bushy eyebrows.

  “With the Elgin marbles?”

  “The very ones,” the baron said, his eyes gleaming, “although most of them ended up in the Museum. Others I have accumulated over the years, from other collectors, or from those who have gone on acquisition trips.”

  “I see,” Jonathan said. “How have you organized them?”

  “By date of origin, or at least, by date as well as we can determine,” the baron said, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around him with a sigh. “Unfortunately, my collecting days may be at an end for now, but I will do what I can to look after what I have. And, in the meantime,” he said as he turned to Jonathan with a twinkle still in his eye, “I have made sure that my daughter is the one who will look after them once I am gone.”

  Jonathan grinned at that, wishing for a moment that he could give away his own inheritance as he wished and not as how he was entitled to by law and tradition. Although he supposed he was no different than the baron — he could do as he wished with anything not entailed.

  He was nearly finished his perusal of the room when he came to the final shelf, closest to the door.

  “What used to be here?” he asked, pointing to a circle where it seemed a statue had used to stand. “Did you have to sell something off?”

  “I’ve sold nothing off,” the baron said before lumbering across the room. “Where?”

  Jonathan showed him, and the baron’s expression lost all signs of a twinkle, his countenance growing rather irate as his face reddened.

  “There should be a statue here of Perseus,” he said, looking around as though Perseus was going to jump out from behind a pillar nearby. “Where is it?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jonathan said, uncertain of just whether or not he was supposed to answer that question. “Perhaps it was moved for cleaning?”

  “No one touches my collection except for my butler,” the baron said. “I trust no one but the man who has been with me the longest. One slight hit by an errant duster from a new maid, and thousands of pounds could be shattered to the floor in a moment.”

  Jonathan also thought that the pieces of history that would be scattered might also elicit a reason to be wary, but he didn’t feel that it was his place nor the time to say anything.

  “Perhaps the butler knows then,” Jonathan said as the baron went out to the corridor, calling for the man.

  The butler, however, seemed as bewildered as the two of them.

  “Well,” the baron said, raising his hands in the air, “I am sorry to end our visit on such a note. At least everything else went quite well and I thank you, Your Grace, for coming all this way.”

  As though on cue, the children appeared from upstairs, their faces red but their manners intact.

  “We are ready to depart,” Jonathan said to Mary, Matthew, and Calli, who all nodded, and Jonathan couldn’t help but note the baron’s appreciation for Calli as she walked by. Even though he was well aware that there was nothing to fear from the man, nor that Calli might potentially be interested in someone old enough to be, at the very least, her father, he still questioned just where this jealousy had come from and whether or not it was warranted. It was most certainly not welcomed.

  “You shall hear from my man of business regarding the particulars,” Jonathan said before leaving. “And best of luck in locating your statue.”

  The man nodded, and Jonathan greeted the fresh air with a smile.

  It had been a good day, indeed.

  Chapter 16

  Calli couldn’t seem to properly hold onto anything that night at dinner. Every utensil seemed to practically fall out of her fingers, she nearly dropped the gravy bowl, and then she succeeded in spilling drops of red wine on her dress, which was, thankfully, a dark navy tonight.

  “Is there anything amiss, Miss Donahue?” Jonathan asked from the head of the table, looking at her inquisitively.

  “No, nothing at all,” she said with what she hoped was a breezy tone. “Just tired, I suppose, from the riding today.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken you if I had realized how taxing it would be,” Jonathan said, causing Calli to receive twin glares of ire from her charges.

  “Nothing to worry about,” she said, willing the conversation to move elsewhere.

  She wasn’t so lucky.

  “You seem to need more sleep, Miss Donahue,” Jonathan said. “Best be to bed early tonight.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” she said with a nod, as she stared at the plate in front of her, her only actions at the moment moving the food around her plate, hoping it would seem that she was eating.

  But her entire appetite had fled. She was far too unsettled, far too unsure, far too caught between two worlds, neither of which seemed to completely embrace her.

  She had made a decision in the space of a moment, and now she had no idea whether or not she had done the right thing.

  Only she had the sense that, from the guilt that hung upon her like a cloak of doom, it had been very, very wrong.

  Calli had only ever wanted to be accepted by her family, regarded to be as good as the rest of them, as willing and as capable. Yet she had always been relegated to the sidelines — the decoy, the lookout; that had been all she was good for. Until now.

  Remembering Xander’s visit, Arie’s words, all of the expectations placed upon her and the fact that she had, so far, failed miserably, when she had seen the room of statues in the baron’s estate, she had acted nearly without thought.

  The weight of that little statue in her pocket had been dragging her around ever since.

  She knew what Arie would say to her guilty thoughts — that the room of Greek treasures no more belonged to the baron than it did to any of them. That the relics of his homeland belonged back in Greece. Never mind that Arie would likely sell them to the highest Greek bidder wit
hout a shred of guilt in doing so as he pocketed the money, but only to a Greek bidder would they go.

  No, her guilt didn’t lie there. Her guilt lay in the fact that she had betrayed Jonathan’s trust, had entered the baron’s house as one of Jonathan’s family — even if she was part of the family of staff — and had deceived him.

  Even though, in the end, she was only here to betray him in a way far more personal and to a much greater extent.

  “Miss Donahue?”

  Calli blinked a few times, coming back to the present to see Jonathan and his niece and nephew all staring at her inquisitively.

  “Yes?”

  “We said your name about five times,” Matthew complained, and Calli shook away her doubts.

  “I’m so sorry. What was it you needed?”

  “Uncle was telling us about his plans.”

  “Oh?” She looked up at Jonathan to find that he was gazing at her intently, as though he could unlock all of her secrets with that stare of his. If he ever did… Calli was finished.

  “We will be returning to London,” he said, keeping his eyes on her, as though determining what her reaction might be.

  “We will?” Calli asked, trying to keep her expression neutral. She knew she should be celebrating the fact. It would mean that she could ensure the accuracy of her painting, that she could meet with her family if necessary, and that she was that much closer to finishing this entire charade and returning to her life.

  And yet… she didn’t want this to end. She was enjoying herself far too much, with Jonathan, and with the children. Children who had started this journey trying to trick her, and a man who she never thought she would ever see smile. Now, their joy and their smiles were all that she seemed to care for, while thoughts for her own family came secondary.

  What was becoming of her?

  “My business here is concluded,” Jonathan said, taking a sip of his wine but not removing his eyes from her. “I must return to Parliament.”

  “Will we come back to Wyndmere, Uncle?” Matthew asked earnestly, and Calli could understand why the children so loved it here. The house was spacious, and the grounds provided ample space for the children to play and ride and climb trees. In addition to enjoying their time with the baron’s grandchildren, Matthew and Mary had met the neighbor’s children who were near to the same age, and Calli could see them spending much time together.

  “Yes, after the Season, I think we should return for a time,” he said, smiling at Calli. “What do you think Miss Donahue?”

  Calli started, realizing he was almost… consulting with her. “I think that would be lovely,” she said softly, even as she realized she would not be here with them. She would be gone by then. And they would hate her.

  “Good,” he said, his lips curling up into a rather seductive smile just for her, and at the flare of his nostrils and the gleam in his eyes, a shudder shook through Calli, knowing just what he was thinking of.

  More time for the two of them. Alone.

  Suddenly she desired it with every part of her being. If what Jonathan had done for her the other night was a taste of what would come if he was to ever fully make love to her… then she might not be able to handle it.

  She swallowed hard, finally wrenching her eyes away from him, unable to meet his stare any longer. For what was she to do? Once he discovered who she truly was and what she was doing here with him, he would want nothing more to do with her.

  But he didn’t know. Not now. And if everything went according to Arie’s plan, he never would.

  Perhaps… she toyed with the stem of her wine glass. Perhaps she should allow to happen what they both so obviously wanted. Was that incredibly selfish? Would he hate her even more? Or would it be the one thing she could give him, when she would be taking everything else away?

  She sighed. There was no right answer. There never was.

  * * *

  Jonathan knew something was wrong. Calli was many things — exuberant, eager, easily pleased. But she was never this melancholy ghost of herself. He wouldn’t normally care. It shouldn’t be any of his concern. As long as his employees did the job they were hired to do, that was all that mattered to him.

  Except for Calli. Calli had come to matter. She had found her way into a heart that he thought had long turned itself off to any potential affection for another.

  He sighed as he paced in front of her bedchamber. He assumed the children were sleeping, and he remembered his own advice for her to retire early. But he needed to talk to her. Finally, he stepped up and knocked ever so lightly on the door.

  It took her so long to answer that he wondered for a moment if she was even within. But then the door finally opened a crack, and she peeked her head out. All he could see was one sliver of her face, and an abundance of curl.

  “Calli?” he whispered. “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

  “No,” came her response, before she pulled the door open just wide enough that she could step out into the hall. “Is there something amiss?”

  “No. Yes. I—”

  He was sounding like a youth in the first blush of love. He sighed. “It seemed there was something wrong at dinner. I wanted to make sure that you were well.”

  She seemed surprised as she nodded. “I am. My apologies. It’s nothing to be concerned with.”

  “But there is something.”

  She looked down for a moment before staring back up at him, and it took Jonathan another few seconds to realize the emotion that was swimming within her eyes.

  Desire.

  “I want you,” she said, her voice hoarse at the words that she didn’t seem to fully believe herself. “Desperately. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Jonathan nearly fell backward at her revelation. He had felt it the other night, had known she would have been willing for more, but he had been sure that she would never act upon it. He had been equally sure that it would be the wrong thing to do, that he should be the responsible duke he was and not allow his own near-unbridled passions to sully another.

  He closed his eyes, trying to summon all of the control that Calli was attempting to undo.

  “Calli, I—”

  Before he reopened his eyes, however, she had launched herself into his arms, nearly pushing him back against the wall behind him, and his arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close, as he attempted to both talk and kiss her back at the same time.

  “I’m not sure this is a good—”

  But she was kissing him again, and Jonathan sighed, giving into her lips, which seemed to have learned quite quickly just what they were supposed to be doing.

  “Calli,” he groaned into her mouth, before reason, if not enough to stop him entirely, spoke up loudly enough to remind him that they were in the middle of a corridor and that anyone — servant or child — could easily walk in and discover them.

  “We can’t do this here,” he said, and she looked up at him, nodding. As he tried to back her up into her room, however, she shook her head.

  “Not in there. It is far too close to the children,” she said. “Your chamber?”

  “I—” He would take her there, talk to her, and they would determine a way forward. Yes, that is what they would do. “Very well.”

  She took his offered hand, and he led her through the hall and then down the stairs, taking each turn surreptitiously to ensure that no one was about. Thankfully, most, if not all, of the sparse staff would have retired by now. He had sent his valet to bed ages ago.

  Having no other adults in the house was a benefit for such times, as it would mean, at least, there were no other lady’s maids or valets who might still be awake at such an hour.

  Finally, he opened his chambers’ door, allowing her in, and she quickly caught his attention with her gasp of surprise.

  “Calli, what’s wrong?” he asked, next to her in a moment.

  “Nothing, it is just that painting… it is incredible.”

  “Ah, yes,”
he said, standing back and appreciating it, realizing that some of the paintings in his homes had been adorning the walls for so long that he often forgot to notice them any longer. A pity, for they did bring much beauty and joy into his world. “I have a similar one in my London study. He enjoyed painting people, but I wish he had done more landscapes. His painting of the sea is magnificent, and there will never be another like him.”

  “Right,” Calli said, the word slightly strangled, and he turned to look at her, noticing for the first time that she still wore her gown, not yet changed into her nightclothes.

  “Are you sure you are all right?”

  “I am,” she said, stepping toward him with a small smile, and he couldn’t help himself from tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I just… I’m not sure how to reconcile these feelings I have for you… with my place in life.”

  “As a governess.”

  “Right. As a governess.”

  “It is difficult when you are the most beautiful governess I have ever seen.”

  She laughed at that, even as he stepped closer.

  “Beautiful, and kind, compassionate, and so intelligent that you have even managed to outwit my most cunning niece and nephew.”

  “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t say such things about me,” she said, biting her lip, and he furrowed his brow.

  “Why not? It’s all true.”

  “It’s not,” she said, shaking her head, and he ran a hand down her face.

  “If I say it is,” he said with all of the determination running through him, “It is.”

  To prove his point, he kissed her then, hard and unrelenting.

  Looking back, that was probably the moment he lost himself to her.

  Chapter 17

  With that kiss, Jonathan proved to Calli that he was the right man — for her first time, for her next time, for her last time. But since now was all that they would ever have, she would take it — without regrets.

  She returned the passion of his kiss with wild abandon, deciding that she would let go of all her reservations and embrace all that Jonathan and this night had to offer.