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

by St. Clair, Ellie

  Mrs. Blonsky seemed slightly perturbed to find her in the study, which was reasonable.

  “I was leaving a note for His Grace,” Calli explained, motioning to the desk in front of her where there was, fortunately, a neat pile of paper in the middle of the desk. “I might… I might not be here when he returns.”

  “I see,” Mrs. Blonsky said, her smile as present as always, although if Calli wasn’t mistaken, she could sense that Mrs. Blonsky might know a bit more than she was letting on. “Very well. You have visitors. I have placed them in the back parlor.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Blonsky,” Calli said, her heart fluttering as she eyed the rolled piece of canvas in the corner. She could only hope that this would work. Arie and Xander were not easy to fool.

  And they would be here now.

  Mrs. Blonsky left her to find her own way, which Calli was glad for. She stepped into the parlor to find her two brothers leaning against pieces of furniture.

  “You’re early,” she said by way of greeting, and Arie grinned while Xander still looked somewhat worried.

  “Does it matter?” Arie said airily. “We were watching the house. Your duke is gone.”

  “Yes, he is,” Calli said, holding herself up high.

  “Where is your bag?”

  “Packed, in my room.”

  “Best go get it. We’ll want to leave quickly,” Arie said. “And your painting?”

  “In the study. Next to the original,” she said, her heart beating rapidly at the thought.

  “Why don’t you lead the way?” Arie said. “Then you can go fetch your things.”

  “There are a fair number of staff still in the house,” Calli said, rubbing her forehead, trying to think of any other way to delay them. “I don’t understand why you didn’t wait until night, as we agreed upon.”

  When it would also be darker and harder to see.

  “Xander has been watching the house and said that with the duke gone, most of the servants have gone out or are in their living quarters,” Arie said. “I figured, why not get a head start?”

  “Arie, please, just try to understand where I am coming from in no longer wanting this to happen,” she said, desperate to try again. “Can we just leave it?”

  He stared at her, unblinking, and Calli wondered for a moment whether her statue of a brother even had a heart.

  “I told you the terms, Calli. So — do you want to do this efficiently in a way that he will never know, or would you like him to know all of your betrayal? Your choice.”

  “Fine,” Calli said, trying to release her fists as her stomach turned. “But this must be quick. I shall let you into the study, and then shut the door behind you. As long as no one sees you go in, no one should be the wiser. Just pray a maid doesn’t come in to dust while you’re there.”

  Xander gave her a jaunty salute which even Arie rolled his eyes at, before Calli led them slowly down the hall, as though they were breaking into the house and not invited to be here.

  Although she didn’t think Jonathan would ever invite her brothers into his home, which meant that they were trespassing as much as anyone could ever expect.

  She let them into the study, pointed out the painting, and was just about to leave when Xander placed a hand on her arm.

  “Calli,” he said in a low voice, likely so Arie, across the room, wouldn’t hear, “are you all right?”

  “Fine,” she said, forcing a smile that she knew would be strained and that Xander would see right through. But now wasn’t the time to discuss her feelings. “I’ll be back.”

  She slipped out of the room and down the hall, up the stairs and into her small room. She took one final look around the bedroom and the nursery, her heart breaking with the sadness of never seeing the children nor the house again. She couldn’t even think of Jonathan.

  She crossed to the schoolroom area of the nursery, taking a slip of paper and a piece of charcoal before dashing off a quick note to Matthew and Mary. Then she crossed the room, quickly unpacked her paint supplies from her bag, and left them out for them. She hoped they would be able to remember her with some fondness.

  Calli picked up her bag and hurried down the stairs. She was just about to open the study door when a commotion arose from the front of the house.

  “Miss Donahue? Miss Donahue, where are you?”

  “Matthew? Mary?” She dropped her bag, her heart hammering in her chest as her joy in seeing them, even for this one last time, fought with her distress as to why they could be here and how she could get her brothers out of the house without anyone else the wiser.

  She had to get everyone away from the study.

  Calli hurried down the hall to the front foyer, coming to a stop when the children ran toward her, their arms outstretched.

  “Miss Donahue! We came back for you!”

  She didn’t say anything in response — she couldn’t, not when her throat was clogged with unshed tears. Finally she looked up from the children, who had their arms wrapped around her, to Jonathan, who stood there, unmoving, his cloak swirled around him imposingly as he stared down at them.

  “Your Grace?” she said softly.

  He cleared his throat.

  “The children are correct. We have returned for you. Perhaps I was too… premature in my conclusions.”

  “Oh, Jon—Your Grace, I… I don’t know what to say.”

  Her stomach knotted as she thought about what was happening behind her in the house.

  Was there a way that she could, potentially, get her brothers out and still go with Jonathan? Could she find a way forward with the man she loved?

  For she did. She loved him, despite his obstinance and his distrust and, at times, hardness of heart. She couldn’t help herself.

  “Just say yes to coming with us, and we can figure out the rest from there.”

  She stood, nodding, beginning to back out of the foyer.

  “I will. Thank you. I just must… go and fetch my things.”

  She managed a smile before scurrying down the hall, the moment she was around the corner breaking into a run.

  Fortunately, there weren’t any servants about, and when Calli skidded to a halt in front of the study door, it was just opening.

  She wrenched it open, pushing back Xander and Arie, who swore as they stepped back.

  She noted the canvas in their hands, looking back and forth from the painting on the wall to the two of them.

  “Is it done?” she hissed, and they nodded, although Xander was looking at her somewhat strangely. She ignored him, focused on Arie, for he was always the one to worry about.

  “We have a problem,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Jonathan is home.”

  She didn’t even care that she had said his given name. Let them think what they wanted. She just needed them gone.

  “They’ve asked me to go with them to Kent, and I’m going to go,” she said resolutely. “I told them I was going to get my bag. Hide in here until you don’t hear anything anymore. I’ll try to ensure we leave within fifteen minutes. Then you’ll have to sneak out on your own — but I’m sure you’re both more than adept at doing so.”

  Xander smirked while Arie looked at her thoughtfully.

  “You should come home with us.”

  “I’ve made up my mind, Arie,” she said, her voice low. “I will come visit upon our return. We shan’t be long.”

  She knew she was likely making the wrong decision. To extend her time with Jonathan was only going to prolong her heartbreak, for there was no way there would ever be room for her in his life as anything more than what she currently was.

  But she would take what she could.

  She took a deep breath, smoothed her skirts, and opened the door.

  Only to come face to face with Jonathan.

  Chapter 23

  When the study door opened to reveal Calli standing there, at first Jonathan’s heart leapt, as it always did when he saw her.

  But his gut told him something
was wrong before his mind caught up.

  First, there was her bag sitting outside his study door.

  Then, there were her brothers standing behind her.

  And in their hands, a rolled-up canvas.

  Finally, what should have told him everything, Calli’s face — stricken, panicked.

  “Calli,” he said, hearing the ice dripping off her name as, after his perusal of the room, his gaze returned to her. “Have I interrupted something?”

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, holding up her hands. “Xander and Arie were… helping me when I thought that you no longer wanted my… services.”

  “Helping you,” he repeated incredulously. “Because your little bag and one painting were far too heavy for you?”

  She looked at her brothers and then back at him, but before she could say anything, her brother answered for her.

  “We were just going, Hargreave,” Arie said. “We wanted to check on Calli, that’s all. Heard you had been a bit hard on her.”

  “Hard on her? For lying to me?” Jonathan asked, the thick metal chain tightening within him like a vise. “I don’t even know your true name. It certainly isn’t Donahue, and Calli tells me it isn’t the same as hers.”

  As her brother’s eyes darkened and narrowed, Jonathan looked to Calli, whose eyes widened — in a bit of fear, he realized.

  “I’m not sure what my sister told you,” Arie bit out, “but I can assure you that there is always one thing that is of my first interest, and that is looking after my siblings. And right now, I don’t feel comfortable with my sister going anywhere with you.”

  “Arie,” Calli said, turning around and standing up tall before her brother, “this is my decision.”

  “And mine,” Jonathan cut in. “And before we go any further, I’d like to know just what exactly you are planning to do with that canvas.”

  He looked to the wall where his painting hung, wondering if he was seeing things, or if it was hanging slightly ajar.

  “I told you, Jonathan, it’s not what you think,” Calli repeated, and he looked to her.

  “Just what do you suppose I am thinking? That, perhaps, you recreated a painting in order to switch it with mine, to steal a priceless work? Is that, maybe, what I am thinking?”

  “Jonathan,” she said desperately, “can I speak to you alone? My brothers were just leaving.”

  “Not with that painting, they are not,” he said, pointing to the floor, ignoring Calli — and all of the feelings within him regarding her — for the moment. “Put it down. Now.”

  “It’s nothing,” Arie said easily, “just Calli’s little re-creation. You told me yourself that you saw it.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you say,” Jonathan seethed. “Leave the painting and get. Out. Now.”

  “Not without our sister.”

  “Jonathan—” Calli said, placing a hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

  “Not a problem. Take her. She is no longer welcome in my home.”

  “Jonathan, you don’t understand, please let me explain—”

  He turned on her now, his voice rising as he spoke until it was nearly a roar.

  “I have heard more than enough of your explanations. It is what I see in front of me that tells me more than anything else ever could. You will get out of my house this instant before I call the constable on the lot of you. Do you understand?”

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice so at odds with his.

  But Jonathan’d had enough. He couldn’t look at her anymore.

  “Get out,” he said, opening the door. “Go through the servants’ entrance so that the children don’t see you. Thurston will see you out.” He nodded to his waiting butler, who always seemed to know exactly when he was needed. “And never come back.”

  * * *

  Calli refused to look at either of her brothers on the ride home.

  Home. The place where she had spent most of her life. A place that should be comfortable. So why was she dreading returning to it?

  She could feel the ice seeping off Arie from across the carriage. She was well aware that he was displeased, although at least he was holding off his lecture until they arrived.

  When he would likely deliver it in front of the entire family.

  “Calli?”

  She lifted her head as Xander placed a hand on her knee.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her again, softly.

  “No,” she said, and while no tears had fallen, kept inside so that Arie wouldn’t ridicule her any more than he already had, within her, she was weeping a waterfall. “I am not all right. And nor will I be.”

  Arie snorted but said nothing as he stared out the window with arms crossed, while Xander looked at her with concern, scratching his head.

  “Maybe Diana will know what to do.”

  “None of you can help me,” Calli said bitterly. “You’ve done more than enough.”

  They sat in silence for the remainder of the ride, as London turned from the tall imposing brick townhouses of Mayfair to the narrow streets of falling down buildings in St. Giles. Eventually they pulled up in front of the house.

  “We will convene in an hour,” Arie said, his words clipped as he stepped down from the carriage. “Have yourself ready by then.”

  Xander held out a hand to help her down, and Calli slowly followed the two of them into the house, her bag swinging against her skirts as she dragged her feet going up the walk.

  She didn’t feel like facing her family. She didn’t feel like discussing everything that had happened. And she most certainly was going to refuse to say anything about Jonathan.

  He was unyielding, she realized that. She had known early on that he was not a man who would easily forgive, if he ever would at all.

  She just hadn’t realized how irate he would be, to the point that he wouldn’t even let her explain. He would never consider anything further with her, she knew that — but at least he would know the truth of what she had done and that, in the end, she could never truly betray him.

  As she had her family.

  She could never let them know.

  Despite her reluctance, an hour later she was seated among her four siblings, as they all sat staring at her with expressions that varied from pity to contempt.

  She took the space in the corner of the sofa, hoping that it would swallow her up and she could remain hidden from the rest of them.

  Arie stood at the front of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at each of them in turn until his gaze settled on Calli, where it remained.

  “As you all know,” he began, slowly pacing a few steps back and forth each way as he spoke, “Calli recently undertook her own little… escapade.”

  He made it sound as though everything that had happened to her was a child’s game.

  “The initial plan was simple. She was to attend a party held at the duke’s townhouse, create a sketch of a painting, noting any necessary details, and then return home to complete the painting. Xander and I were then going to break in and switch the two. No one would ever be the wiser, and we would be able to sell it to a buyer that was already arranged.”

  Calli couldn’t look at him anymore, as she tucked her knees up underneath her chin, hugging her legs against herself.

  “However, Calli allowed herself to be caught in the study. By children,” he said so contemptuously that Calli couldn’t help but lift her gaze and glare at him. She had always loved Arie. He was a harsh man, as inflexible as Jonathan, but he loved them in his own way. At the moment, however, she hated him.

  “She was mistaken for the governess, a role she accepted, and told us all that she intended to take the time to ensure that her painting was perfect. Well, she was right. It was.”

  His lips began to stretch into a slow, menacing smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But then, our Calli did the unthinkable. She fell in love.”

  Calli pushed herself to her feet then, her hands coming to
her hips indignantly, “I did not.”

  “You didn’t?” He lifted a brow. “Or you just didn’t think I was aware?”

  “How I feel or what I did are of no consequence. None at all. I did what you asked.”

  “You did, but you fought me every step of the way,” Arie said, leaning back against the fireplace behind him as though her words and her ire did not affect him in the least. “You thought you had gotten away with it, but you didn’t, did you? Not only did you apparently share some of your true self with this duke, but for whatever reason, he seemed to think enough of you to return to London for you, inhibiting all of our plans and ensuring that not only do we not have the painting that we all worked so hard for, but he also has an idea of who we are. He may hate you now, but it never should have gotten to this point.”

  “You’re right,” Calli said, angrier now than she had been when it had been Jonathan who was hurling insults upon her. For at least Jonathan had good reason to be upset with her. “I should have stopped this long ago. We had no reason to steal Jonathan’s painting. He did nothing to us, or to your people, Arie.”

  “Although you did apparently locate one of the priceless artifacts that belonged to my people, and where is that, hmm?”

  Calli narrowed her eyes at him.

  “You want it so much? Do you? Very well.”

  She stomped across the room, picking up her bag, taking the stolen figurine and tossing it to him. He gasped before catching it.

  “Take it,” she said, waving in front of her, “but do not sell it. Give it back to whomever it belongs to. I will not make money off a stolen item.”

  “It was originally stolen from Greece anyway.”

  “I understand, Arie,” she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, “but it is not my place to decide whether my wrong is any worse than the original thievery. I’m done with this. All of this. I was only trying to make you happy, to pay you back. You never made me feel adequate enough to belong here.”

  Even Arie looked slightly stunned at her outburst, as silence settled over the rest of the room. Calli swallowed hard. She hadn’t meant to say such things, but it had all come pouring out before she could stop herself.