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

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to speak of this,” Arie murmured. “We can all meet again tomorrow.”

  “No!” Calli exclaimed, shaking her head. “I will not meet with you again tomorrow nor the next day nor the day after that. I am done talking about this. I failed. You failed. This was all a mistake.”

  A lump began to form in her throat as the tears threatened to fall, and she did everything in her power to hold them back.

  “I’m sorry I don’t fit in this family. But now that we all know the truth, we can move on.”

  With that, she whirled around and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom, where she slammed the door, knowing she was acting like a child but not at all caring. She finally gave herself over to the pain and let it all flow out in waves.

  Chapter 24

  Jonathan spent a miserable weekend with his mother.

  It was always rather miserable to spend more than a day or so in her company. She continually pestered him about when he was going to get married, why he had allowed his sister to leave, and how he was going to properly raise the children.

  Of course, this time there were also many questions about why they had arrived without a governess, and just how were they expected to keep the children under control.

  So it was with a great deal of relief to return to London while she chose to remain in Kent. He had sent the children to bed early the evening before with Mrs. Blonsky, who suggested that it might be time to hire a new governess, but he had allowed them to eat breakfast with him the following morning.

  “Uncle?”

  “Yes, Mary?” he said with as much patience as he could muster while he sipped his tea.

  “Is Miss Donahue going to come today?”

  “No, Mary,” he said, shaking his head, steeling his resolve. “Miss Donahue is not here. She lied to us about herself, remember? She has left and she is not coming back.”

  “Because you told her not to,” Matthew said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I heard you.”

  Jonathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, realizing that the children were upset and missed their former governess. As did he, if he must admit it to himself. Which he refused to.

  “Children,” he said, looking them right in the eye, as Calli had always done, “I know you liked Miss Donahue but—”

  “We love her,” Mary cut in.

  He cleared his throat. “I know you loved Miss Donahue. But we will find a new governess. One who will be much better for you. One who has proper governess training. One I’m sure you will like just as much.”

  Mary stared morosely at the untouched plate in front of her.

  “No one can ever replace Miss Donahue.”

  She was right. No one ever would.

  “Could we go to the museum today, Uncle?” Matthew asked, breaking the silence, and Jonathan thought on his day ahead. Did he have time to fit in a visit to the museum?

  “I have a brief meeting with Mr. Shepherd,” he said. “After that, yes, I suppose we can go.”

  “Hooray!” they cheered, and he had to appreciate how such a simple thing could cause such great excitement.

  His man-of-business greeted him with his usual lack of enthusiasm.

  “What news have you for me today?”

  “The first item is of some interest,” Shepherd droned. “You had asked for the canvas to be replaced in its frame.” He pointed to the painting above his desk.

  “Yes. Was it done?”

  “Well,” Shepherd scratched at his head, “the thing is, when they went to replace it, they discovered that the original was still in the frame. The other painting was the replicate.”

  Jonathan stared at him for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

  “So you are telling me that they were leaving with the replicate and not the original?”

  “Correct.” Shepherd nodded. “The strange thing is, however, the painting had most certainly been tampered with. The canvas is still in good condition, but they had to fix some of the frame.”

  Jonathan sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No,” Shepherd agreed. “The only conclusion they could make was that the painting had already been switched out twice.”

  “So the replicate had been inserted but then the original already returned?”

  Shepherd nodded as Jonathan stared at him in confusion.

  “But why would they do such a thing?”

  “That, I do not know, Your Grace,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But rest assured, all is well and there is nothing for you to be concerned about. Would you like to go ahead and press charges?”

  Jonathan held up a hand. He might have banished Calli from his life forever, but he would not see her go before the magistrate.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “But if any of them ever return here, you must send word.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Shepherd said, checking off the item on the list in front of him before moving on. “Of course.”

  * * *

  Calli stared morosely at the marbles, statues, and other pieces of the Parthenon around her.

  She had tried to stay home, citing the fact that she was obviously not fit for such work, anyway. But Arie had told her that she could at least be valuable eyes and ears in his first perusal of the building.

  He had a plan — one that had been on his mind for years now — and he was considering whether it was the right time to put it into place.

  Calli thought it was foolish. It was one thing to steal from rich noblemen, most of whom would never know the difference. It was quite another to steal from the British government.

  But then, Arie insisted that he was only stealing back what belonged to his country, and Calli could see his point. She just didn’t have much desire to be involved in his scheme.

  Or in much of anything, truth be told. She was still far too distressed upon losing Jonathan. And the children. How their mother ever could have given them up, Calli had no idea. She had spent but a couple of weeks with them and she already missed them fiercely.

  “Miss Donahue?”

  Calli rubbed her temples. She was so far into her morose musings that she was hearing things. Hearing the children’s voices. Or perhaps they were simply memories that wouldn’t leave her be. She couldn’t be certain.

  “Miss Donahue, is that you?”

  “Shh, Mary, get back here!”

  Calli whirled around to find the two blond children racing down the marbled hall toward her, ignoring the call of the maid behind them who was trying to keep up as a museum employee frowned at them.

  Calli looked around both warily and hopefully for Jonathan but, not seeing him, crouched down and wrapped one arm around each child.

  “Oh, Mary, Matthew, it is so good to see you,” she said, closing her eyes as she relished the moment before leaning back to look at the two of them. “How are you?”

  “We miss you,” Matthew said, sticking out his bottom lip, and Calli’s heart broke a little bit at the emotion from the boy who always tried so hard to keep it within, to prove how grown up he was.

  “I know,” Calli said, resting back on her heels as she looked at them. “I miss you too.”

  “Can you come back?” Mary asked. “Please?”

  Calli sighed inwardly as she attempted to keep the smile on her face.

  “I’m not sure what your uncle told you,” she said slowly, “but I am no longer able to work as your governess. I thought I could take on that role for you, but I… well, I made a mess of things.”

  “Uncle said that you aren’t who you said you were,” Matthew said, crossing his arms over his chest, “but I told him that you are still the person you always seemed to be, on the inside, where it mattered.”

  Calli attempted to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

  “I know, but I hurt your uncle. I broke his trust. That is quite difficult to r
ecover.”

  “I don’t know why he says that,” Mary burst in, “because he is sad too. He has been sad since you left. He’s even worse than he was before you came. And, we had to go spend time with our grandmother.”

  She rolled her eyes so dramatically that it was difficult for Calli not to laugh.

  “Well, I’m sure your grandmother appreciated the visit,” Calli said. “As for your uncle…”

  “He loves you, Miss Donahue,” Mary insisted. “I know he does.”

  Calli looked down as the emotion threatened to overcome her. Could he actually love her, feel anything but hatred for her, after all they had been through, all that she had done? Could she forgive him for not having any faith in her at all?

  Of course she would. For she loved him.

  And while she knew they would never have a future together, she had to find a way to at least make him see that she would never betray him, that she wasn’t the woman he assumed her to be.

  How she was going to do it, she had no idea. But she had to try.

  “Mary, Matthew,” their maid stood behind them, a pleading expression on her face as she looked around, “we really must get back to your uncle. He will be waiting as we were only supposed to be gone for a few minutes.”

  Jonathan was here? Calli’s heart quickened. She wouldn’t see him now, not with the children present, but the thought of him so close was enough to make her tremble anew.

  “It was ever so lovely to see you,” Calli told them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. “I don’t know when we will have the chance again, but hopefully sometime soon.”

  “Goodbye, Miss Donahue,” they said in unison, and Calli didn’t have the heart to correct them as they turned and walked away.

  * * *

  Jonathan watched the children’s amazement as they gazed upon the various wonders of the world.

  Wonders all contained here in the museum.

  Mary, Matthew, and the maid had all acted somewhat strangely when they returned from their foray to the Greek exhibit, but now they seemed quite caught up with the sarcophaguses and sculptures of the Egyptian room.

  Jonathan watched them with his arms behind his back. He had to admit that this wasn’t such a bad idea. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the museum, nor paid any attention to the exhibits. Seeing it through the children’s eyes brought everything to life in a way he hadn’t entirely considered possible.

  “Well, if it isn’t the duke.”

  Jonathan turned at the deep voice behind his ear, finding Calli’s eyes looking back at him — only they were out of very masculine face.

  “Xander.” He turned his gaze back around to watch the children. “Did you follow me here?”

  Calli’s brother snorted. “What reason would I have to follow you around? I have much better things to do with my time.”

  “Perhaps for the same reason you had your sister pretend to be a governess in my home?”

  Xander inclined his head. “I can see why you might think that. There is something you should know, however. Calli never really wanted to be part of this. It’s a family business, as you may have determined by now. This painting was her first real chance to prove herself. But once she started working for you, getting to know you and the children… well, she tried countless times to cry off.”

  “Yet she still went through with it.”

  Jonathan refused to be moved by this man’s words. He had no idea why Xander was here, defending his sister, but he didn’t have to stay here and listen to it.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I must—”

  “She only went through with it because Arie threatened to reveal all if she didn’t. And she didn’t think you would ever forgive her.” His lips twisted into a wry grimace. “I’m assuming she was right about that.”

  Jonathan took a breath, attempting to rein in his ire. Of course this man was right. Who would have patience for a woman who pretended to be someone she was not, who attempted to steal a painting worth thousands of pounds?

  “She told you what she could, when she could. And in the end? She outsmarted Arie, in order to protect you.”

  Jonathan whipped around, his gaze boring into the other man, even as he knew already, deep within him, what he was about to say.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Xander looked from side to side as though someone might overhear before stepping up to Arie. “I know Calli’s work. It may look identical to the original painting to everyone else, but she’s been painting since she was old enough to hold a brush in her hand, and I know that the painting that was already hanging on the wall was hers. I don’t know how she did it, but she switched out the paintings before we even got there, so the painting that would remain was your original.”

  Jonathan searched Xander’s face, trying to determine if there was any artifice there, but he was either a talented actor… or he was telling the truth.

  A truth that Jonathan already knew. He had known it as soon as Shepherd told him that the painting was the true one, that it had already been switched out at least twice.

  “I don’t understand… at some point she would have been found out.”

  Xander shrugged. “It would have been too late by then. Arie would have been irate — he already was with the result as it is — but he would never hurt her, nor turn her out. He loves her too much.”

  A frown pinched Jonathan’s forehead.

  Xander must have noted the expression on Jonathan’s face. “As a sister.”

  Jonathan stood, silently contemplating all that this man — this thief — had told him. It didn’t make a difference, did it? Could it? But he supposed he was glad to know it.

  “Well,” Xander said, apparently seeing that Jonathan wasn’t going to say anything else. “Now you know. And the other thing? My sister is miserable without you. I’ve told her that you don’t deserve her, but?” He threw his hands in the air. “Who am I to instruct the heart?”

  And at that he began to walk away, whistling as he went.

  Jonathan could only stare after him.

  Chapter 25

  Calli had put brush to paper, unsure what was going to come out the end.

  Now she stared at the scene in front of her, closing her eyes to hold back the tears.

  For it was the land. The land in Kent. The land that she had ridden with Jonathan and the children. Oh, what a day that had been. It was, she realized now with surprise, one of the happiest days of her life. Which was ridiculous. She had a family who loved her, who would do anything for her, and here she was, longing for a man who hated her.

  There was no reason for it, and she was disgusted with herself. She was weak.

  She did, however, have an idea on just how she would tell Jonathan the truth.

  She found another piece of paper, only this time she dipped her pen in ink and set it to the paper.

  On it, she told him all that had happened, all that she had done, all that she was sorry for. She could only hope he would read it, so that, at the very least, he would understand that she had never betrayed him.

  Once the paint dried, she bound it all up in a large package, then sent it with a boy, along with a few coins. She placed her hands on her hips and let out an audible sigh as she watched him skip down the street with it. She had promised him further payment when he returned and told her who he had given it to. At least then she would know that it had arrived.

  She only wished she could know Jonathan’s reaction when it did.

  * * *

  He stared down at the painting before him. It was Kent. It was his land. The land that he had always loved, but now, after being there with the children, he realized how much it meant to him, how good it had felt to get out of London and spend time there, where he could let go of everything that bound and held him here in the city.

  There he was free.

  The work was masterful, and would be worthy of a place on any of his walls, in his gallery or, better yet, som
ewhere that all could enjoy.

  Except that he couldn’t have it anywhere that would taunt him, reminding him of all he’d had, and all he had lost.

  He had known it was her work that moment he had opened the package. A package delivered by a boy, he was told, which was addressed to him and him only.

  It was then that he noticed the scrap of paper that had fallen out, and he picked it up to find steady, strong handwriting upon the note.

  A note that told him everything her brother had divulged.

  She finished by saying that she expected nothing more from him. Only that she needed him to know the truth. That she loved him and would never do anything to hurt him.

  Jonathan lowered his head into his hands, looking down at the desk below him. The desk which now held her painting, a painting which would always be priceless in his mind. For no one could ever so properly replicate the peace that he felt within his heart in one image.

  Suddenly his gaze was caught by something in the detail of the painting. He squinted his eyes to better see. Was he only imaging it?

  No, there it was. On the horizon of the image, there were four shapes — silhouettes, really, of four people, holding hands as they looked out on all before them. Two adults and two children. The four of them.

  Jonathan let out a groan as he threw himself back in his chair and closed his eyes to the painting, not wanting to see it anymore. Only then he not only saw the image, but more. He saw the four of them, in color, joy on their faces as they ran over the fields. Mary. Matthew. Him. Calli.

  He tried to replace her face with another’s. After all that he had come to know about her, he should find another woman. But would he ever find anyone else he could be happy with?

  No. He absolutely could not. Calli was it for him. She had ruined him for all others.

  And, he realized slowly as he came to stand, running a hand through his hair, that was just fine.