The Gentleman Thief

by Deborah Simmons

  “Georgie?”

  “A family nickname,” Georgiana said with a shudder. She had been trying to put a stop to it for years. How could anyone with such a moniker ever be taken seriously?

  “Which you despise,” Ashdowne noted dryly. “Interesting family. I can’t wait to meet your parents.”

  Georgiana smiled. “Although I love them dearly, you will find them much as my siblings. My father, being rather loud, would be certain to offend your aristocratic sensibilities, while my mother, though a very devoted parent, is the one who chooses my gowns.”

  Ashdowne gave her a long, considering look that would have set any other young woman to blushing, at the very least, before lifting his gaze to hers in a manner that made her feel all wobbly inside. “Are you certain you weren’t adopted?”

  Startled, Georgiana laughed aloud. Despite her best intentions, she felt an affection for the marquis that warmed her right down to her toes. Never had she felt so at ease or enjoyed someone’s company as well. Unlike any other man she knew, Ashdowne treated her with respect. He listened to her, and—dare she think it?—he seemed to understand her. Georgiana’s heart tripped as he walked alongside her, and she put some distance between them on the way to Mr. Hawkins’s lodgings.

  As delightful as she found him, it wouldn’t do for her to become too enamored of the marquis’s charms. Instead, she must focus on her quarry and how to run him to ground. Then, Georgiana vowed, Ashdowne wouldn’t be the only person to take her seriously. With renewed determination, she marched forward, turning the conversation away from her family and back to the case, where it belonged.

  They located their destination easily enough in a rather shabby but still genteel part of the city, and when Ashdowne paid a young boy to knock upon the door, no one answered. Georgiana had hoped as much, but she could hardly contain her excitement as they made their way to the rear entrance of the narrow apartment. Heretofore, the exercise of her abilities had been more on the mental plane, but now she found the prospect of investigating in a more physical manner most stimulating. And, she had to admit, the presence of the marquis only added to the thrill.

  “It appears to encompass two floors,” Ashdowne said, looking up, and Georgiana nodded in agreement, trying to focus her attention on the business at hand and not the height of the man next to her. Although she would never have thought Ashdowne inconspicuous, he managed to appear so, staying in the shadows of the small enclosed space that had once housed a garden but was now sadly neglected. She tried to follow his example and hunched against the building.

  When they stepped to the entrance, Georgiana tried the latch only to find it would not turn. Stunned, she stared down at the stubborn portal in dismay. Who in Bath locked their doors? Obviously, Mr. Hawkins, and his behavior simply confirmed her suspicions about his character. No doubt, the purloined necklace was somewhere inside, for why else would the man see fit to bar his home?

  However, his habits presented her with a difficult situation. How on earth were they to conduct their search? Georgiana glanced up at a high window, which did not appear at all accessible and then to Ashdowne, who was looking down at her with a rather smug expression, one eyebrow lifted. Did he think she would give up so easily? She scowled at him, then gasped as he pulled something from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. A nearly soundless click ensued and the door swung inward.

  “Oh!” Georgiana said in breathless admiration. “Ashdowne, I take back every doubt I’ve had about you! You are surely the most clever of assistants!”

  “Have you ever had one before?” he asked, leaning close as she slipped inside the building.

  “One what?” she asked, dizzy as always when she felt him so near. The heat from his form seemed to reach out to her, although he did not touch her.

  “An assistant,” he said as he closed the door behind them.

  “No,” Georgiana said rather breathlessly.

  “Ah. Then I shall disregard the compliment.” He moved in front of her and then turned, his eyes gleaming in the dim interior. “What doubts?”

  But Georgiana only smiled, laughter bubbling up again. With a shake of his head, the marquis began moving around the room like a cat stalking new territory, his blue eyes watchful, his body lithe and somehow always in the shadows. For a moment, Georgiana could only stare in wonder.

  “What are we looking for?” He turned his head to gaze at her, and Georgiana blinked. Had she forgotten their purpose so quickly in his presence?

  “The necklace, of course,” she muttered, a bit flustered.

  “And where might it be?” he asked, amusement heavy in his tone.

  “I do not know!” Georgiana answered sharply. “Just look!”

  Presumably rebuked, Ashdowne turned away and began stalking again, lifting a lid here and peeking into a cupboard there. Georgiana tried to think clearly, but it was always difficult when he was around. What would Hawkins do with his prize? she wondered. Turning this way and that, she realized that in all likelihood, the thief would not leave the jewels downstairs, but hidden as far away from prying eyes as possible. She hurried toward the steps.

  Upstairs Georgiana quickly surveyed the clean but shabby furnishings, and the neat and spartan quality of the room, which hardly had the look of depravity one might expect of a thief’s den. But, then again, a criminal of the caliber to execute this particular robbery was not one of the norm, Georgiana thought.

  And so she set to work, spying under the mattress and in corners and through the man’s linen, distasteful though it might be. She was just finishing with that chore when Ashdowne appeared, that infernal brow of his cocked slightly as if he were speculating upon her motives. “Having fun?” he asked.

  “I am but seeking out all the possibilities!” Georgiana retorted, taking back some of her earlier enthusiasm for her assistant, who did not seem at all interested in the search. He wandered about rather aimlessly as she continued, determined to ignore him and find the gems on her own.

  She had just completed a circuit of the small bedroom when she noticed a stack of blankets tucked into the corner under the eaves. They covered a trunk and, with increasing eagerness, Georgiana tugged it from its place. Pushing aside the covering, she jiggled the clasp, thrilled when she was able to lift the lid.

  “I’ve found something!” she crowed as she peeked into the dark interior. Reaching inside, she came up with several lengths of dark velvet cord. Oddly enough, they looked like the kind to hold back draperies, but Georgiana could easily imagine a far more nefarious use, such as tying up victims!

  “What is it?”

  Georgiana nearly squeaked at the whisper, for she had not realized Ashdowne was at her elbow, bent down on one knee. She had forgotten how silently he moved.

  To cover her confusion, Georgiana gestured to the cord. “Look! Rope!” She pulled another item from the trunk and held it aloft triumphantly. “And a black mask!” It was the type one would wear at a masquerades, but might just as well be used by a criminal to conceal his identity, Georgiana reasoned.

  She leaned over, rooting further, and emerged with a small, tasseled whip. “And a weapon!” Of course, a gun would have been more incriminating, and indeed, this whip was among the most unusual she had ever seen….

  Her thoughts were cut off by Ashdowne, who cleared his throat softly. “Ah, Georgiana. I hardly think those are burglary tools.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. They look very suspicious to me!” she answered, digging deeper.

  “Suspicious, yes,” he said, his tone one of ripe amusement. “But not in the manner you mean.”

  Refusing to be deterred, Georgiana stuck her head into the trunk only to feel something tickling her nose. A feather? She raised her face, but was halted in her effort to back away when she was seized by a rather ferocious sneeze. The force of it jolted her into the lid, and with a muffled shriek, she fell forward, headfirst, into the trunk, her bottom up in the air as her feet frantically sought purchase.

 
Although she was in no real danger of suffocating, the position was rather awkward, her skirts upended and all, and her hands smashing what might be vital evidence. Hurriedly Georgiana struggled to free herself, but she heard an ominous noise that made her panic. What was happening behind her? Where was Ashdowne?

  Her face buried among a decidedly odd collection of musty items, Georgiana wondered if the vicar or his servant had returned and were even now threatening the marquis. Only when she managed to get one slipper back upon the floor did Georgiana realize that the low rumble she heard was the sound of Ashdowne’s laughter.

  Indignant, she threw open the lid that had fallen across her shoulders and pulled herself from the confines of the trunk. Her would-be assistant, instead of rescuing her, was seated on the floor, leaning against the wall, positively roaring with amusement. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was actually clutching his flat stomach as if he were taxed by his own hilarity. Georgiana sincerely hoped that he was in terrible pain.

  “Well!” she said, tossing her curls.

  She seemed to have gained Ashdowne’s attention, for he stopped laughing long enough to look at her, only to burst forth once more, throwing his head back. Suspiciously, Georgiana lifted her hand to her hair and patted her curls gingerly. Her fingers lighted upon the feather, which appeared to be lodged in a particularly thick lock and stuck straight upward. Blowing out a breath of exasperation, Georgiana yanked it forcibly from her head and thrust it back into the trunk.

  “There! Is that better?” she asked Ashdowne in angry accents. His raucous noise dwindled to a chuckle as he stared up at her, and Georgiana noticed his eyes were watering from the force of his mirth. It should have annoyed her more, but somehow the sight of him, so handsome, so relaxed, so very human and approachable, made her heart melt. And she had to admit that she would rather have Ashdowne laughing at her than some other man staring at her bosom.

  His laughter wasn’t cruel, but joyous, and Georgiana couldn’t help smiling at the warmth in his expression, a far cry from the cool man she had initially met. Turning to hide her softening mood, she tucked the blanket over the trunk once more and pushed it under the eaves. She moved back to survey her handiwork, wondering if the container was in the exact same position. After a moment’s study, she began backing away to get a better view, only to trip over Ashdowne’s outstretched legs.

  She flailed wildly for an instant before strong arms caught her, drawing her down onto his lap, where Georgiana landed with a gasp. As she blinked at Ashdowne, he reached up and swiped at his eyes with the back of one gloved hand and then shook his head. “You, Miss Bellewether, are utterly delightful.”

  “Well, I’m happy to provide you with whatever amusement I can,” Georgiana said, wiggling as she tried to right herself.

  But Ashdowne held her firm, and she glanced at his handsome face in surprise. “Ah, but I need laughter,” he said. “I’d forgotten how much…I…need…” His words trailed off as his head dipped, and Georgiana’s lips opened in surprise just in time to meet his own.

  They were warm and gentle and as heady as she remembered. Georgiana had the fleeting notion that she ought not to let him kiss her, especially on the floor of Mr. Hawkins’s chambers, but she could never hold a thought when he was this close, and her mind easily surrendered to her body.

  As if it had too long been subjugated to the whims of her brain, the rest of Georgiana welcomed Ashdowne’s attentions. She lifted her hands to his wide shoulders, her fingers flexing into the hardness there with pleasure. He bent her back over one of his arms, his kiss becoming deeper as his tongue leisurely explored her mouth.

  Oh, it was surely the most glorious sensation! Georgiana could only cling to his shoulders as his lips moved along her cheek to her ear, where he did something amazing with her earlobe. How curious! And then he drifted lower, leaving a trail of moist, hot kisses along her throat that made Georgiana squirm and elicited the oddest sound from her.

  Ashdowne murmured something encouraging against her flushed skin, and then one of his hands, which had been resting at her waist, moved upward to graze the underside of her bosom. Georgiana caught her breath in astonishment. The figure that she had always cursed now seemed to take on a life of its own, tingling and yearning in the most peculiar fashion. As his palm continued upward, Georgiana held her breath. She wanted, she wanted…

  She released a low sigh as his fingers closed over one breast. Oh, the bliss! It coursed through her as he gently stroked her, his gloved fingers gliding along the bare skin above her gown, his thumb brushing the nipple that suddenly grew hard and taut.

  “Oh, Ashdowne!” Georgiana murmured as sensations whirled through her. She wiggled on his lap, searching for some kind of surcease, and felt something stir and stiffen against her bottom. “Oh!” she gasped as it seemed to move beneath her.

  “Yes. Oh. Georgiana…”

  Whatever Ashdowne meant to say was lost in the click of a lock. It sounded so loud in the stillness that they both paused, the cadence of their shallow breathing the only sound that followed, and then they heard the ominous creak of a door below.

  Before Georgiana could even gather her wits, Ashdowne was up and pulling her to the window. He had it open in a thrice and was himself outside in seemingly one fluid movement. Then he lifted her through, too, sliding the window shut behind them in the space of a heartbeat. Stunned, Georgiana turned to find that they were on a roof, and Ashdowne, without the slightest hesitation, led her around chimneys and dormer windows, hopping from one building to another until they reached a tall, spindly-looking oak.

  Although it was not a long way down, Georgiana still balked at the precarious climb, blinking at the ground that seemed so threatening from where she perched. But Ashdowne moved with ease, his hands always ready to grasp her own or take her weight as he helped her down. Finally she slid to her feet, grazing his hard body in way that nearly robbed her of what few wits she had left.

  There they remained, his hands resting upon her waist, and Georgiana braced herself for a scold. Ashdowne had surely ruined some part of his elegant clothing, besides risking his neck and his freedom, should they have been caught in the act of housebreaking. Suddenly her plan seemed more foolish than inspired, and Georgiana felt a deep remorse for having talked him into it.

  She glanced up at him with some trepidation, but to her surprise, the expression on his face could only be described as exultant. He threw back his head and laughed as they stood safely hidden in the shade, leaves gently swaying above their heads. Georgiana wondered if he had gone mad as she watched him. The man did have a marked propensity for hilarity at the most peculiar moments. But, just then, he sobered, his lashes drifting lower, and Georgiana eyed him cautiously as he leaned closer.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, his bright eyes glittering in a way that made it difficult for her to concentrate.

  “For what?” Georgiana asked.

  “For the adventure,” Ashdowne explained. Before she could digest that declaration, he leaned close to whisper in her ear. “I had forgotten, and owe you well for the reminder.”

  “Forgotten what?” Georgiana felt more confused than ever as he flashed her a white smile and bent near again.

  “Life is an adventure,” he declared, and right there, in the shadow of the oak, Ashdowne brushed her lips in a brief, hard kiss. Dazed, Georgiana simply stood there, until he took her hand and pulled her along behind him.

  Adventure? Apparently the man thrived upon it, and as he led her through cramped back gardens to the streets of Bath, Georgiana began to feel as though she were the assistant, being swept along by a force greater than any mystery.

  Afternoon was fading into evening by the time they neared the Bellewether residence, but Georgiana was no closer to solving the case than she had been upon meeting the Bow Street Runner this morning. She felt as though the once-simple solution was slipping further from her fingers with each passing moment. And her assistant, while valuable when it came to house
breaking, was turning out to be part of the problem.

  Ashdowne, she was forced to admit, had the most disturbing effect on her of anyone she had ever met. His very presence acted upon her like a potent drug, dulling her mind while sharpening all of her other senses to an astounding degree. When Georgiana remembered the feel of his hand upon her breast, she was struck with both an overwhelming yearning and horrendous embarrassment.

  Had she really responded to his touch with such abandon? Having wished herself a man more often than not, Georgiana had disdained the feminine trappings that so enamored her sisters. She had always considered herself far above such nonsense, too logical and intelligent and clever to fall victim to the charms of any man. Ashdowne, however, seemed able to reduce her to a mindless, incoherent puddle in a manner of moments.

  It was decidedly lowering.

  Worse yet, this curious phenomenon couldn’t have been more ill-timed, coming as it did just when she needed her wits most, when she was finally on the verge of carving out a career for herself. Georgiana blew out a breath of exasperation. Although she tried to curb her feelings for her assistant, she simply was unable to concentrate. Ashdowne was much too distracting!

  Obviously, drastic measures were called for in this instance. As much as she liked the marquis and appreciated his help in her investigation, she was going to have to sever their association. The decision was a painful one, made more so by the sight of him as she halted to face him in front of the Bellewether residence. He was so tall and handsome, his eyes still glittering with the pleasure he had taken in their little escapade, his mouth curving into an easy smile that bespoke a certain relaxation that she had not seen in him before.

  Georgiana’s stomach dipped as she considered that she might actually be good for the man, but she refused to let herself follow that train of thought any further. Nor would she allow herself to look too long upon the features that had become dear to her so quickly. Instead, she stared doggedly at his neck cloth and prepared to dismiss her one and only assistant.