Tomorrow she would look through the papers and gather more information, Georgiana resolved. And if it led to the identity of the famous burglar, all well and good. For now, however, she felt the effects of a long day, much of it spent in travel, and various bits and pieces of evidence whirled together in her mind, leaving her more confused than ever.
“It is all very curious,” she murmured. “Very curious, indeed.”
Chapter Thirteen
Despite her new surroundings, Georgiana found that Ashdowne was not easily dismissed from her thoughts. Even asleep she could not escape him, for she spent the night dreaming of him—heated, yearning visions, intermixed with odd nightmares in which both he and Savonierre turned into beasts—that left her cranky and out of sorts.
Finally abandoning all hope of rest, Georgiana headed toward the attic, where she spent a fruitful day going over the old stacks of newspapers. Of course, interesting items were always catching her attention, but she tried to limit herself to Savonierre’s movements. They were not hard to find, for he was a favorite with the gossips.
“‘Mr. Savonierre hosted an elegant and well-received rout last night,”’ Georgiana read aloud. She made a note of the date, ignoring the details about the food served and the various luminaries in attendance. Then she picked up the next paper.
“A certain wealthy and renowned Mr. S—was seen squiring a very married Lady B—to the opera last night,” another story reported without mentioning names outright. Indeed, most of the articles pertained not to Savonierre’s alleged influence in government circles, but his penchant for attractive companions. Georgiana frowned in disapproval.
But Savonierre wasn’t the only one whose dalliances made the newspapers. “The younger brother of the Marquis of A—continues to cut a swath through town. Last night alone, he was seen at no less than four entertainments,” read one account. And although she told herself that she didn’t care, Georgiana felt her stomach twist in response.
“Johnathon Everett Saxton, younger brother of the Marquis of Ashdowne, was seen at Lord Graham’s ball, surrounded by ladies. His wit and charm are well-known to make him a favorite,” Georgiana read. Although she tried to ignore the frequent mentions of Ashdowne when he was only a younger brother, his name kept cropping up in the pages, leaping before her eyes as if through no will of her own. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he and Savonierre kept much the same schedules, which was not unusual, considering that they were both members of the most elite circles.
Still, his continued appearance made her oddly apprehensive. If she didn’t know better, she might have imagined him to be The Cat, Georgiana thought, laughing uneasily. Although she pushed her feelings for Ashdowne into some hidden place inside her where she didn’t have to examine them too closely, she couldn’t help making note of his movements.
Meanwhile, she made a chart of Savonierre’s locations, so that she could more easily track his presence, along with a list of where and when The Cat had struck. Interestingly enough, the thief had never stolen anything from Savonierre, a small piece of information that appeared to confirm Georgiana’s suspicions.
Originally she had thought only to study those newspapers from the years when The Cat’s infamy was at its zenith, but once begun, Georgiana’s task held her attention into a second and even a third day of scrutiny. In the more recent editions, she looked for any mention of a crime outside the city that resembled The Cat’s methods, but found nothing at all. It was as if the master thief had disappeared from the face of the earth.
Unfortunately, her concentration was broken every so often by a bored Bertrand demanding that they return to Bath, but Georgiana refused to heed him. “Go away!” she called, diving back into her newspapers. As much as she hated to admit it, she found the vast lines of printed words comforting, for there were few nuances to be found among the bald statements. Facts were her forte, and far easier to deal with than people.
However, Bertrand must have finally enlisted her great-uncle against her, for the older gentleman bestirred himself to bring her a luncheon tray on the third day of her seclusion. Pushing aside a great heap of papers, he sat himself down to face her, and Georgiana was forced to put aside her work.
“Are you finding what you sought?” Silas asked, taking off his spectacles to clean the lenses with the end of his coat.
“Yes,” Georgiana answered. “I have lists and charts, and it looks, from a cursory examination at least, as if my suspicions were correct. I can’t tell you what a help it has been to be able to sort through your collection,” she added, genuinely grateful.
“I’m glad they have been of use to someone,” he said with a small smile as he returned his glasses to his face. The eyes behind them were fraught with intelligence as he examined her, and Georgiana felt oddly uncomfortable under his gaze, like an errant student who had disappointed his teacher.
Finally, as if he had seen all that he must, Silas leaned back against the wooden boards behind him and surveyed his cluttered attic. “Bertrand is growing impatient,” he said.
“I know. As if I could not know when he comes up here banging on the door every other hour!” Georgiana complained. “Although I intended only to look at the older papers, I’ve been searching for some reference to the thief’s whereabouts in recent months, which is taking longer, naturally,” she explained.
“Is it?” her uncle asked, and Georgiana found herself flushing. “If you are researching your case, you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, my dear. But if you are simply burying yourself in my attic, hiding away from other things that are not so easily examined—”
“What tales has Bertrand been telling you?” Georgiana demanded, blushing. If her continued presence here was more palatable than a return to Bath and all the attendant folly there, then who could blame her for lingering? Somehow the urgency that had once pressed her to finish the case no longer drove her as forcefully, and her once-clear purpose was all mixed up with thoughts of the man who had begun to overshadow the investigation itself.
“He mentioned a certain marquis,” Silas said gently.
“My assistant!” Georgiana protested. “Ashdowne is my assistant, nothing more.” Glancing away from her uncle’s penetrating look, she picked up a paper and stared at it unseeing. Leave it to Silas to suddenly emerge from his scholar’s daze to query her when she least expected—or desired—such concern!
“Very well, then. But would you take a bit of advice from an old man?”
“Of course,” Georgiana said, feeling like a churl after all her great-uncle had done for her.
“Good,” he said with a gentle smile. “Don’t make the same mistake that I did and become so immersed in your studies and projects that you forget about people.”
When Georgiana looked at him blankly, he laughed softly. “I’ve had a good life, and I’ve enjoyed it, but your grandfather made the better choice. He had Lucinda and your mother and the grandchildren…” Silas trailed off with a wistful expression that surprised Georgiana.
“But they’re all so silly!” she protested.
Silas laughed again. “Ah, but family is family, no matter how silly, and a joy to an old man. If you bury your nose in books or newspapers or cases, you miss out on a lot of life,” he cautioned. “You’re a beautiful girl, Georgiana, and I wouldn’t want you to end up like me, all alone.” With that, he rose to his feet and headed toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your research, for now,” he said.
Georgiana stared after him, dumbfounded. She had certainly never thought Silas envious of her grandfather, especially since her grandfather had always complained about the children underfoot when they visited. She shook her head, rustling the paper in her lap. People were so difficult to understand, it was no wonder that she preferred hard facts.
That errant thought led, rather circuitously to Ashdowne, and Georgiana felt a pang of guilt for not being totally honest with her uncle. Ashdowne was more than just her assistant, but what? That was the que
stion she had been trying to avoid, yet as if her very thoughts conjured his name, Georgiana focused on the page in front of her, where the marquis himself was mentioned.
“A certain Lady C—, well-known for her expertise in the card room, won a shocking amount of money from the marchioness of Ashdowne at Lady Somerset’s ball last evening. Her brother-in-law is presumed to stand good her vowels, while the young woman has left town the wiser.”
“Uncle! Listen to this!” she called, reading the report aloud to him as he stood in the doorway.
“Hmm. It appears that your assistant is well acquainted with Lady Culpepper’s rather dubious reputation.”
“Odd. He never said a thing about it,” Georgiana mused. He had never mentioned his sister-in-law, either, she thought with a frown. Would Ashdowne find it galling to pay a debt he had not incurred, especially when the lady in question was rumored to cheat at cards? Yet such losses were not uncommon, and perhaps the marquis would not notice even a “shocking” sum.
Georgiana fought against an oddly unsettled feeling, as if there was much more to be resolved between Ashdowne and herself than she had ever considered, and she knew a sudden urge to hear his comments on the matter. Instead of solving the case to her satisfaction, her days of study left her with a sense of unfinished business. But it was clear to her that staying here amid the old papers would see her no closer to the completion of her investigation. And it was time to quit hiding from herself.
“Wait for me, Uncle! I’m coming,” she called over her shoulder as she gathered up her lists and charts. She would need every bit of evidence to convince Mr. Jeffries that Savonierre was not only the thief, but The Cat himself. And she clung to her theory with a ferocity driven by desperation. It had to be Savonierre, Georgiana thought.
Anyone but Ashdowne.
Mindful of her uncle’s warning, Georgiana greeted her family with new enthusiasm, even though her sisters’ giggles grated upon her and she could hardly bear her father’s good-natured teasing. According to him, a certain marquis had been quite put out at her sudden departure from Bath, having called upon her more than once while she was gone. At this news, Georgiana was torn between elation and disbelief, for if Ashdowne was busy with his beautiful sister-in-law, why would he notice she was missing?
But he had noted her absence, for it wasn’t long after her return that he arrived to invite her to walk with him. Although outwardly as elegant and composed as always, Ashdowne was not himself, for Georgiana sensed something simmering beneath the surface of his polite expression, a tension that she had never seen in him before. Had he discovered some important clue while she was away? Or was this a final goodbye before he returned home with his sister-in-law?
Georgiana eyed him with some anxiety as they engaged in mindless conversation with her family, anticipation and dread warring within her. When at last they managed to escape her sisters, with her father’s rather obvious assistance, Georgiana wasn’t certain she wanted to be alone with her erstwhile assistant.
For a long while they walked in silence, making Georgiana wonder why he had called upon her. She was trying to gather her thoughts to say something—anything—when he finally spoke. “You might have told me you were leaving Bath,” he said, his harsh tone making the words sound like an accusation, and Georgiana blinked in surprise.
“I wanted to do some research at my great-uncle’s house,” she explained.
“The one who cannot be trusted to squire you about London?” Ashdowne questioned sharply.
“Well, yes, but we didn’t even leave the house. I spent the whole time going over old newspapers.”
“Old newspapers?” Ashdowne’s voice revealed his skepticism, and Georgiana was forced to stop and face him.
“Yes, old newspapers. What on earth has gotten into you?”
Far from showing chagrin at his behavior, Ashdowne’s dark brows lowered and his gorgeous mouth thinned. “I suppose I assumed I might be notified of your movements. As I recall, we were to meet in the Pump Room three days ago, but you never appeared. Did you consider that I might be worried about you?”
Georgiana colored, remembering her cowardice upon seeing him with his lovely relative. “Well, I…I didn’t really think you would notice,” she mumbled.
His dark brow shot up. “You didn’t think I would notice.” He spoke the words in a deathly calm manner, but Georgiana had the growing suspicion that he was angry, perhaps even furious. And she had once wondered what would incite him? Apparently, her failure to appear had loosed a temper she was unaware he possessed.
“I beg your pardon. I should have told you I was leaving, but the idea came upon me quite suddenly, you see,” she said, which was true. “I had the most amazing revelation about the case!”
Although she would not have thought it possible, his expression grew even more black. “The case!”
“Why, yes. It’s most thrilling, and I suppose I should have notified you at once, since you are my assistant—”
“Your assistant,” he echoed, his eyes glittering with a virulence Georgiana could not comprehend.
“Why, yes,” she said, unprepared for the raw emotion that seemed to emanate from him. Accustomed to dealing with facts and logic, she had only just begun to recognize her own feelings and was at a loss to understand Ashdowne’s sudden ferocity.
“Well, maybe I want to be more than your damned assistant. Maybe I’d like to be a man, for a change. Maybe…” Ashdowne turned away and threw up his hands. “Oh, hell. I don’t even know what I want. Since meeting you, I can’t think clearly!”
Georgiana blinked at his vehemence, though she shared the sentiment. But what did he mean about being a man? Wasn’t he going to aid her any longer? Taking him literally, she voiced her concern in tremulous accents. “Don’t you want to be my assistant?”
Ashdowne stared at her as if she had grown two heads, and then, as was his wont, he burst out laughing. “Lud, Georgiana, I don’t know whether to strangle you or drag you off to bed, but I’ve missed you.”
Georgiana’s heart swelled at his words, along with other parts of her body that took special note of his threat to drag her off to his bed? He stepped close, and Georgiana eyed him warily, mindful that they stood in full view of passersby. “Oh, Ashdowne, you shouldn’t say such things,” she murmured.
“Why not?” he asked, as he took her trembling fingers and placed them on his arm, leading her forward once more.
Because they make me want things I can’t have, Georgiana thought ruefully. “Because I can’t think when you do,” she said instead.
“And I can?” Ashdowne asked, lifting one dark brow.
“Of course, you can. I haven’t done or said anything to disturb you,” Georgiana protested in bewilderment.
“You don’t have to,” he muttered. “All you have to do is stand there and breathe.”
“Well, it seems we are in a quandary,” Georgiana said. Although oddly affected by his admission, she had no idea what he intended to accomplish with it. Like herself, he did not seem entirely at ease with her influence upon him.
“I see only one solution,” Ashdowne said, frowning as if considering something distasteful. “One way to assure that, in the future, you do not hare off to your uncle’s without telling me.”
“Now just a moment,” Georgiana protested. “I did not hare off. I was studying the case.” Disliking the scowl he wore and the words he used, she suddenly realized that he had not inquired at all about the investigation, and she lifted her chin. “Just in case you’re wondering, I made quite a breakthrough.”
“Really?” Ashdowne asked dryly, his tone reflecting frustration rather than enthusiasm.
“Yes, really. Of course, if you have no interest in the case any longer—” Georgiana began, only to be cut off by her companion, who halted his steps.
“Very well. Go ahead and impart this amazing discovery of yours before you burst,” he said.
With a smile, Georgiana leaned close to impart t
he information she had shared with no one. “I believe our thief is none other than The Cat!” she whispered, only to draw back in surprise.
Ashdowne, who so rarely revealed himself, gave her a startled look that bordered on horror.
“You have heard of The Cat?” Georgiana asked, puzzled.
“Of course, I’ve heard of The Cat,” Ashdowne said harshly. “But—”
“Then you must realize that his methods are exactly the same as those used in Lady Culpepper’s robbery,” Georgiana said.
“I hardly think—”
Georgiana, thrilled to be expounding her discoveries, didn’t let him finish. “He was never caught, you know, and I am convinced that he was but biding his time in the country, waiting to strike in a new location. And that location is Bath!” she concluded with a flourish. Breathlessly she waited for Ashdowne to wax eloquent over her cleverness, or at least evince his approval.
Contrary to Georgiana’s expectations, Ashdowne did not appear impressed. In fact, the elegant marquis scrubbed at his face with one gloved hand as if trying to awaken from a nightmare.
“Georgiana, you really don’t imagine Mr. Hawkins to be The Cat?” he asked her, his exasperation apparent.
“Oh, no!” she said. “I’ve found an even better suspect in Mr. Savonierre!” Georgiana explained triumphantly.
Unfortunately, Ashdowne didn’t share her enthusiasm. He stared at her, all expression leaving his face as it went rigid. “No.” He shook his head. “No, Georgiana. This has gone far enough.”
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked, disappointed that he was not excited about her deductions. After all, it was not as though Mr. Jeffries had recognized the similarities between this case and those of The Cat. She alone had made the connection, and she wouldn’t mind receiving a pat on the back for her trouble. Instead, Ashdowne was glaring at her.
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