The Gentleman Thief

by Deborah Simmons

  “What has that to do with Savonierre?” Georgiana asked.

  Ashdowne gave her one of his jaded looks. “Rumor has it that Savonierre gifted her the necklace as a gesture of his…affection.”

  “I see,” Georgiana said, ignoring the proprieties to consider the ramifications. “But why would he care after the fact—when the jewelry was no longer his?”

  Ashdown shrugged slightly. “He’s a very powerful man and doesn’t like to be crossed—even indirectly, I suppose. The irony of the whole thing is that the necklace turned out to be paste.”

  “Paste?”

  “Yes. I suspect that Lady Godbey was not so devoted to him as he would have liked. She either sold the original for cash or gave it to a younger, more impoverished fellow, an artist, with whom her name had been linked.”

  Georgiana shivered, shocked that anyone would trifle so with Savonierre, for she could well imagine his displeasure. Indeed, it was hard to picture him being duped by anyone, even a paramour. “Perhaps he gave her a fake and didn’t want the duplicity discovered,” she mused.

  Ashdowne’s mouth curved into an indulgent smile. “Perhaps, but I suspect that Lady Godbey knows her jewels better than the average silversmith,” he said dryly.

  “Oh,” Georgiana said, discarding that theory. “So he gives her a diamond necklace in good faith, unaware that she soon trades it in for a paste copy, and when The Cat strikes, taking that particular piece of jewelry, he’s angry. Perhaps he even sees it as a personal insult and vows to discover the identity of the thief and see him punished.”

  Georgiana paused, her pulse thrumming, as everything started to come together in her mind. “But you retired, thwarting him rather effectively, and he’s not a man to accept defeat. So he has to find a way to draw you out, for one last appearance,” she said, her voice rising with her excitement. “He knows that you don’t need the money, and so he has to concoct something special to lure you back into the game. What better way than through Anne? He’s connected to Lady Culpepper, so it would be easy for him to gain her cooperation.”

  Ashdowne eyed her skeptically. “I don’t know, Georgiana. It sounds like a rather elaborate, convoluted way to gain revenge when he could simply call me out.”

  “Yes, but Savonierre is complex and convoluted,” Georgiana argued. “I have the feeling that he can’t do anything straightforward, but must be hatching schemes, if only to entertain himself.”

  Ashdowne still looked dubious, but he deferred to her, and Georgiana could have kissed him for it. The thought of a lifetime spent kissing this man made her giddy, and she had to force her attention back to the case.

  “Very well. Say you’re right. Now what?” he asked.

  Trying not to focus on his mouth, Georgiana dropped her gaze to his broad chest and swallowed hard as she considered the implications of her theory. “Of course, I can’t tell you exactly what he’ll do next, but I’m fairly sure of one thing.”

  “What?” Ashdowne said.

  “He won’t give up,” Georgiana said, shuddering at the thought. “Ever.”

  After she returned home, Georgiana was plagued with questions and more congratulations from her family, and though she loved them, she couldn’t help wishing she could run off with Ashdowne immediately. Unfortunately, her mother was already planning the wedding, an event which, in itself, held little interest for Georgiana.

  And so when the invitation arrived, Georgiana counted it a welcome interruption—until she realized just who had sent it. Looking down at the elaborately penned note, she felt only foreboding, for why would Lady Culpepper throw an impromptu evening to celebrate her engagement?

  All too well, Georgiana recognized Savonierre’s fine hand in this, but what did he have planned? Would he try to prove that she had not been with Ashdowne during the theft? He couldn’t, Georgiana told herself. But what if he claimed she and Ashdowne had worked together to steal the necklace? Shuddering in outrage, Georgiana nevertheless sent the young messenger away with her acceptance, for she could hardly refuse a party in her own honor. And neither could Ashdowne.

  Savonierre had them neatly trapped. Ashdowne could not return the necklace until nightfall, and now whatever opportunity he might have had would be foiled by a houseful of guests and his watchful nemesis. Suppose he was caught in the act? Georgiana wanted desperately to talk to him, but there was no time, for her parents were already urging her to dress for the evening.

  Her mind ran in circles while she hurried through her toilette, and it continued doing so during the carriage ride amid the incessant chatter of her sisters. But all her rumination led her to no simple solutions, and she entered Lady Culpepper’s lavish home with a cold knot of dread in her stomach.

  Lady Culpepper’s warm welcome startled her, as did the greetings of the other guests—a far different experience than her last visit when she had entered quietly with Savonierre, a surly Bertrand in tow. Although elevated from country nobody to future marchioness, Georgiana found most of the attention annoying.

  The only person she was interested in seeing was Ashdowne, and he was late, forcing her to endure several jests about his possible defection. Her mother, who had always viewed the marquis’s company warily, wore a worried frown until Georgiana patted her hand in comfort.

  “He will be here,” she said with an encouraging smile. It never crossed her mind that Ashdowne would leave her in the lurch, and the realization struck her quite forcefully that he would never abandon her.

  Although Ashdowne had broken the law in the past, he had a sense of honor and a character that not many of the august persons gathered around her could claim. Georgiana lifted her chin, feeling a bit like Anne when she defended her tradesman. No matter what had gone before, she believed in Ashdowne implicitly, and she was proud of him, for all the wits and skill that had made him the man he was today.

  Savonierre was suggesting dryly that they send someone to fetch her intended when at last Ashdowne arrived, looking as elegant and unconcerned as ever. He claimed his coach had thrown a wheel, forcing him to walk, and Georgiana knew that the vehicle would be found not far away, with Finn making repairs—whether necessary or not.

  Where had he really been? she wondered, but she did not have a chance to ask him, for well-wishers crowded around them both, followed by endless toasts, and then Lady Culpepper imperiously announced supper, and Georgiana was forced to make polite conversation with a garrulous retired army captain while Ashdowne sat across from her.

  It was only after the group had once again adjourned to the reception rooms that Savonierre made his move. Idly twirling a glass of champagne, he approached them with a cool expression that Georgiana knew masked a malevolent intent. She was even more alarmed when she saw Mr. Jeffries appear not far behind, decidedly uncomfortable. Surely the Bow Street Runner was not here to make an arrest?

  “So, Miss Bellewether, I assume that your engagement means the end of your investigation?” Savonierre asked, and Georgiana, less accustomed to hiding her emotions than Ashdowne, could barely form an answer.

  “Of course not,” she finally squeaked in a pathetic imitation of her usual manner.

  “Really?” Savonierre asked, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. “Somehow, I find that difficult to believe,” he murmured. “How about you, Jeffries?”

  “I wouldn’t know, sir,” the Bow Street Runner said.

  “Well, I, for one, agree with you,” Ashdowne said, startling Georgiana so that she had to swallow a gurgle of surprise. “After all, the lady’s going to be married, so she won’t have time for such nonsense.”

  Georgiana bristled, even though she suspected Ashdowne had a reason for his words. Unfortunately, several older gentlemen nearby heard his words and wholeheartedly agreed with him concerning a woman’s place. Georgiana listened, quietly fuming until, just when she was going to burst with outrage, he lifted a dark brow.

  “Oh, it’s not the investigating in itself that I’m against, just this little matter,�
� Ashdowne said. “I mean, really, a theft such as this in Bath? Bandits crawling up the sides of buildings?” He gave a polite snort of disbelief that made the entire thing seem ludicrous.

  “And what exactly do you think happened to the emeralds, Ashdowne?” Savonierre asked.

  Ashdowne shrugged, as if disinterested. “You know how women are. I suspect that this is all much ado about nothing and that the lady simply misplaced her jewelry.”

  Savonierre gave a soft, humorless laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that, Ashdowne, as my man here has searched the room for clues several times over. Haven’t you, Jeffries?” he said over his shoulder, and the Bow Street Runner nodded grimly.

  Ashdowne appeared unconcerned. “For clues to some heinous crime perhaps, but for the necklace itself?” His brow lifted in silent query. “Perhaps it became tangled in the bedcovers or fell underneath the furniture,” he suggested.

  Jeffries, moving in closer, shook his head, his expression sober. “I would have seen it, my lord.”

  “Well, then, perhaps Lady Culpepper mislaid it, in a drawer while pressed for time. Or maybe she put it away in a another jewel case? I am not suggesting any ill intentions on her part, mind you, but a simple case of carelessness. Ladies these days have so much jewelry, I don’t know how they keep track of it all.”

  Jeffries, looking like a dog that had been thrown a bone, immediately turned toward Lady Culpepper. “Have you more than one place where you keep your gems, my lady?” he asked.

  “Of course, but—” she began only to be cut off by Jeffries’s eager speech.

  “Please show me,” he said.

  “I will not! Why, this is outrageous!” she protested, looking down her aristocratic nose at the Bow Street Runner.

  “Is there a reason why you would refuse such a reasonable request?” Georgiana asked, only to have the older woman swing toward her, a wrathful expression on her wrinkled countenance.

  “You!” she sputtered, as if ready to launch into a diatribe. But then she halted, red faced, for she could hardly attack Georgiana when this gathering had been held to celebrate her engagement. Pasting a smile on her face, she nodded curtly, then turned back to Jeffries. “Come along then, you, and be quick about it, for I don’t intend to waste my evening in my room when I have a houseful of guests.”

  Several of those nearby lauded Lady Culpepper for her graciousness, while others muttered imprecations about the Bow Street Runner they saw as overstepping his limited bounds. Only Savonierre kept his gaze upon Ashdowne, his regard so intent that it made Georgiana shiver. Suddenly cold, she inched closer to the marquis and his warmth.

  They did not have long to wait. Georgiana thought she heard a faint shriek, and then Jeffries hurried down the stairs, the necklace in hand, while Lady Culpepper followed behind. She did not look at all pleased to have recovered her favorite piece. She wore a grim expression and glanced toward Savonierre with what Georgiana suspected was trepidation. Without sparing her a glance, he drew close to examine the gems.

  When he pronounced them genuine with a harsh murmur, the crowd surged forward, eager to garner a glimpse of the famous emeralds, all except Georgiana and Ashdowne. Suddenly her legs felt unsteady, and her fingers trembled with the force of her relief at this turn of events.

  As she sagged against him, Georgiana realized that while everyone below was awaiting his arrival, Ashdowne had managed to return the gems to some other jewelry box, which meant that he could hardly be held accountable for this theft. And the others, being a year ago and more, seemed far too long past to worry about.

  He was safe, and Georgiana took his arm, her fingers squeezing his solid muscles as if to reassure herself of the truth. But when she flicked a glance toward Savonierre, she wondered if her joy was not a bit premature, for she could tell by one look at him that the powerful man was not finished with them. Indeed, the thought had barely crossed her mind, when he approached, and she had to force herself to keep her place, instead of backing away.

  “May I have a word with you both?” he asked, tilting his head toward the salon where he had once questioned Georgiana.

  “Certainly,” Ashdowne said with his usual grace. Georgiana did not feel as sanguine, but clung to his side as Savonierre led them into the dim room. Once they were seated, their host shut the door behind him and walked to the center of the room, where he bowed his head in a gesture of acknowledgment.

  “Touché, Miss Bellewether, Ashdowne. In this instance, I must concede my defeat,” he said. Waving away Ashdowne’s show of puzzlement with a deliberate move of his hand, he stood facing them. “No. Let me explain myself,” he said.

  “At one time I conducted a liaison with a certain lady of the ton, to whom I gave, as a token of my appreciation, a diamond necklace of some value. Although my interest in the lady did not last, you can imagine my annoyance when the piece of jewelry I gifted her was stolen by a rather infamous burglar of the time whom the papers had dubbed The Cat.”

  Savonierre paused, his lips curling as if to show contempt for that title, but Ashdowne did not react. He evidenced only a polite interest that drew Georgiana’s admiration. For her part, it was all she could do not to reveal the stark terror that had struck her the moment Savonierre began to speak.

  “In my irritation, I decided that I would put a stop to this fellow’s thievery. Mind you, I had always found his exploits mildly amusing until he dared take what was mine.” Savonierre’s hard face made Georgiana stifle a shudder, and she gripped her hands together to contain her agitation.

  “It took me several months to reach a conclusion concerning the robber’s identity, but to my dismay, he had come into some good fortune, which precluded the continuation of his criminal activities. However, I was fairly confident that I could draw him out for one last theft,” Savonierre said, pausing to eye Ashdowne intently. “You see I understood his desire for danger, for the thrill of duping the idle ton. I could even admire the fellow’s cleverness, if only he had not dared to take what was mine.”

  “Really, Mr. Savonierre,” Georgiana protested, alarmed by the direction of his speech, but he cut her off with a cool smile.

  “A moment more of your indulgence, please,” he said, turning once more toward Ashdowne. “Unwilling to let the matter lie, I began setting traps for him, but to my frustration, The Cat was too busy or too disinterested to fall for the bait. Taking all the information that I had, I finally decided that, given his current situation, the thief would only make an appearance if I got personal, as he had with me. So I did.” He smiled, a twist of his mouth that made Georgiana tremble.

  “But I underestimated him,” Savonierre said. Although his expression did not show it, she could hear the bitterness in his voice. “I had set the scene to perfection, but The Cat made sure that someone drew me away just long enough for him to steal the bait, so I could not catch him in the act, as I had intended. However, I was certain that I could still expose him.”

  Savonierre paused to frown consideringly. “Unfortunately, the Bow Street Runner I hired proved incompetent, and though I had high hopes for your abilities, Miss Bellewether,” he said, turning to face her, “I had not taken into account that the thief might use his seductive powers to persuade you to abandon your efforts.”

  “That’s enough, Savonierre,” Ashdowne said, rising from his seat, his own expression hard. “I have no idea what you’re implying, but I won’t let you malign Georgiana.”

  Did a flicker of surprise appear in Savonierre’s fathomless eyes? Georgiana wasn’t certain, but he inclined his head in polite concession. “I beg your pardon.”

  Ashdowne scowled, as if unwilling to accept the smooth apology that rang false, but when, if ever, was Savonierre sincere? Georgiana wondered.

  “You are free to go, of course, but be advised that I won’t rest until I have—” Savonierre began, only to be cut off by Ashdowne’s harsh exclamation.

  “No! You be advised, Savonierre,” he muttered in a low t
one that held its own threat. “Be advised that the necklace was paste, and if I were you, I wouldn’t waste time chasing after a man who stole a fake from your ex-mistress. Instead, you might ask her just what she did with the real jewelry.”

  Although little enough showed on Savonierre’s face, Georgiana trembled with the force of his reaction. He seemed to fill the room with a surge of energy, as if the struggle to maintain his polite civility was nearly too much for him. And then, as swiftly as it had come, the powerful sensation was gone, and Georgiana was left wondering what Savonierre would do now.

  Would he take Ashdowne’s words as an admission of guilt? Have them both thrown in prison, or demand satisfaction? To her surprise, he did none of those things, but simply inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgment.

  “If you are right, then I must extend my apologies. I will, of course, take your advice.” With a slight smile of deprecation, he appeared to concede the game he had been playing, leaving Georgiana and Ashdowne to stare after him in mute surprise.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It seemed to Ashdowne as if all of Bath had turned out for the wedding, whether out of curiosity or as the final celebration of a summer spent in the picturesque city. Although Georgiana’s mother had been heard to term the swift preparations for the event “scandalous,” her father simply had claimed that Ashdowne knew his own mind and the sooner they were wed the better, in his opinion.

  Ashdowne agreed heartily, for during the past weeks he had often been tempted to carry Georgiana off to Gretna Green in an impulsive and primitive act of possession. But he wanted no furtive whispers about their union and so the nuptials had been hurriedly planned and finally held this morning at the old abbey, with a breakfast following at the house in Camden Place.

  And tonight, at last, Georgiana would be his. Ashdowne drew in a breath in an effort to restrain the passion that had been building in him for months. Slanting a glance at his bride in her deceptively simple blue silk gown, he thought about stripping the elegant creation from her gorgeous body and knew a sharp urge to throw her over his shoulder and march upstairs right now, the guests be damned.