Thief Steals Her Earl

by McKnight, Christina

  Women and gentlemen of varying social status blended and shifted between pairings, the jovial mood of the day reaching as far as the eye could see.

  “Do hurry,” Sam said, tugging on Jude’s arm in an attempt to pull her closer to a grouping of finely dressed gentlemen. “There are many people I seek to make an acquaintance with.”

  Lady Chastain, Ellie to her close friends, shook her head at Sam’s insistence. “Samantha, I was given strict instructions to keep a close watch on the pair of you.”

  “Then come with us.” Sam turned her pleading stare on the younger woman, newly married only a short time before. “We cannot get into too much trouble under your watchful eye.”

  “Marce was very firm when she finally agreed to allow you both to attend Lady Haversham’s garden party with me.” The woman had matured much since marrying Lord Chastain, once a mere stable hand. No longer was she the girl with unruly, fiery red hair who favored a turn at pickpocketing strangers. Now, she wore her hair securely bound atop her head and wore dresses of the finest muslin and satin prints, compliments of her brother-in-law’s shipping imports. “Besides, it is most improper to address a gentleman before the suitable introductions have been made.”

  Jude didn’t mind wandering aimlessly through the crowd for the entire afternoon. She was lucky to be allowed out of Craven House at all. She’d expected her eldest sister to keep her locked away for a fortnight after Marce had collected Jude from the night watchman the morning before. However, when Ellie had arrived and begged for Jude and Sam to accompany her to the party, Marce had relented.

  “Do you not know any of these men?” Sam implored.

  Ellie eyed the group, most no older than Sam and Jude. “I think I may have met the tall one on occasion, but heavens, I do not know his name.”

  At that moment, one of the men looked in their direction, noticed them staring, and elbowed his friend. Both turned wide grins on the trio, but none ventured toward them.

  “At least, someone has a bit of sense,” Jude commented. “They know the height of indecorum it is and the gossip it would cause, to attend us without an introduction.”

  “I thought Lady Haversham favored casual gatherings and open conversations.” Sam released Jude’s arm and gave a quick wave to the men. “It cannot hurt overly much to stop and say hello. Or maybe I can discreetly drop my handkerchief and they will chivalrously rescue it from the ground and return it.”

  Ellie snorted and quickly covered her mouth at the unladylike sound.

  “I enjoyed your company more before you turned all matronly,” Sam prodded, hoping to draw out Ellie’s fiery temper. “What next? You will be scolding young women for dancing too close at Almacks?”

  Jude let out a laugh, its melodious sound echoing over the crowd, drawing a few stares.

  “All I am asking is for you to await Alex’s arrival,” Ellie said. “He will be more than happy to make introductions to men of a proper caliber.”

  “Oh, poppycock.” Sam lifted the hem of her gown off the ground and stepped around a couple enjoying tiny sandwiches on a lavender blanket. “Maybe we should have invited Payton along. At least she is still a sport from time to time. I suppose I will need to wander about until I meet a gentleman I’ve been properly introduced to before.”

  Jude followed Sam’s gaze as she surveyed the gathering, lingering on a certain gentleman.

  She narrowed her eyes to make out the man’s features.

  “Oh, there is my dear husband now,” Ellie fairly sang. “Do excuse me for a moment. He is speaking with Lady Archiberry—I must rescue him. Do not go far, I will only be a moment, and then we will focus our efforts on introductions.”

  “Of course,” Jude said as the woman moved to her husband’s side.

  Sam still stared at the older gentleman about thirty feet away, where he spoke with another man.

  “I think that is Lord Asherton.” Sam stood on her tiptoes as a pair of tall men blocked their view. “Do you see him?”

  Jude had had quite enough of Lord Asherton—and any purported Bible leaves in his possession—after spending a night locked in a room due to being caught—both inside and outside his home. She’d never actually made the man’s acquaintance, nor did she favor a meeting this day.

  “Come, I have much to speak with him about.”

  “Sam, it is not safe,” Jude said, not moving as her sister pulled her arm. “I was at his home not long ago. It was a fool’s errand. He was likely toying with you. He owns no such valuables as he said.”

  “You know I want answers as much as you do,” Sam encouraged.

  “No.” Jude shook her head, the ringlets framing her face bobbing with the movement. “I do not need, nor do I want answers. I want distance from the man. Let me remind you, a child within his home saw me.”

  “There—“

  “Listen to what I am saying, Sam,” Jude begged. “My cap fell to the floor; my auburn hair was exposed. The girl had a candle blazing, its glow reached me. She saw me. She was likely the one who described me to the butler, who called the night watchman. I will not venture forth. And in case you have forgotten, we are identical. Suspicion may be cast upon you, just as easily as me.”

  “I do not relish giving up,” Sam said. “He is very clearly an unmarried man. He has been lavishing attention on me for weeks now. I am certain if a child were living in his home, he would have shared that information.”

  “Have you stopped to think he is not enamored with you?” Jude asked, striking the one area that Sam was most sensitive about. “Besides, he danced with several ladies the other night.”

  “I do not believe it.” Sam’s tone deepened as she spoke, her smoky voice catching the attention of the long-forgotten group of men. “He cares for me.”

  “Truly?” Jude whispered. “Do you care for him or only his valuables?”

  “That is neither here nor there. Oh, look, he is coming this way.”

  Sam turned a triumphant smile her way as if to say she’d won, that Asherton was, indeed, attracted to her charms.

  Jude wasn’t so certain that was a prize her sister truthfully wanted to win.

  They both smiled as Lord Asherton arrived, his cohort left behind to take up conversation with another man.

  “Good day, Miss Samantha,” he hailed, looking between the twins. His tentative smile told Jude he hoped one of the women before him would accept his greeting and end the awkward silence his unsure comments had started.

  But both remained silent—a game Jude had once enjoyed, though now found tedious.

  Jude had nothing to say, but Sam—for all her languishing over the man’s affections—should have something to say in greeting.

  Lord Asherton shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting on Sam to out herself.

  Finally, her twin put the man out of his misery. “My lord,” she replied, giving him a quick curtsey. “It is a lovely day, is it not?”

  The man grinned, showing off his slightly uneven teeth, no doubt something Sam would boast about finding endearing. “That it is, Miss Samantha. I do hope I find you…and your sister,”—he added as if in afterthought, though it was more likely he didn’t remember Jude’s name—“in good health.”

  “You do, my lord.” Sam placed her palm at Jude’s back. “May I introduce my dear sister, Miss Judith Pengarden.”

  Asherton bowed, certainly more than was deserving for two women lacking any substantial link to nobility. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Miss Samantha speaks fondly of you,” he said conspiratorially as if Jude should be shocked.

  “Odd that.”

  “Why, may I ask?” he asked.

  “I fear my dear sister has never mentioned your name.” For her snide words, Jude received a quick elbow to her ribs. “But, that is to be forgiven as she is overwhelmed by the grandness of her first London season.”

  “I am certain I have mentioned dear Lord Asherton on many occasions,” Sam retorted with a smile of apology. “Maybe
it is my youngest sibling who I’ve been regaling with stories of your dashing presence, my lord.”

  “It must be,” Jude continued. “Or maybe it was I. Is Lord Asherton the man with the loving young child living with him?”

  Sam forced a grin at her sister’s cunning.

  “Oh, certainly not,” he huffed. “No children here. I have yet to take a woman as wife.”

  “No nieces or young cousins in residence?” Jude continued to prod.

  “Only child, I am afraid,” he confessed. “Though I am not opposed to a large family.”

  A puzzled expression crossed Sam’s face at the man’s words. Jude hadn’t the faintest idea what had gone wrong. “Oh, then I must be mistaken.”

  “Maybe you are overcome by the season, as well, Miss Judith.” The man tried to gloss over her previous words. “One meets many people while in society and even I, who’ve been about town for many years, find it hard to remember names, faces, and associations.”

  At his comment, Jude realized the man was, in reality, twice their age. Most men of his advanced years were settled with a family. However, Lord Asherton remained unwed. Curious, that.

  “Oh, Samantha, Lady Chastain is waving for us,” Jude said in distraction. “I believe she is ready for us to join her once more.”

  “Yes, I see that. Do excuse us, Lord Asherton.”

  “It was lovely to meet you,” Jude said.

  “Of course, Miss Samantha.” He nodded. “Miss Judith. I do hope to see you about town soon. I would greatly enjoy a dance with both of you.”

  “You are too kind.” Jude smiled reassuringly at the older man. “We shall both endeavor to save a place for you on our dance cards.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Sam said with little remaining interest. “It was lovely to see you today. Have a fair afternoon.”

  After a quick curtsey, Sam and Jude started toward Ellie where she stood at her husband’s side before veering off to an area unpopulated with partygoers.

  “Did you send me into the wrong house?” Jude whispered vehemently. “Tell me you did not.”

  “I most undoubtedly did not do it on purpose.”

  “Nevertheless, somehow, you did,” Jude seethed. “I should wring your neck.”

  “But you shall not,” Sam smirked, knowing her sister would not risk embarrassing their hostess or Lady Chastain by acting in an unfashionable manner for all to witness. “You cannot be vexed with me. It was an innocent mistake.”

  It was certainly a mistake. But innocent? Jude wasn’t so sure.

  If things were not as dire as they were, Jude could have continued to rely on her eldest sister to provide for them, but something had changed in previous years. Marce continued to appear exhausted and strained. More women had sought out Craven House for help—and they never turned any person in need away. Mouths were multiplying faster than coin was made.

  Marce had even gone so far as to sell her more fashionable dresses.

  And then the letters of delinquency had started arriving. She’d tried to broach the subject with her family, but had been immediately silenced by her eldest sister each time. The bills and expenses of Craven House should not weigh on her, Sam, and Payton, Marce had insisted over and over.

  And so, Jude and Sam had taken matters into their own hands, employing Jude’s vast knowledge and passion for art and other rarities.

  “I cannot believe I was in the wrong house the entire time,” Jude sighed. “I could have been discovered the moment I entered. Then what would have become of me?”

  Sam only stared, wisely keeping silent.

  “No need to answer me. It does not take much pondering to know I would be thrown in the gaol, forgotten.”

  “Dear sister.” Sam grasped her hands. “I will never allow such a fate to befall you—and if, heaven forbid, anything amiss were to happen, I would fight for you…I wouldn’t let anything happen.”

  Jude wished that were true; that if they were ever caught, they could disentangle themselves from the troubles they’d put themselves in. She never wanted to put herself at risk again.

  “Let us not speak of this further.” Sam motioned over Jude’s shoulder to where a pair of men made their way from the main house toward the garden party. “There will be many hours for us to figure where we went wrong.”

  With a closer look, Jude realized the man looked familiar to her, though she could not place from where she knew him. Possibly, they’d once danced at a ball or passed one another in the park. His brown hair fell over one eye, and he dressed as a workingman, certainly not a lord of any standing, though his steps were sure and confident. His hands were stuffed deeply in his trouser pockets as he and his associate discussed something of import, judging from the serious expression his face carried.

  “Does that man look familiar?” she asked Sam. “Do not let them see you stare.”

  “I am unsure.” Sam’s brow furrowed pensively. “He is a bit older than I prefer—though possibly, he is a friend of an acquaintance…”

  “Not the elderly man,” Jude corrected. “His companion.”

  “Him?” Sam tilted her head and squinted. “I am fairly certain I have never seen the man before—or if we attended a function with him, I would not notice. He’s dressed like a shopkeeper.”

  The men were within a few feet of them now, their conversation drifting on the breeze.

  “…no. It is in bad form to assume a piece can be bought if enough money is proffered,” the gentleman insisted to the older man. “I certainly can act on your behalf to make an offer for the piece, but aside from that, it is up to Mr. Honeycomb if he seeks to part with it.”

  The men grew closer still, as if their discussion was so intense that neither noticed Jude or her sister in their path. They walked slowly but with purpose, their heads slightly lowered.

  Jude had certainly seen the man before; his brown hair, a bit too long for the standard, his dress not that of a lord but more a man of business…

  “But you think he will look favorably upon my offer?” the older man asked.

  Before Jude could stop her, Sam stepped from her side—directly into the men’s paths and smiled, a sly upturn of the corner of her lips. Anyone who knew her sister—or other marriage-minded females—would see the devious bent in her stare.

  “Samantha,” Jude hissed in warning, but she was too late to deter her twin from whatever course she’d set out on.

  “Oh, kind gentlemen,” Sam gushed, coming to a stop mere inches from the men, stopping their progress toward the garden party. “I do apologize for nearly stumbling into you both. My sister and I”—she motioned to Jude standing a few feet away—“were on our way to…well, it’s no matter where we were going.”

  Sam smiled coyly at the pair.

  The brown-haired man seemed anxious to continue on their way—and with their discussion—however, the elderly man took Sam in from head to toe and back again, pausing briefly to admire the woman’s snug-fitting bodice. He stood a bit taller at the sight of Jude and her sister. This was not an uncommon reaction when one—or both of them—were seen in public.

  Identical in every way but their voice, Sam and Jude were taller than most women of their acquaintance with matching swanlike necks and long, auburn tresses. They sported green eyes that Marce said drew people to them, a mirror into a meadow after a rainstorm.

  “My ladies,” the older man said. “It is likely our fault our paths nearly collided. I am Lord Barton.” He gave them a deep bow, bending at his portly waist with exaggerated action. “And this is Lord Cartwright, a dear friend.”

  Lord Cartwright turned an odd look at Barton as if he’d never met the man.

  Jude took the time to take in the younger man’s form; tall, with wide shoulders, but certainly not overly agile in the sense of a sportsman.

  “I am Miss Samantha Pengarden,” Sam said, dipping into a curtsey. “And this is my dear sister, Miss Judith.” She used the same expression Barton had—and Jude was tempted to gi
ve her the same puzzled look Lord Cartwright had given the older man.

  She’d been wrong about the man. He dressed the part of a man of business but held a title. He did not hold himself like many of the arrogant society men she’d met during her short time following her introduction to society. He more mirrored the image of her brother, Lord Garrett, and his set of friends—unpretentious, welcoming, and pleasant.

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Lord Cartwright offered reluctantly. It was as if Sam’s charms and sultry tone went unnoticed by him. Nervously, he continued, “As Lord Barton stated, we offer our apologies for stumbling into your way. Rude, very rude, indeed. Do have a pleasant stroll.”

  Lord Cartwright looked to Barton, clearly expecting him to lower his head and continue with their discussion as they joined the garden party farther down the lawn, but the older man had yet to remove his watchful gaze from Sam.

  Though he could hardly be blamed as Jude watched her twin preen before the man. She even went so far as to bat her lashes before turning her gaze to the ground as if a bout of shyness overtook her.

  “Miss….Miss…Samantha.” Barton’s stare held at Sam’s bosom for a moment longer than proper before he returned to his senses—realizing he stood not far from a garden party and his gaze was highly inappropriate. “May I offer to escort you for a turnabout the party?” He looked to Jude quickly, almost seeking her approval. “I shall return her to your care presently, Miss Judith.”

  Any gentleman worth his weight in salt should comprehend that requesting the presence of a lady, at the expense of leaving her sister without company, was in bad form, but the man was clearly smitten—as most men tended to be. From Sam’s smile, he’d done exactly as she’d hoped.

  “Do not fret,” Jude attempted to reassure the man. “Lady Chastain, my dearest friend, is yonder. I shall seek her out.”

  “Allow Lord Cartwright to accompany you,” Barton insisted, holding out his arm for Sam to take—to the other lord’s extreme dismay. “See, now everything is solved. I will take Miss Samantha for a quick walk while Cart returns you safely to Lady Chastain, Miss Judith.” The man seemed pleased with the plan he’d come up with, his toothy grin evidence of the fact. “What say you, Cart?”