At what point had Cart compromised his integrity so far that he felt only a small degree of the guilt that should weigh him down at this point?
Cart took a small step away from the man, causing Gunther’s hand to fall back to his side.
“Antiquities are my passion.” The statement was as true as it had been before he’d had the misfortune of meeting Miss Judith and would be just as true after she was out of his life and forgotten. “The passion extends to my own collecting and the safeguarding of all things of a historical nature.”
The older man nodded as Cart spoke, clearly encouraged by his declaration.
“Then I will wish you Godspeed, Lord Cartwright.”
Cart bowed stiffly, accepting the man’s good wishes, though he didn’t deserve them. “I know my way out. Good day, my lord.”
As he fled Lord Gunther’s townhouse, he noticed his strides were no longer sure and wide, but short and hurried—almost as if he were running away from something. When, in fact, he sensed he was running toward something. Or rather, someone.
His sense of obligation toward Jude knew no bounds—and bordered on irrational. He was now determined to extricate her from the predicament she’d placed herself in.
With the money, she should have no reason to steal…and he would have her word that she’d never put herself in harm’s way again.
Chapter 19
“I’ve had enough,” Jude declared, throwing her cards face up on the table.
“That is not fair,” Payton whined. “You must finish the hand. It is the way of things.”
“You are only jealous that Jude has won nearly every hand when you fancy yourself a master at cards,” Sam said with a chuckle, not bothering to look up from the gossip sheet she read.
“How dare you!” Payton pushed from her seat and launched herself at Sam where she lounged on a settee a few feet away.
“Do pipe down,” Sam said flippantly.
“Tsk, tsk,” Garrett said, wrapping his arms around Payton’s waist as she flew through the air toward Jude’s twin. “Do not be a spoilsport. She won fair and square almost a dozen rounds ago.”
“Any player can demand the right to win back their coin before another player leaves the table,” Payton quoted the rules followed at gentlemen’s card rooms, such as White’s and their own home, Craven House. “Is that not so, Garrett?” She squirmed to break free from his hold, her eyes still locked on Sam, who reclined with ease but had set the paper aside in case Garrett’s hold should fail.
“It is, you little minx—“ He released his youngest sibling but kept a firm hold on her wrist. “However, you were given the opportunity to turn your luck around. That was four rounds ago.”
“Before you lost a month’s worth of allowance, I might add,” Sam continued, brushing an invisible piece of dust from her skirt as if unworried Payton would leap for her again. “But I will make certain Jude buys some pretty hair ribbons with your coin. Something that would suit our auburn locks—and unfavorable to hair of a darker color.”
Jude smirked, knowing their bickering was for nothing as each girl always slipped their allowance back into Marce’s office when their sister was otherwise occupied. Marce never mentioned the returned coin, and neither did Sam, Jude or Payton address the issue.
“Cheats!” Payton screamed, wrenching from Garrett’s hold. “You are all thieving cheats!”
“Payton.” The commanding boom in Garrett’s voice even had Jude whipping her stare to him. “That is not only unfair, but also unsportsmanlike of you. That will not be repeated again, inside—or outside—of this house.”
Jude had never noticed his severe similarity to his only full sibling, Marce, until that exact moment. The tone and sternness of his command matched that of their eldest sister, though Payton was not to be deterred from her tantrum.
“The pair of you”—Payton pointed first to Jude and then Sam, where she now busied herself inspecting her shortly trimmed nails—“are conniving—”
“I said, enough!” Garrett’s nostrils flared and Jude waited for him to lose his temper completely. “The three of you are like a rabid pack of dogs. When will you ever learn to trust those in your family? It is people outside that circle who will do you harm.”
Jude glanced between Sam and Payton, each staring at their brother without a thing to say. Even Payton’s anger subsided as his words sank in.
“You have each other and that is far more than most have,” he continued. “This petty bickering is pointless and will get none of you anywhere. And all over a few hands of cards. Despicable.”
Again, Jude was led to believe that Garrett’s meaning went far deeper than any of them could understand. She suspected it had much to do with Garrett’s older half-brother. The man had refused any association with Marce or Garrett after their mutual father died and he’d inherited the estate, throwing Marce, Garrett, and their mother out in the cold on the very same day.
But, Garrett and Marce had said long ago that the man was dead to them, and that their mother had made sure they all had a secure home which would never be taken from them.
“Payton,” Jude said, standing from the table. “I had no intention of collecting on our wager.”
“It has naught to do with the coin.” Payton slouched back into her chair. “I have been working very hard…and it seems I am just not an adequate player.”
“What do you mean you’ve been working hard?” Garrett asked from the sideboard where he poured another drink.
“She thinks she can count cards.” Sam had no remorse telling Payton’s secret obsession to Garrett as she grabbed the gossip rag again and spread it across her lap. “I have told her it is a waste of time, for when she marries, it will all be for nothing. Her time would be better spent on reading the sheets.”
“Why?” Payton collected the discarded cards and prepared to shuffle them. “So I can study all the eligible men and select a target?”
“Target,” Jude laughed at Payton’s choice of word—a very accurate term, indeed.
“That is not at all what I am doing,” Sam huffed. “I only seek to avoid getting embroiled with an unfavorable man, especially one known to be a rakehell.”
“Because you can be the only rakehell in a relationship?” Payton continued to poke, paying Sam back for her harsh words earlier. “You do not need to know names, only pick a man old enough to be your father…”
Jude covered her mouth to stifle her chuckle at Payton’s precocious comment, happy for the moment of distraction and allowing it to take her mind off the fact that Cart had kept his distance.
“Ladies,” Garrett said after he’d drained yet another tumbler of port fortified with a spot of brandy—cringing at the foul taste. “Do not kill one another on my watch.”
A solid pounding sounded from the front of the house.
They all glanced at the tall clock in the corner. It was barely past midday and certainly none of them were expecting anyone. It was rare that anyone came calling at Craven House, especially since Ellie had married Lord Chastain.
“Guests shouldn’t be arriving for many more hours,” Garrett mused aloud as they listened for the front door to shut after Mr. Curtis answered the knock. “Which of you is in trouble?”
He jested, but Jude quickly looked to Sam, who shrugged her shoulders in response. Neither had left the house since the night before. When they’d arrived home, Garrett had been duly occupied, so much so that he’d still failed to notice the new painting hanging in their foyer, small as it was. Hidden in plain sight seemed to be their family’s greatest secret—even Marce saw no reason to hide her chest of coins.
Jude hoped their luck held and it wasn’t the magistrate seeking either of them. Or another letter demanding money for unsettled debts.
But when Curtis stepped into the room and looked at her directly, Jude feared her time outside the confines of the magistrate’s quarters was about to end. In her mind, she thought through all the things she’d request to take with her: her com
b and brush set—not that she was vain in any way, but her hair became knotted fairly easily—and her warm blanket crafted so many years ago by their housekeeper for Jude had always loathed the cold. Maybe a few books to keep her occupied during her time away. Sad, but that was about all she possessed, besides her clothes, and she’d certainly have no place for her armoire of fancy gowns and kid gloves. Not where she was going. Everything else would remain here at Craven House.
“Miss Judith,” Curtis nodded as if he somehow knew he was personally sending her to the tower—if she were so lucky to gain entrance into such a fine housing for thieves, she’d likely be relegated to far worse accommodations at Newgate. “Ye have a visitor. Would ye be like’n’ me ta show him here?”
Jude glanced at Garrett, his interest piqued at the surprise visitor. Then to Sam, who’d gone back to her reading, showing no interest. Payton began shuffling her cards once more, hoping one of her siblings would slip into the chair that Jude had vacated.
“I am expecting no one.” Though in all truth, she knew who awaited her in the foyer—and had quite possibly brought the fifty pounds she’d requested for the vase. “I will meet with him in Marce’s receiving room.”
It was located toward the front of the house, but also not far from the side entrance of Craven House. It allowed her sister’s special guests to come and go without fear of being seen from the street.
“I shall return,” Jude casually called over her shoulder. With great luck, none of her siblings made to follow her as she walked from the room where Mr. Curtis waited just outside.
He held a small card out to her before continuing, “He said ta give ye this.”
Jude was relieved that Curtis hadn’t announced the man’s name to everyone.
Looking down, she found what she’d expected to see.
The Earl of Cartwright
Simon Montgomery
It was written in bold, heavy script, obviously printed by the finest calligrapher in London. There were no flourishes or fancy lettering. Exactly what she’d expect from Cart—never an overdone or fanciful man, with the exception of his cravat.
“Do ye want me ta show him ta the room, Miss Judith?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Curtis,” Jude said, placing her hand on the elderly man’s arm in reassurance. “I will meet him in the foyer and show him myself.”
“I will have tea brought round.”
While Jude would enjoy nothing more than an afternoon spent with Cart, comfortably chatting and debating topics of mutual interest, she also knew she needed to exchange the vase for the banknotes and have Cart out of the house before Garrett decided to look into her guest. Or heaven help her, Craven House’s card room began to receive guests for the evening’s gathering.
She also sought to hide Craven House’s true nature, as it would reflect poorly on her if Cart didn’t understand the reasoning behind Marce’s nightly endeavors.
Though, it was possible Lord Cartwright already knew Craven House’s secret and even darker past and chose to overlook it. That was more than Jude could hope for any man of the ton to do.
Curtis nodded and turned in the direction of the kitchens, leaving Jude to make her way to the foyer. As she moved soundlessly down the hall, she heard Cart mumbling—possibly numbers…
“Lord Cartwright,” Jude greeted him formally in case someone lurked close. “Lovely of you to call.”
He bowed before her—a little too stiffly and a bit too low. “Miss Judith.”
When he said not another word, his eyes roaming the entry, Jude continued, “I had expected word from you a few days ago.”
“Ah, well, some things take time,” he replied.
As like at the library, something was not right with Cart.
“We can talk more in here.” Jude swept her arm in the direction of Marce’s private receiving room. “Right this way.”
“Of course, Miss Judith,” Cart said, taking the first step in the direction Jude had motioned. He began to talk as they walked toward the room, a bit of normalcy returning—whatever normal was for Lord Cartwright. “My sincerest apologies for not calling sooner—“
Abruptly, his words cut off and he stopped in his tracks, focusing on the small painting hanging on the wall.
“My lord?” Jude asked as his eyes narrowed on the landscape and his hand rose to touch it.
“This painting…”
“It is breathtaking, is it not?”
“It was not here on my last visit.”
“No,” she confessed. “It is newly acquired.”
“I..cannot…where…”
He seemed as captivated with it as she’d been when she’d taken it. “Can you imagine a place so beautiful in all of the world?”
Jude’s unease grew as he clearly recognized the painting—the one she’d taken only the night before.
“I can,” Cart replied.
“And to think, it is in England.” Jude stepped to his side, taking her eyes off him and looking at the painting that held his complete attention. She would be lying if she said it didn’t bother her to have mere objects overtake his attention so completely, but she sensed it was more than just the beauty of the painting that captured him. It was as if he were looking at something entirely familiar to him while she’d become something he didn’t recognize.
“I came here to try and save you, Miss Judith.” Sadness crept into this voice, as if he’d lost something truly valuable. “But I see I cannot.”
“What do you mean, my lord?” He could not know that she’d taken the painting only days before in an attempt to salvage their plan to help Marce. The air around them electrified—and Jude felt their attachment unravel. What good would it do to deny stealing the painting? Instead, she would say nothing.
They stood side by side, neither looking at the other, their voices kept even as if they spoke over tea. Panic infused every limb in her body.
“You are a thief.” If she hadn’t locked her knees at the accusation, she’d have been knocked over by the hushed fury in the statement. “A common thief. I should have sounded the alarm on you at the first warning sign. I should have known you for what you truly are when I’d seen Lord Gunther’s stolen vase in your possession.”
Jude sucked in a breath, unable to speak as her heart about pounded out of her chest.
“You knew?” she asked. He’d known all this time, yet he hadn’t called the magistrate on her and had even offered to purchase the vase.
“Where did you get this painting?” Venom dripped from his every word, a rage Jude had never thought him capable of.
She could only shake her head—in denial, in remorse, in utter disbelief that all the good she was trying to do was being brought down in this manner, by the one man she thought could one day understand her.
“I said, where did you get this painting?” His voice rose with anger, bouncing off the walls and traveling deeper into the house.
If she didn’t calm him soon, Garrett and her sisters would come running.
“Lord Cartwright, please…”
“Please, what?” He finally turned toward her, the painting forgotten. “Please do not expose you for the thief you are? Please do not send for the authorities? Please do not ask how a painting—commissioned by my father before his death—came to reside on your wall? You ask much of me, Miss Judith.”
“I did not—“ Thankfully, he cut off her, stopping yet another lie from crossing her lips.
“You are not the victim here.” His chin lifted and he glared down his nose at her as if expecting her to disagree.
But all of his words were true.
Cart was shaking—not outwardly, but internally he’d been shaken to his core by the depths of her deceitful nature. He’d prayed her possession of the vase had some other reasonable explanation. Something his rational mind could grasp and reconcile; anything that would enable him to process and understand her devious activities and return to the time—not that long ago—when he thought her a woman of p
erfection.
He glared into her moss-green eyes, noticing for the first time the hazel flecks sprinkled within. But he couldn’t allow this new discovery to dim his fury. He wouldn’t allow it to take away from the hurt he felt at her treachery.
“Do I even know you?” He kept his stare intense and she seemed to wilt before him. “Has it all been a ruse to make me look the fool?”
She only shook her head again as water gathered in her eyes, threatening to spill over.
He would not let her feminine tactics dissuade him from gaining the answer he sought, the answers he needed to move forward—in whichever direction those answers led him.
“Are you interested in antiquities or is it only a means to line your pockets?” Cart had witnessed her passion for history firsthand at the museum but even now, he could not trust his eyes. Cart had so many questions rising to the surface. “What more do you have hidden within these walls?”
His hand shot out and grasped her elbow as he pulled her farther from the foyer. He needed answers and shouting at her in the foyer was not the way or the place to attain them. “Come, let us seek a bit of privacy to discuss your felonious behavior at length.”
“No.” She planted her feet and jerked Cart to a stop only feet down the hallway off the foyer. “I did not do this to hurt you.”
Cart tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her close, his face mere inches from hers. “The bloody hell you did not.”
“Cart…” The word came on a sob. “I assure you...”
“Your assurances and promises mean nothing,” he hissed. “Did you think to make me look the bigger fool than I already do to society?”
“This has nothing to do with—“
At that, Cart laughed, a maniacal chuckle that scared even him. It was clear that if he did not rein in his emotions, he’d lose the upper hand with her. “It has everything to do with me.”
He’d been taken advantage of by so many people in his short life: his uncle, his mother, and now, Jude. And he’d been unaware of any of it until it was too late.
She pulled away and he released her arm. “If you will only listen to me.”
Thief Steals Her Earl Page 19