“Ye’ll be shot and die on a battlefield in France,” she said, voice hard and cold. “Think I care?”
“I’ll leave you everything,” he said. “I’m taking only what’s on my back.”
She shrugged, pretending tears weren’t stinging her eyes. She couldn’t let him see her cry, couldn’t let him know she cared. There would be time for that later. Plenty of time to curse him and herself for ever believing he loved her.
“Good-bye, Jenny,” he said. She flicked a wrist at him and went back to sitting on the edge of the roof. After a time, he came out of the door below and walked away, toward Mayfair.
He never even once looked back.
V
London 1806
“The thief is back again, my lord.”
“Oh, excellent, Quinnell!” Viscount Chamberlayne rose from the chair in his bed chamber and rubbed his hands together. “My ruse worked.”
“Yes, my lord. The house is dark, and all the servants have been instructed to stay quiet and in their rooms.”
His valet brought his dressing robe, and Roland donned it. “Is he entering the parlor again?”
“He is dawdling under that window, my lord. Are you certain you do not want to call the magistrate?”
“Quite certain.”
“The Bow Street Runners?”
“Not yet, Quinnell. Last time he was here, he took that Egyptian pendant, the one from the Middle Kingdom. I want to see if that was luck or if this thief knows what he is about.”
“Of course, my lord.” The butler stood straight as an arrow, his black hair swept back from his forehead. With his long nose, Quinnell had always struck Roland as looking rather like a crow.
“Slippers,” he told his valet. The valet brought them, and in a few moments, Roland was making his way soundlessly downstairs toward the parlor. He heard a faint thud and knew the thief had entered. How very exciting. The door had been left open just a crack, and he took his place now and peered inside.
To his surprise, the thief was not a boy at all, but a girl. It was easy to see why he’d made that mistake. She wore male clothing, but he could see the tail of her hair and the silhouette of slight curves.
She stood by the window she’d come in and silently lowered the pack she carried on her back to the carpeted floor then crouched to feel inside. A moment later she produced a long, flat piece of metal. Roland wondered what it might be. It looked rather deadly, and he hoped he hadn’t been mistaken and the thief was actually a murderer.
She inserted the tool into a loop on her black trousers and moved around the perimeter of the room. She was in no hurry. She obviously thought he was out and would not return until the wee hours of the morning. It was barely midnight now. Still, she was silent. She moved like a shadow across the room, and Roland was impressed.
She stopped in front of a vase on a pedestal and studied it. Roland held his breath. It was valuable but she had to realize it would be hard to transport without breaking. She seemed to decide against the paintings on the walls as well as she gave them only a cursory glance. Or perhaps she did not know much about art and didn’t realize their value. The thief moved to a glass display case with a variety of perfume bottles and pieces of jewelry. She pulled the metal piece from the loop and jammed it between the crack in the door. Roland winced at the damage that would do but watched with interest as she gave the tool a swift upward thrust. The cabinet lock sprang free, and the glass door swung silently open.
She admired several of the pieces then closed the door again. Roland was surprised. He had been certain she would take a piece from the cabinet. Why else would she open it? It amazed him she didn’t just empty the entire contents into her sack. Why didn’t she take it all?
She crossed to his bookshelf where several books were laid out. She ignored those standing upright and lifted at those lying flat. Could she read? She lifted one book, opened it to reveal an illustrated page, then nodded and continued her perusal. Finally, she tucked a book in her sack and then glanced back at the jewelry. Roland could almost hear her weighing the risks and benefits. Jewelry was hard to pawn. Anyone who knew the real value of the piece would ask too many questions. But she could pawn a piece to someone who didn’t know the value for pocket change. The thought appalled him, but then he’d often found treasure among junk.
She glanced out the window, and Roland almost moved forward to show himself. He didn’t want her leaving yet. But then she started back across the room. She eased the display case door open again and reached for one of the rings, her hand hesitating as she debated between two rings.
This was his chance. Roland eased the oiled door open and stepped into the parlor. Slowly, she turned her head to the side and met his gaze. Her face showed a moment of shock, but her hand held steady.
“Ye must be the viscount,” she said, her accent making an absolute wreck of the English language. But she hadn’t screamed or fought or ran. She stood there as though his appearance was not unexpected.
“Which will you choose?” he asked, trying to sound less interested than he was. She looked momentarily confused, so he clarified. “The rings.”
“The signet ring,” she said, lowering her finger to stroke it.
“Not the ruby?”
“It’s right fetching,” she said, “but the signet ring is worth more.”
“Right you are,” he said. “Clever girl. Quinnell, check her rucksack, will you?”
The door opened further to admit Quinnell, who set a lamp on the table. In the light, Roland could see her more clearly. She was barely more than a child. He would eat the ring she was eyeing if she’d yet reached twenty. She was pretty in a rough sort of way. She had pale gray eyes and dark hair. She was just a bit shorter than average and slim of build. He looked into her eyes again. They were hard as flint, and he felt them assessing him.
Quinnell walked across the room, lifted the sack she’d left by the window and pulled out the book. And still the thief didn’t move, hand still poised above the signet ring, though it shook slightly now.
“It’s the Gutenberg, my lord.”
Roland gave her an approving look. “Very clever girl.”
The thief looked from him to Quinnell, obviously unhappy to have her escape routes blocked. “I suppose ye’ll call the magistrate now,” she said.
“That would be a waste.”
She stared at him, brows lowering. “Then I can go?”
“That would also be a waste.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I have a better idea.”
“I’m not taking me clothes off,” she said, stepping back from the display case.
He jerked back in shock. The very idea! “Why would I want you to disrobe? This is purely a business meeting. Quinnell, would you bring tea? And sandwiches as well, I think. You’re hungry, I take it?”
“Ye think I’ll let ye roger me for a sandwich?”
He sat in his favorite chair, which was upholstered in gold and royal blue fabric, and crossed his legs. He was careful to move slowly so as not to startle her. She was like a bird. Ready to fly away at the slightest sound. “I don’t want to roger you. No offense. I’m sure under that dirt you’re a pretty girl, but I’m more interested in your mind, you see. Why did you take the book and not, say, the vase? It’s from the Han dynasty and very valuable.”