Dukes and Diamonds E-Book

Lauren Smith

• Herausgeber: Lauren Smith
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Victorian Jewel
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 401

Beschreibung

Diamonds are a duke’s best friend…

When the infamously cold-hearted Duke of Helston decides to catch a gang of jewel thieves stealing from London’s elite circles, he never expects the thief to be a woman.

She’s not just any woman either…she happens to be the bewitching creature he met in the darkened corridor during a musicale who changed his life forever.

What’s a duke to do when he wants to catch a thief who not only stole his family diamond, but also his heart?

Leseprobe

Dukes and Diamonds

Victorian Jewels

Book 1

Lauren Smith

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Tempting the Footman

Tempting the Footman

About the Author

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2024 by Lauren Smith

Cover art by EDH Professionals

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-962760-37-9 (e-book edition)

ISBN: 978-1-962760-38-6 (print edition)

Prologue

London, England – 1876

Rain soaked the cobblestones, chasing away most of the usual market crowds that would have filled the streets and provided Tabitha Sherborne with prey. She lingered in the alley, clutching the lapels of her masculine coat about her neck, and pulled her flat cap down over her eyes. Drops of water drizzled from the brim of her cap, making it even harder to see through the downpour. Though she wore a dress underneath, her hat and coat gave her the appearance of a young man, which helped deter attention from her on days like today when she needed to be ignored.

A clap of thunder deafened her ears, and she watched the street entertainers scramble for cover beneath the narrow doorways of nearby shops. A few peddlers braved the weather, calling out for the rare passersby to have their kitchen knives sharpened or pots and pans mended. On days like these, everyone in the marketplace lost a chance to feed their families. Rain like this chased away all but the most determined customers.

A handful of young children clutched baskets of drenched lavender and violets, their sad little figures tugging at Tabitha’s heart. Only the vegetable sellers and fishmongers seemed to survive in this weather.

As Tabitha continued her vigilance on the street through the falling rain, she spied a tall gentleman with a cane. He strolled down the street, his hat tipped to shield his face from the wind and rain. The fine quality of his coat and boots caught her attention. He paused, reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat to check the time. The glint of a silver pocket watch was what she’d been hoping to see. She slipped out of the alley and trailed him. It would be harder in this weather to accomplish her mission, but she had to eat, and this was the only way.

She moved from one shop doorway to another and was careful not to stare at the man. Instead, she kept him in her peripheral view while she examined a set of gentlemen’s trilby hats on display in the windows in front of her. When the man stopped to speak to a young lad selling newspapers, Tabitha joined him. She pretended to wait in line for a newspaper as well.

With practiced ease, she leaned past him to take a paper from the boy. In the same swift move, she lifted her palm up and slid it into his pocket, plucking the watch out and tucking it into her own pocket. The man had only recently checked the time, so he wasn’t likely to check again for perhaps another half hour. She would be long gone when he discovered the theft.

With the watch secure in her pocket, she winked at the boy selling playbills and walked away. One never ran. She stopped by one of the little girls selling violets. Tabitha dropped a coin into the girl’s palm, then removed her cap and placed it on the child’s head to keep the girl a little drier. The child rubbed her red nose with a little fist and murmured a shy, “Thank you.” She couldn’t have been more than six. Something tugged at Tabitha’s chest, but she could do no more for her than that single coin and the hat. She herself had nothing to survive on. What could she do for a child who was even worse off?

The rain relented by the time Tabitha turned the corner and passed by a bountiful stand of flowers on a wheeled cart. A beautiful blonde woman in a bright sapphire-blue walking dress stood by the flower stand admiring the freshly cut blooms. Her dress trimmed with a delicate rose fringe that lined the trailing bustle and the billowing bows that cascaded down the full back of the skirt, and those skirts were carefully lifted by a strap wrapped around her wrist that kept the lovely train from dragging on the wet ground. She wore red-tipped walking boots that peeped out from the front of her skirts.

The elegant picture she painted in front of the cart of blooming flowers was stunning. Tabitha didn’t often see women like her out on the streets in this kind of weather and certainly never alone.

She spoke with the woman selling the fresh bouquets of flowers. The woman in the blue gown was a fine lady, born into a life with no struggle or suffering. Her skin was pale with a hint of a blush, and her hair was coiffed beneath the jauntily perched little hat. Tabitha searched for any signs of jewelry on the woman, but she wore no rings, necklaces, or any other finery that could be pinched.

Blast!

When the lady turned toward Tabitha, her basket tumbled from her arms and the flowers spilled to the ground in a colorful, beautiful mess.

“Oh no!” the woman cried in dismay. Responding instinctively to the stricken look on her face, Tabitha dove for the flowers and tried to retrieve them. She’d felt strangely compelled to help her, but pretty ladies were always like that, weren’t they? They looked so helpless and kitten-like, and it was no wonder men were always bowing and scraping to please them and take care of them. Tabitha couldn’t imagine a man ever doing that for her. A sudden pang of longing struck her so hard that she blinked away burning tears in her eyes. What would it be like to live that kind of life?

Something in the lady’s eyes had said these flowers mattered to her beyond a pretty centerpiece. The woman blushed. “Thank you.”

Tabitha finished placing the flowers in the other woman’s basket.

“Truly, thank you. I was planning to take these to my ailing mother,” she confessed. “Flowers are the only thing that makes her smile these days.”

“It’s no trouble,” Tabitha replied. She was still in awe of the fine lady. They were of a similar age, although she guessed this woman might be a year or two older than Tabitha’s twenty years. Tabitha had none of her polish or elegant glamour, yet the kindness in the woman’s face drew Tabitha’s sympathy rather than her jealousy.

She straightened and politely nodded at the woman before Tabitha rushed away. She couldn’t stay in this part of town for long. She was so quick to escape that she bumped into a pair of roughly dressed men near a newsstand, and they cursed at her.

By the time she reached the area near Covent Garden, she felt secure enough to check on her prize. She dug her hand into her pocket, expecting to feel the cool touch of silver, but her fingers found only empty air. Tabitha searched deeper but still found nothing. She checked the lining for holes, then finally searched her other pocket, where her fingers closed around a scrap of paper. When she pulled it out, she noticed the emblem of a little bird. A robin, by the looks of it. She turned the paper over and found a handwritten note on the back:

Nicely done. We are impressed. To retrieve your item, visit us at two o’clock in the afternoon.

An address was printed neatly below.

“What the devil?” Tabitha scowled and glanced around. Someone had stolen her purloined watch. Or rather, more than one person, as the note had said “we.” She hadn’t felt a thing. Was she getting slow? It did happen to pickpockets occasionally as they got older. As she replayed the moments after taking the watch, she realized it must have been those two men she’d bumped into after helping that young woman with her flowers. Her empty stomach rumbled at the thought. If she didn’t go to the meeting these people had arranged, it was possible she wouldn’t have any luck pinching an item to sell before it grew dark. That meant she wouldn’t be able to eat a real meal today.

It was a little over an hour before the meeting time specified on the card. She removed her coin purse and counted her money as she considered what to do. She could afford a penny loaf and a cup of coffee at a stall, but nothing more until she could get that watch back and fence it. She continued to debate her choices as she bought her bread and coffee. Then she settled on a portico to eat. Her belly was grateful, but she would be hungry again in a few hours.

She studied the address again and scoffed. It was a home near Grosvenor Square. That was where the rich toffs lived. Lord, what was she going to do? It was common enough for men of all classes to lure women into traps for forced prostitution—or worse. Thinking it over, Tabitha decided to go early and observe the house discreetly. See what she thought of it before meeting up with these “robin” fellows.

When she reached Upper Grosvenor Street and spotted the fancy townhouse from address on the card, she kept her distance. She lingered in the park square, pretending to take in the air now that much of the storm clouds had moved on. She couldn’t see anyone coming or going out of the house.

I can leave now, or I can risk it for the watch . . .

Her stomach’s needs eventually won out over her sense of self-preservation, and she finally crossed the street and rapped the silver knocker. She was a quarter of an hour early, but perhaps that would give her an advantage.

A butler answered. He was a tall man in his fifties with a distinguished look and a fine beard. Exactly the sort of man she expected to greet her.

“Yes?” It sounded like a challenge to prove she belonged on his doorstep. He stared down his nose at her pompously. It took her a moment to not let his tone or demeanor rankle her.

Tabitha held up the card she’d found in her pocket. “I have an appointment.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was told to expect a young lady.” His gaze roved over her drab gray woolen dress and tattered coat, soaked hair, and fingerless gloves.

“A lady, eh?” She snorted at his joke, but he didn’t crack a smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, sir.” She bobbed a sarcastic curtsy.

“This way, Miss . . .” He paused when he failed to have a name to address her with.

She laughed. “Oh, you’re a clever one, you are. I won’t be giving you my name, not so you can track me down and throw me in Newgate.”

“I was not told to do any such thing, miss.” He sounded as if she’d deeply offended him.

She followed the butler inside, and her eyes widened. Just beyond the door, a large hallstand with a mirror stood ready to hold coats and umbrellas. Tabitha caught a glimpse of her own appearance in that mirror and frowned at the drowned rat staring back at her. She carefully walked around the center table full of blooming flowers and glanced up at the glittering chandelier over her head.

This was a beautiful home. More beautiful than any she’d ever seen in her life. She’d never imagined people could actually live in houses like this. Tabitha shared a cramped attic space with half a dozen other girls in an old warehouse by the docks.

“The parlor is this way.” The butler opened a door down the hall for her and ushered her inside. The parlor was a high-ceilinged room with bright blue-and-orange flower-patterned wallpaper that lent the room the feeling of an endless summer. It drew a smile to her lips before she could stop herself. If she lived in a place that had a room like this, she’d never want to leave. Sumptuous carpets covered the floor, and Tabitha was glad she’d wiped her boots before coming inside. Several portraits of distinguished lords and ladies hung over a writing desk full of papers and letters.

The fireplace was surrounded by towering bookshelves, each filled to the brim with books. She’d learned to read long ago and had vowed to never let that skill lapse. Her father had told her that a woman who could read had the world at her fingertips. Old memories, ones she kept close to her heart to relive whenever a deep pain threatened to surface.

She turned her attention to a display case in one corner of the room, which was filled with silvery objects that would be worth a fortune if she could sell them. She deliberately turned her focus away from temptation and studied the rest of the room.

There were two settees and a tea table arranged artfully near the fireplace. Despite the room’s size, it felt cozy, like the set of rooms she and her father had lived before he’d died. The wallpaper had been peeling at the edges and the furniture worn and dusty, but it had been cozy like this. Again, her heart stuttered in a painful off beat.

“Please wait here.” The butler’s words broke her free of the past. He stepped into the corridor and closed the door, leaving her alone. Tabitha examined the room again before approaching the display case. Decorative trinkets, silver bowls, sculptures, and other things that looked heavy and expensive called to the thief within her. Her hands itched to touch, but she didn’t dare. She did remove a letter opener from the nearby desk and slipped it into her pocket, in case she needed to defend herself. If the men who had summoned her here had any ideas about grabbing her, they’d get a nice little poke in the gut.

When the door to the parlor opened again, Tabitha gasped as a woman stepped inside. It wasn’t just any woman. It was the one who had dropped all those lovely flowers at the market. The woman turned and closed the door behind her, her beautiful bustled blue skirts whispering over the carpets as she moved. Despite the voluminous fabric of the gown trailing behind her, she moved easily. Tabitha envied her careless grace that such ladies seemed to be born with. Tabitha might have the nimble moves of a thief, but she had no grace.

The woman smiled at her warmly. “Thank you for coming. I’m Hannah Winslow.” She held out her hand to shake as though they were gentlemen at a club meeting for the first time.

Strangely, Tabitha liked the woman’s frank, forward nature, but she couldn’t afford to forget the potential danger. This woman had distracted her once, and she couldn’t let that happen again.

“Where are they?” Tabitha demanded as she ignored the woman’s offered hand.

“Who?” Hannah asked, her hazel eyes wide with confusion.

“The men who pinched my watch.”

“You mean the watch you pinched first?” Hannah asked politely.

“Yes.” Tabitha kept her eye on the parlor door. Any moment those men would come in here and . . . do whatever they planned to do.

“There were no men. Only me . . . and Julia, of course.” The door opened and another woman entered as if she’d heard her name called.

“Sorry I’m late, Hannah—oh, she’s here!” This new woman, Julia, paused in the act of unpinning her hat from her russet hair, and her warm brown eyes swept curiously over Tabitha.

“She’s early,” Julia observed as she set her hat down on a side table and smoothed her hands over her burgundy velvet walking dress. It was rich with embroidered patterns of robins, just like the emblem on the card.

“Yes, it seems she is,” Hannah said with an amused chuckle. “This is my friend, Julia Starling.”

Tabitha stared at the two women, utterly confused. Where were the pickpockets who’d taken her watch?

Julia slipped a hand into a hidden gown pocket at her hip and pulled out the silver pocket watch. It dangled in the air beneath her hand, spinning slowly in circles, the light glinting off its etched surface.

“How did you get that?” Tabitha demanded.

“The same way you did. I stole it.” Julia’s brown eyes lit with mischief.

“But—” Tabitha couldn’t believe it. A fine lady had pinched the watch from her? She tensed when the parlor door opened again, but it was only a maid carrying a tea tray.

“Please sit, Miss . . . Oh dear, we still don’t know your name.” Hannah gestured toward one of the two couches by the fireplace.

Tabitha hesitated. She didn’t trust these women, but this wasn’t the danger she had expected to face.

“Please, we don’t mean you any harm. We won’t be calling the authorities. We invited you here to ask you something.”

“Then go on and ask,” Tabitha said.

“Would you sit and have some tea first?” Hannah offered.

Tabitha reluctantly lowered herself onto one of the two couches. Her empty stomach gnawed at her, but she wasn’t going to let them know just how desperate she was. The two odd ladies sat opposite her, and Hannah poured tea for the three of them. Tabitha took the offered cup hesitantly, but when she caught a whiff of its aroma, she sighed with pleasure. Real tea. How long had it been since she’d tasted that?

“We saw you lift that pocket watch,” Julia began as she handed the timepiece over to Tabitha. Tabitha snatched it and tucked it away in her pocket. “We were quite impressed.”

“We were,” Hannah agreed. “That brings us to why we invited you here.”

Tabitha held her cup and waited for whatever bad news was to be delivered.

“We are on a mission to help those less fortunate. We want to do more, but even as well off as we are, we need a way to supplement our causes.”

“That’s where you come in.” Julia grinned.

“I don’t understand,” Tabitha said. “How can I possibly fit in?” She took a hasty sip of her tea, anything to get something in her stomach. “Surely you fine ladies don’t need a resident thief.”

The two women exchanged glances, and then Hannah leaned forward. “That’s exactly what we need.”

Tabitha choked on her next sip of tea. “You’re joking.”

“We certainly aren’t,” Julia said. “We want you to continue to ply your trade.”

“You want me to steal for you?” Tabitha asked, slowly voicing the question to make sure she’d heard them correctly.

“More like with us. We stole your watch, after all. We aren’t without skills,” Julia reminded her with a grin. “But we need a third person to do this properly. We need someone who understands the city and its streets in ways that we do not if we’re going to pull off bigger heists than mere pocket watches.”

Tabitha’s head was spinning. “Heists?”

“Oh yes,” said Hannah. “We have a target in mind, and it is my opinion that we need two people to distract the target and a third person to retrieve the jewels.”

These women were mad, surely, Tabitha thought.

“You plan on stealing from a jeweler or⁠—?”

“No, that’s the best part. We only intend to steal from those who are . . . well . . . undeserving of them,” Hannah said.

“What she means is someone bad, or otherwise quite terrible.”

“Right . . . ,” Tabitha drawled. “You want to steal from the rich⁠—”

“Only the terrible ones, yes, and give to the poor.” Julia passed over a card, one similar to the kind that they had put in her pocket.

“We call ourselves the Merry Robins. You see, our emblem is a robin.” She pointed to the bird that was drawn on the card.

Tabitha inwardly groaned. The Merry Robins? Like Robin Hood? These women thought they were like the old English legend of the man who’d robbed from the rich to give to the poor. They couldn’t be that naïve, could they? Surely they realized how silly that was.

“And where does the money go from the items you sell?” she asked. “You said the less fortunate, but I expect you don’t intend to drop a bag of coins on people’s doorsteps, do you?”

“Of course not.” Hannah got up and went to her desk to retrieve a written list. “These are the orphanages, workhouses, soup kitchens, and other places that desperately need help. Even those in debtors’ prison need assistance for the sake of their families. The charities we have on our list are run by good people. They do not embezzle money they receive or do anything that we consider immoral. But they also do not receive enough support from society to be as effective as they could be.”

Tabitha still couldn’t understand why these two women, who seemed to have everything, would care for those who had nothing. It made no sense.

“Why?” Tabitha asked. “Why care? You have your pretty palaces and your pretty gowns, and all that’s ever expected of you is to attend teas and balls. You don’t have to care about any of this.”

For the first time, Tabitha saw a crack form in the politeness of the two women. Hannah’s kind eyes turned hard as steel.

“Because we can help. Women and children are the ones who suffer the most when there is inequity in the world. I am tired of letting men make our gender victims, and I’m tired of seeing children starve on the streets. Have you ever seen the tide at the waterfront?”

Tabitha shook her head. The docks were a dangerous place to be, especially for a woman, no matter the time of day.

“When boats are stuck in the mud during a low tide, they can’t do what they are meant to . . . which is sail upon the water. When a tide comes in,” Julia explained, “it rises everywhere along the shore. As it does, it lifts every single boat floating nearby. That tide lifts everything. What if we became the tide? What if we lifted up our fellow humans? More food in their bellies, less moth-eaten clothing, more chances to find a home with shelter for the winter months. The more hope someone receives, the more they are lifted, you see. And when lifted by hope . . . they can find their way to sailing again.”

The fine hairs on Tabitha’s arms rose. These two women actually believed. And what was more, Tabitha started to as well. She began to imagine what good they could actually do. No more children selling wilted violets and lavender on the street. No more boys chasing carriages in the dark, begging gentlemen to buy newspapers. No more bodies frozen on the pavement, no more crying babies who had no milk, no more pain and suffering.

“Is a world like that even possible?” she asked aloud, even though she hadn’t meant to.

“Our world will never be perfect, and it will be a fight every day. But wouldn’t you rather put your head on your pillow at night and sleep better knowing that you were a part of that fight?”

Tabitha was quiet a long moment as she considered what joining these women could mean, not just for herself but for others.

“Let’s say that I agree. Who would we steal from first? And what would we be stealing?”

Hannah beamed at her. “Well, I believe we should practice a bit first before we hit our primary targets, but the man that we eventually plan to steal from is a particularly rude and arrogant duke who has far too many diamonds . . .”

ChapterOne

The string of burglaries in Grosvenor Square and Mayfair have left authorities baffled. No suspects have been identified. The latest victim is Lady Ashburg, who had an emerald necklace stolen during a garden party at her home last Sunday. Scotland Yard has interviewed every guest and servant present at the time of the theft. Yet no arrests have been made. Rewards are being offered for any information as to the identity of the thief and the location of the jewels.

—Illustrated Police News, September 1876

Fitzwilliam Seagrave, the Duke of Helston, or Fitz, as his friends and family insisted upon calling him, folded up the illustrated newspaper that sat on his lap and frowned. The paper contained sensational, garish reports on crime and punishment in England. He set it on the reading table in front of him and sipped his brandy thoughtfully as he examined the frontpage illustration. It depicted a man in black clothing wearing a mask and gloves as he crept behind a beautiful young woman whose neck was bedecked with a large, jeweled necklace.

“Jewel thieves . . . Honestly, don’t the poor wretches have anything better to do with their time than take things they have no right to?” he muttered to himself. For the last several months, the Police News and other papers had been carrying the story of the jewelry thefts as though it was a matter of national concern. As if a veritable wave of crime was crashing upon England’s shores.

He stared around vacant chairs in Berkley’s, his gentlemen’s club. The reading room was usually empty this time of night. He was alone except for an elderly man asleep by the fireplace halfway between Fitz and the door. Most of the men were in the cardroom or the dining room at this time of night.

Normally, he would have been in the midst of that crowd, throwing himself into games of risk, but they had begun to bore him of late. The usual amusements he relied on had lost their appeal. He was too good at choosing the right horses at the derby, it was too easy to take a woman to his bed, and he had exhausted the pockets of most of the men in the cardroom one floor below.

Fitz studied the portraits of past members on the wall. Nearly sixty years ago, life in England had been vastly different. There had been no industry, fewer mills to turn the northern cities white with cotton from the factories, or coal turning the industrial cities black with soot. The men on these walls had never known the hum of gaslights, the rattle of trains, or the feeling of a steam engine in a ship that could power across the water faster than any sail.

Yet Fitz had the sense that the men who graced these canvases had seen and done much in their lives, whereas he had not. It was strange to think that in a world of invention and industry, his life was far less adventurous than the men who’d lived in the past.

A door crashed open at the far end of the quiet reading room, and a tall man slipped inside. His entry disturbed the older member asleep by the fireplace, who awoke with a muffled grunt and cursed at the interloper.

“What in the blazes? Watch the bloody door!” the man growled, his graying mustache twitching as his eyes searched the face of the newcomer. The man who had caused the ruckus was a familiar and welcome sight to Fitz.

“Evan, over here,” he called out. The man spotted him and strode over, thunder brewing in his eyes. He slapped his own copy of the Police News down on the table in front of Fitz.

“Have you seen this?” Evan planted a finger on the article that Fitz had just been reading.

“Yes, quite unfortunate business, that.”

Evan Haddon, the Earl of Brightstone, was one of his dearest friends. Evan’s jet-black hair was slightly mussed, as if he was always dragging his hands through it. Given their long history of friendship, Fitz could tell when his friend was furious, though he was doing his best to hide it.

“Unfortunate business? Fitz, these thieves are a menace. My cousin, Lady Alice, had her diamond earbobs pinched in the middle of a bloody ball.”

“You’re sure she didn’t leave them at home in a jewel safe, or perhaps misplaced them?” Fitz inquired. It wouldn’t be the first time Lady Alice had had a complaint to make. Despite her beauty, she was not the most pleasant woman.

“No. Good God, man. They came right off her ears during a dance somehow. Everyone searched the floor after she realized they were missing, but no one found them.”

Fitz pictured Evan’s pretty cousin dancing, and in the midst of a twirl, he imagined seeing a pair of black-gloved hands plucking her earrings clear off. Fitz suddenly laughed.

“It isn’t amusing, Fitz. This is serious business. These thieves left a calling card like street magicians. Alice found this tucked down the back of her evening gown.” Evan threw himself down in a chair beside Fitz and tossed a card on the table.

“A calling card?” Fitz was roused from his state of ennui. “Color me intrigued. The papers made no mention of such a detail.”

“They wouldn’t. It would encourage other gangs of thieves to do the same. Cards would start showing up all over London,” Evan predicted, his fury turning to glum resignation. “What’s next? We’ll see a calling card sitting where the crown jewels used to in the tower of London?”

“Let me see that.” Fitz leaned forward and took the card from where it lay next to Evan’s hand.

“The card says, ‘The Merry Robins,’ and there’s a little stamp of a bird. A card is left at the scene of each theft. That’s what the detective from Scotland Yard told Alice when she filed her police report.”

Fitz turned the card over, brushing his thumb over the emblem of the little robin. “Interesting.” He was more than a little curious now about these thieves, given that they had robbed Evan’s cousin of her jewelry. Wouldn’t it be fun if he solved the mystery and caught these men? The thought spurred a fire in him that hadn’t been there in a long time.

“More like infuriating. Someone needs to catch these bastards.”

“The Merry Robins . . . You know who that reminds me of?” Fitz said softly, fighting off a smile. His and Evan’s eyes met, and his friend’s eyes widened with shock.

“You don’t think . . .” Evan sat up, his face darkening. “Surely not. Beck retired from this sort of thing ages ago.”

“I thought he had too, but he might know who these Merry Robins are.” Fitz had a feeling Beck would know these men, or know how to find them, and the thrilling prospect of catching these thieves put him in the mood to act at once.

“Perhaps we ought to pay a call on our old friend,” Evan agreed. “I swear, if he has Alice’s earbobs . . .”

“Then I’m sure he will politely return them to you,” Fitz said with confidence.

Evan checked his pocket watch. “It’s nine thirty. Where do you suppose he would be?”

“Likely at the card tables.” Fitz stood and Evan followed him out of the reading room. They descended a square-shaped staircase the cardroom one floor below. Cigar smoke formed a thick cloud above their heads, and the sounds of men wagering and cards fluttering filled the room as games were played. Fortunes had been won and lost in this room over the years.

It took a moment to find their boyhood friend, Walter Beckley, or Beck, as they called him. He was at a whist table with three other gentlemen. He and his partner had just finished a hand when he glanced up to see Fitz and Evan watching him. He calmly collected his half of the winnings, shook his partner’s hand, and stood. Like Evan and Fitz, Beck stood over six feet tall and was handsome as the devil himself, which had always brought trouble in their younger days. His charming smile disarmed everyone he met.

Beck skirted around the table and gave his friends an inquiring look. Fitz returned the look with a tilt of his head toward an empty gaming table. The three of them crossed the room and seated themselves at the table where they could speak more freely without fear of being overheard or disturbed.

“Haven’t seen either of you in a while,” Beck mused. He placed his winnings into a leather trifold wallet and then tucked the wallet deep into his breast pocket.

Fitz felt the dig of his friend’s words a little too deeply. It was true he had not spent much time with Beck in the last year. They’d nodded at each other in passing when in the club or out at social gatherings, but the long nights of talking over glasses of brandy and playing billiards or cards had fallen by the wayside for them all recently. Fitz realized he’d missed both of his friends more than he wanted to admit.

“I had affairs in Edinburgh most of this year. Business.” Fitz had been seeing to his newly acquired book publishing company to make sure everything was running smoothly. It had demanded much of his time to get the offices and the employees up to scratch.

Evan shrugged. “Sorry, Beck. I was busy with an affair of a different sort, one who has since moved on to greener pastures.”

Fitz frowned. “Lord Fairton’s widow?”

A nod. “She left me for Lord Woolsey when I refused to buy her a bigger townhouse.”

Beck snorted and pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. “I see not much has changed after all. So, what is the reason for this call between old friends?”

Evan gave Fitz a nudge with his elbow. “You ask him.”

“Oh dear, Evan is too embarrassed to ask it himself? Whatever it is must be dire. Just ask me,” Beck replied, clearly amused by Evan’s discomfort.

“You heard of the recent jewel thefts?” Fitz asked.

Beck nodded, his gray eyes dimming a little, his amusement fading. “I have. What of them?”

“It has nothing to do with you, has it?” Evan asked. “These Merry Robin fellows?”

Beck puffed out a breath of cigar smoke and then calmly snubbed the tip in an ashtray. He glared at Evan as if his smoking had been completely ruined.

“I meant no offense, Beck.” Evan’s tone was sincere. “You’re the only thief we know.”

“Former thief,” Beck emphasized.

“Yes,” Evan echoed. “Former.”

Beck raised a brow. “You assume it has something to do with me simply because I used to steal shiny, pretty things?”

“We made no such assumption,” Fitz hedged carefully. “We merely thought you might have an idea as to who these fellows are, seeing as how they might run in your old circles.”

“And if I did, what does it matter?” Beck asked. “Neither of you are listed as victims, at least according to the papers.”

“Well, poor Evan’s cousin would like her diamond earrings back. And me? I’d like to catch these thieves. I have been so bored of late, and these Merry Robins have been running circles around the Yard. Wouldn’t it be fun to hand them over to Scotland Yard and see the faces on those clueless detectives?” The more Fitz thought about it, the more he wanted to do exactly that. He wanted to catch a thief.

Beck gazed at Fitz a long moment and then slowly leaned forward. He smiled that charming smile that had distracted many a woman, and more than a few men, as he parted them from their jewels or money without them being any the wiser.

“It’s no use hoping to track them down the way a proper detective would,” he confided. “You’re simply not equipped for it. No offense, you are both bright men, but it’s not something one does on a lark. Have you read Criminal Man? Have you studied criminal anthropology?” He saw the dejection on their faces and then added, “For you, a different approach is required. If you want to catch a thief, you’ll need to set a trap. Something big, something irresistible.”

“Such as?” Evan asked.

Beck was still staring at Fitz, and Fitz realized suddenly what his friend was thinking.

“You can’t mean . . . ,” Fitz began.

Beck met his gaze. “Oh yes.”

“But my grandmother hardly lets that diamond out of her sight. It’s not even my diamond yet,” Fitz protested.

The jewel in question was the Helston Diamond, a massive gem that could be inserted into a tiara by affixing it to a cleverly placed silver setting in the center. The tiara was a beautiful piece made of a graduated line of cushion-shaped and old-cut diamond clusters alternating with diamond-set scroll motifs. It had been in the family for more than a century, and it was meant to be a wedding gift from Fitz’s grandmother for Fitz to give his bride whenever he married.

“We can’t use that, Beck,” Fitz argued.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained, old friend,” Beck replied. “If you want these thieves, hold that diamond out as bait and make the task of taking it appear deceptively easy.”

“Does this mean you’ll help us?” Evan asked.

“Do you want me to help you catch this thief?” Beck asked in return, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Yes,” Fitz said honestly. “It will be like old times. The three of us up to our old nonsense.”

“Very well.” Beck smiled somewhat sadly, as though the mention of their past brought a bittersweet fondness to his heart. “Come closer. Now, here is what we must do . . .”

* * *

Julia waved three invitations in her hand. “We have our way in!”

Tabitha looked up from the newspaper she’d been reading. Hannah paused in her letter writing at the nearby desk. They had been resting in Hannah’s parlor after dinner while Julia had been at her parents’ home for dinner. Julia didn’t live at Hannah’s residence but she spent nearly half her time there rather than at her own home. She was one of the few ladies of her status who traipsed about London without a chaperone and yet her parents didn’t seem to mind. They were a loving, indulgent couple that Tabitha had taken a liking to instantly when she’d first met them.

Hannah chuckled. “Dare I ask what you’ve gotten us into?”

“It is a legitimate invite, I assure you. My aunt is a friend of the Dowager Duchess of Helston. The three of us are attending a musicale this evening at the duke’s home.” Julia flashed the invitations in the air with a cheeky grin.

Tabitha almost smiled. Today, like most days, seemed like a wonderful sort of dream. She had moved into Hannah’s townhouse shortly after that fateful encounter in the marketplace.

She had placed her trust in Hannah and Julia, and so far, she’d not come to regret that decision. Over the past six months, they had transformed her life from a street pickpocket to a gentle lady.

But what mattered more was that they had held true to their promise. She had helped them steal more than twenty pieces of jewelry, and every piece had been sold, with all of the proceeds given to those in need. Orphans, war veterans, single mothers, and widows fallen on hard times. She’d gone with them to deliver the funds to the very relieved and grateful people who ran the charities.

The children selling flowers now had new coats, pants, and dresses. They also had hats, mittens and gloves. She knew those children would continue to sell things on the street to support their families, but if she could keep them warm, keep them fed . . . that was enough for now. In the meantime, she was working on a better solution to keep those children from being on the streets in the first place.

Their secret work was on everyone’s lips, it seemed, and the whisper of the Merry Robins brought a smile to Tabitha each time she heard it ripple through the markets. It had become a beacon of hope for those who had so few things in life. If her father could have seen her sitting like a fine lady wearing a lovely gown while in a fancy parlor, drinking tea and knowing that she was the one to help these less fortunate people, he would have been proud of her. He would have loved to have seen her feeding the poor and helping teach children to read and write, just as he’d taught her. She spent most of her days visiting the charities they helped with the profits from the stolen jewels; a quiet afternoon like this was rare.

“What time is the musicale?” Tabitha asked Julia as the other woman draped herself gracefully onto a chair by the fire.

“Eight o’clock.”

“Eight! I must change at once!” Hannah leapt from her chair in a panic. Tabitha had only a moment to dive forward from her seat to catch the bottle of ink Hannah knocked over before it spilled all over Hannah’s letters. Tabitha’s quick reflexes often came in handy in such moments.

“You need not change your dress. You’re perfectly fine,” Julia argued and winked at Tabitha.

Since becoming a part of Hannah and Julia’s lives, she’d learned that Hannah, a young widow of only twenty-three, was always polite and perfectly dressed for every occasion. Julia, who was the same age, was almost Hannah’s opposite in every way. Julia was a headstrong, wild, risk taker compared to Hannah’s compassionate, gentle soul. They had been friends since they were young girls, and Tabitha envied their closeness. Their friendship had been built over years of trust. But luckily for Tabitha, they had been openhearted enough to let her into their circle of friendship and become a fellow Merry Robin.

“Tabby, do you wish to change too?” Hannah asked, using the nickname that they’d given her. Julia had said it was because Tabitha reminded her of a very brave and clever cat she’d once rescued from the streets. That cat was now an ancient, chubby, spoiled feline who rested in sunbeams and chased the occasional mouse. Once Tabitha had met the cat, she’d found it strangely endearing rather than annoying to be named after the old cat.

“I think I’ll be fine with this.” She waved at the blue-and-cream satin gown that she wore. They had only had dinner an hour ago, and she was dressed suitably for a musicale. More than once, she’d marveled at the change not only of her circumstances but of herself. The dirty-skinned, starving, thin-limbed young woman was gone.

Now she was a woman with softer curves from a healthy diet, and her once dull brown hair was lustrous. Her blue eyes seemed far brighter than they ever had been before. She wore clothing in the height of fashion, spoke like a fine lady, and walked as though she were on a bed of clouds.

But deep down, the fierce street urchin was still inside Tabitha. She felt she was fully of two worlds instead of one. It was not easy to feel like that, but she far preferred it to being trapped in the world she had been born into. She frequently had to face that she was becoming too complacent and accustomed to luxury. She often reminded herself that things could change at a moment’s notice if something happened to Hannah or Julia, and she could be back on the streets again.

“Come keep me company while I change,” Hannah said with a grin, and Tabitha agreed.

“I’ll collect a notebook. We’ll need to sketch Helston’s house to remember where everything is,” Julia called out to them while she searched Hannah’s desk.

Tabitha followed Hannah upstairs. Her friend paused as she always did in front of the portrait of her deceased husband, Mr. Jeremy Winslow. He had been a handsome young man, and his face held a deep kindness that always made Tabitha’s heart ache at the thought of him being gone. She would have liked to have met him.

Hannah kissed the tips of her fingers and touched the frame, then continued up the rest of the stairs. Hannah had only been married to Jeremy a few months before he perished in a railway accident. Julia said that Hannah and Jeremy had known each other for years and their marriage had been a true love match. It had been two years since he’d died, and Hannah, while still mourning him, had reemerged in society in the last year.

Over the past few months, Tabitha had grown protective of Hannah, just as Julia was. Hannah was too kind, too good to suffer such grief and loneliness. Tabitha had heard her weeping at night sometimes. The helpless feeling had left Tabitha guilt ridden, but how could she offer comfort to Hannah? What could she possibly give her friend to ease her pain? She’d seen her father mourn quietly at night the very same way after Tabitha’s mother had died. She had been too young to know what to do then, and now she felt too beaten by life herself.

As Hannah entered her bedchamber and her trusted maid Liza helped her change, Tabitha pressed her with questions about their intended target. She leaned against the bedpost as she listened to Hannah from behind the changing screen.

“This Lord Helston, what is he like?” They’d spoken of the infamous Helston Diamond as one of their most important gems to steal when they’d first met, but it seemed so far away then. Now they were finally ready to take on a true challenge. Stealing little earbobs, rings, and necklaces from women had proved easy enough, but the Duke of Helston would be a far different matter. The diamond they sought technically still belonged to his grandmother, the one hosting this evening’s musicale, but it would be his one day, as his grandmother intended it to be a gift for his future bride, and that had been enough for Julia and Hannah to put it on the list.

“Infuriating. Arrogant. He believes he knows everything better than anyone else. He wrecks the lives of others because he must always be right,” Hannah said, her tone icy. Liza huffed in agreement as she began to lace Hannah’s dress up in the back. Liza was loyal to a fault when it came to Hannah and helped the Merry Robins keep their secret. She’s grown up in a poor house as a child and knowing that her mistress was finding a way to help children who lived in such conditions like she did had further solidified her loyalty and silence as to the identifies of the Robins.

“I get the sense he must have done something specific, or are we pursuing him for being generally unpleasant?” Most of their targets had done terrible, cruel things, while others were simply horrible people who dismissed the suffering of others as the price one paid for a civilized society.

“Helston is a tad more personal than the others,” Hannah admitted as she came around the other side of the curtain.

She’d chosen her favorite silk reception dress made up of a dark-blue bodice and overskirt with a cream satin flower-embroidered pleated underskirt. Her deep square neckline was reminiscent of the fashion a century ago, with lace at the edges concealing her breasts enough to make the gown appropriate for a musicale, while still reminding any man present that she was young and beautiful, even though she was widowed. Not that Hannah ever seemed to think about gentlemen or marriage or her own beauty. She was far too modest for all of that.