My Gentleman Thief E-Book

Meredith Bond

• Herausgeber: Anessa Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Thalia Grace has a habit of flaunting Regency society—whether it be racing her horse against ungentlemanly earls or standing up to the arrogant lady patronesses of Almack’s. But after a handsome Greek artist comes to visit, she discovers her true calling—to follow in the footsteps of her archaeologist parents.
The talented Yiannis Istoriakis is passionate about Greek antiquities—he would do anything to ensure that they are treated with proper respect. But he never expected to become a thief…much less be so fascinated by the spirited woman he needs to become his accomplice.
As Thalia and Yiannis suffer through London’s social whirl while stealing priceless antiquities, they find that it’s their hearts that are in danger of being stolen.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Book Description

MY GENTLEMAN THIEF

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dear Reader,

Acknowledgments

About the Author

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Books By Meredith Bond

She was digging for happiness... when he stole her heart.

Thalia Grace has a habit of flaunting Regency society—whether it be racing her horse against ungentlemanly earls or standing up to the arrogant lady patronesses of Almack’s. But after a handsome Greek artist comes to visit, she discovers her true calling—to follow in the footsteps of her archaeologist parents.

The talented Yiannis Istoriakis is passionate about Greek antiquities—he would do anything to ensure that they are treated with proper respect. But he never expected to become a thief…much less be so fascinated by the spirited woman he needs to become his accomplice.

As Thalia and Yiannis suffer through London’s social whirl while stealing priceless antiquities, they find that it’s their hearts that are in danger of being stolen.

MY GENTLEMAN THIEF

Meredith Bond

Copyright January, 2017 Meredith Bond

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

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Published by Anessa Books, www.anessabooks.com

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Chapter One

March, 1821

The thundering of horses’ hooves grew fast—too fast—and Yiannis wasn’t watching. He was focused on crossing the boulevard to get to the small, residential lanes beyond. They looked much more promising than the uncertain streets he’d passed through, where men snored from alcoves reeking of gin, and women of questionable morals gave him sleepy come-hither looks. He hoped these quieter, cleaner streets heralded the end of this interminable journey.

A week to get to the port in Athens from the archaeological site where he and his father had been working, three weeks on board the ship from Greece, and then this brilliant idea of his to walk from the London docks to the home of Lord Pemberton-Howe, his final destination. He hadn’t realized just how big London was, nor how lost one could get in it. Luckily, it was early morning so the pick-pockets weren’t out yet. He couldn’t imagine walking some of these areas in the afternoon or evening. This neighborhood he was approaching looked much more affluent.

“Move, you bloody idiot!” The woman’s voice screamed from Yiannis’s left. He spun toward the voice but was too late. He stood frozen as a horse, at least sixteen hands tall, bore down on him. The animal reared, its forelegs coming within inches of Yiannis’s face.

As it came back down to earth, a large dray cart rumbled past in the other direction, taking up a good portion of the street.

Another horse galloped past, crossing between Yiannis and the edge of the road, barely three feet away. Yiannis’s hair ruffled with the breeze caused by the passing horse, it was going so fast.

“Ha, ha! Finally, you will lose,” the man on the galloping horse called out as he disappeared down the street.

“Oh, no you don’t,” the woman called after him. To Yiannis, she shouted, “Will you get out of the way?”

Yiannis hastily stepped to the side of the road, just catching a glimpse of a soft, rounded face, full, pink lips, and large eyes blazing with excitement. Were they green? He couldn’t quite tell from where he stood, but he wished he could get a closer look.

“Imbecile!” he could hear her growl as she spurred her horse forward once again, the dark material of her dress flapping behind her as she rode away.

Yiannis could only shake his head in wonder as the woman urged her horse into a full gallop, once more in pursuit of her competitor.

What sort of place was this? Women running races down major thoroughfares? Cursing at people?

He’d thought London to be a civilized place. He was quickly coming to realize that he’d had a lot of misconceptions regarding this city. He hoped his father wouldn’t be proven wrong in sending him to his friend, nor in Yiannis’s ability to carry out his instructions and the whole reason he was here in this strange country.

Thalia’s heart was pounding as she spurred Thunder into a gallop once more, but it had little to do with the race she was riding in and more to do with the man she’d nearly run over. She’d never in her life come so close to actually hitting anyone, and then for it to be the most handsome man she’d seen in years—dark with deep-set eyes you could drown in, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. She was sure there was much more to see, but that was all she’d had time to notice in the few seconds she’d had, while trying to control her horse.

The utter shock that had shown on his face hadn’t detracted from his masculine beauty at all. In fact, he’d hardly flinched under the threat of her horse’s hooves. It had seemed to Thalia that it was more the fact that a woman was riding neck for nothing down the street that caused his expression—at least that was the impression she’d gotten before the idiot finally had the wherewithal to remove himself from her path.

She couldn’t help but giggle as she rode down the street in Roddy’s wake. She looked over her shoulder; she just needed one more glimpse of that man. No, even better, she had to find out who he was. Oddly enough, he reminded her of some of the Greek men she’d met on her parents’ archaeological dig when she was growing up. She’d always watched those men while sitting hidden in a tree or behind a rock. They’d laugh and flirt with her sister, Laia, before their mother had died, and Thalia’s entire life had been destroyed.

No, it had to be her imagination. While there were a few Greeks in London, she’d met most of them, and there was no doubt that she would have remembered if she’d seen this man before.

Chapter Two

Yiannis expected the footman answering his knock at the home of Lord Pemberton-Howe to be more bleary-eyed than he was. After all, it wasn't much past eight in the morning. But the man looked like he’d been up for hours and welcomed Yiannis into the house with a cheerful smile, showing him into the drawing room.

“Lord Pemberton-Howe should be with you in a moment, sir, if you would have a seat?” the footman said, indicating the dark red-and-white striped sofa.

Yiannis gave him a nod and a smile before the fellow left, closing the door behind him.

Sounds of dishes clattering nearby and the scent of meat and coffee made Yiannis’s mouth water. The food on the ship had been barely palatable. His father had warned him that English food was bland and boring, but he’d be happy for anything fresh at this point.

It was a difficult, stomach-growling fifteen minutes before a white-haired man popped into the room. His coat and waistcoat hung open and a hastily tied neckcloth brushed his chin.

“Mr. Istoriakis! Yiannis, if I may,” the man said, coming in. A smile stretched across his well-worn face.

Yiannis stood. “My lord,” he presumed. He bowed.

“Yes, yes.” The gentleman waved away Yiannis’s formality and embraced him, kissing both his cheeks. “My God, I would never have recognized you. You were but a small lad when I last saw you.”

Yiannis laughed. “I wish I could say that I remember you, my lord, but…”

“No, no. I certainly don’t expect you to remember. Why, you were much too involved in your games—and what was it? Drawing, no?—to have any interest in the talk of two old archaeologists like your father and me.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I was always sketching something,” Yiannis admitted. “And little has changed since then.”

“I look forward to hearing all about it—and what brings you here to London. Please sit down. No, wait! You must come and join me for breakfast. Have you eaten yet?” his lordship said, taking a step back toward the door.

“I can’t say that I have, considering what they served on board the ship. To call it food would be entirely too generous,” Yiannis said, grateful for the invitation.

Lord Pemberton-Howe laughed. “Yes, it is awful what they get away with, isn’t it? Well, come, we’ll give you a proper breakfast.”

“Thank you. Oh, and my father sends you this.” Yiannis pulled out the letter of introduction that his father had sent with him, not that it had been needed since his name had been enough for his lordship to welcome him into his home.

The man broke the seal on the letter as he led the way to the room next door. A small dining table and a sideboard were laden with all the dishes Yiannis had been smelling.

“Help yourself, help yourself,” Lord Pemberton-Howe said, waving distractedly toward the sideboard, not lifting his eyes from the letter. A frown creased his forehead, and he dropped down into the chair at the head of the table. A footman immediately filled a cup in front of him with rich coffee.

“I hope there is nothing disturbing,” Yiannis said, watching his host.

“What? Oh, no, no. You know, just news from a dear old friend. Catching up,” the man said, with hardly a glance up from the missive.

Yiannis couldn’t imagine what his father had written to cause Lord Pemberton-Howe to frown. He forced himself to focus on filling a plate with delicious food and not watch his host's expressive face instead. Still, he couldn’t help but steal glances at Lord Pemberton-Howe as he read through the letter.

At one point, Lord Pemberton-Howe raised his eyes and caught Yiannis watching him. After that, the only expression on the man’s face as he finished reading the letter was the rise and lowering of his thick, white eyebrows from time to time. Once he grunted and then the next moment he chuckled, but that was the extent of it.

Finally, he carefully folded the letter and set it aside to focus his attention on the plate of food the footman had set in front of him.

It was all Yiannis could do to keep from asking straight out what his father had written. When the silence had dragged on as long as he could stand, Yiannis finally said, “My father has asked me to locate and sketch whatever ancient Greek artifacts I can find here in England.”

“Yes, so he mentioned in his letter,” his lordship said in between bites.

Yiannis waited for more, but once again his host was not forthcoming. Yiannis was ready to tear out his hair at the man’s reticence.

“He didn’t happen to mention why he sent me to complete this task?” Yiannis asked in as off-hand a way as he could.

“He must have given you some sort of explanation before you left, no?” the man said, excellently evading the question.

Yiannis took a gulp of his cooling coffee. “Just that he was worried too many artifacts were being removed from Greece.”

“Indeed,” his lordship nodded. “This is quickly becoming a serious problem. Ever since Elgin, more and more people—under the pretense of ‘saving’ these cultural artifacts—are taking pieces out of the country. The fact that this practice is being legitimized by the English government, through the British Museum, is especially disturbing.”

“Yes,” Yiannis agreed. But there had to be more to his father’s directive. Yiannis had had the past three weeks on board the ship from Athens to try to come up with a good reason for this trip. He had already thought of—and dismissed—the obvious answer Lord Pemberton-Howe had just given him. “He gives no other explanation?” Yiannis pressed.

His host’s eyebrows rose, crinkling his forehead. “Did you expect something more? This is a serious problem, Yiannis. I agree with your father that it would be good to have some sort of registry, don’t you?”

Yiannis hadn’t thought an archaeologist would be so good at vague answers. He gave up—for the time being. “Yes, of course, my lord.”

Lord Pemberton-Howe took a sip of his coffee then said, “Your father mentioned that funds will be coming to you from his bank in Germany. Until then you will, I hope, consider this your home. It is just Thalia and me here. We live quietly. You would be most welcome to stay.”

Yiannis was touched by his lordship’s generosity. “Thank you, sir, that is very kind.” He paused, considered his next words carefully then asked, “Thalia, my lord? I was given to understand that Lady Pemberton-Howe had, er, expired some time ago.”

His lordship’s lips quirked up for a second—Yiannis couldn’t tell if it was a smile or an attempt to hold back an expression of distress. “Yes. Thalia is my youngest daughter. She’s a bit of a handful, but, well, she has a good heart.”

“Oh, I see.” No, he really didn’t see at all. What did it mean that she was a handful? A handful of what? Her absence at breakfast made Yiannis wonder what her age was. He could only assume that she was a young child and therefore eating in the nursery. Otherwise, surely she would have joined them.

“And now about this task of yours. Have you given any thought, or has your father given you any direction as to how you are to find these artifacts?” Lord Pemberton-Howe asked.

“No, my father gave me no instructions beyond ‘find them,’” Yiannis admitted. “I have given it some thought. To begin with, I imagine that there must be an archaeological society of some sort?”

“Yes, yes. Excellent idea. There is indeed, and I shall be happy to introduce you at our next meeting on Wednesday.”

“Thank you,” Yiannis nodded. “And what about the universities? Oxford and Cambridge? Surely they have men in residence who teach history who might have purchased artifacts either for their own studies or for their own private collections?”

Lord Pemberton-Howe nodded. “They, too, would be members of the archaeological society. They don’t attend every meeting, but do come quite frequently.”

“And I was hoping that you might know of any others?” Yiannis offered his last idea.

“I might. Fungy and Rose might as well.”

Yiannis’s fork froze in mid-air. He looked at his host. “What is Fungy and Rose?”

Lord Pemberton-Howe laughed. “Not what, my boy, who. Rose is my oldest daughter. Fungy—St. John Fotheringay-Phipps, but we all just call him Fungy—is her husband. Very nice fellow. Very knowledgeable about all sorts of things. It was quite a surprise, but, well…” He chuckled. “When you meet him, you’ll understand.”

Chapter Three

Yiannis entered the drawing room that evening for a “little family dinner,” according to the man who had helped Yiannis to dress for the evening. Just those words—little family dinner—made Yiannis worry. In his family, that meant at least thirty to forty people would be present.

His father had been one of ten children. When they had “little family dinners,” at least some if not all of Yiannis’s aunts, uncles, and cousins would be there. They would play a horrid game of one-upmanship, boasting of their children and their accomplishments. Yiannis’s father hated it and would never engage. Yiannis wasn’t sure if it was because he was embarrassed that his son was an artist or just because he refused to play along. Whichever it was, it had hurt.

No, “little family dinners” were never, ever a pleasant way to spend an evening. But he had to make an appearance. Yiannis needed to meet and charm Lord Pemberton-Howe’s family. The man was being exceedingly kind and generous, not only allowing him to stay in his home but in assisting with his father’s directive. He owed his lordship a great deal; the least he could do was go to his “little family dinner” and behave properly.