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  The Thief

  Amy Corwin

  The Thief © 2015 Amy Corwin

  Cover Design 2015 - Leanne Burroughs

  Published by Highland Press Publishing at Smashwords

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

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any term or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express permission of

  Highland Press Publishing.

  HIGHLAND PRESS PUBLISHING

  Print ISBN - 978-1-942606-01-7 (Seasons of Love)

  Regency Royale

  Chapter One

  London, 1816

  “How can you ask me such a thing, Giles?” Miss Constance Archer asked her brother as she smiled and nodded across the ballroom to their hostess, Lady Alicia Manville.

  Instead of smiling back, Lady Alicia’s frown deepened. Constance reviewed her recent behavior and couldn’t recall anything Lady Alicia might conceivably disapprove of, but then Lady Alicia considered Constance to be an unrepentant hoyden, so perhaps she thought Constance standing demurely next to her brother presaged some sort of improper behavior.

  “Well?” Giles asked.

  Realizing he’d been talking to her for at least a minute and she hadn’t heard a single word, Constance glanced up at him. “I don’t understand.” That admission was far more acceptable than admitting she hadn’t been listening.

  “You don’t understand?” His dark brows lowered ominously over his gray eyes. “I just explained it to you. It is so simple even a child could understand. Miss Lewis is your friend, is she not?”

  “Yes, however—”

  He interrupted impatiently, “Then for my sake, intercede before it is too late.”

  “Too late?” she asked, reluctant to interfere in her brother’s pursuit of her friend. The path of true love was never smooth and any stones they stumbled over would surely be thrown in her direction if she dared to become involved.

  “He visited her house yesterday morning, too early for a social call. I am convinced he went to speak to her father. He is going to propose, and you must make her realize an alliance with Blackhazel would never do.”

  “Convince her yourself,” she answered brutally. She hadn’t realized Lord Blackhazel’s affections were so firmly fixed and the notion annoyed her. However, she attributed the unpleasant feeling to her loyalty to her brother and tried to sound civil when she added, “Why don’t you speak to her father if your affections lie in that quarter?”

  “I am trying, Connie, but I am not ready to speak to her father, and I could use your support. As her closest friend, she will listen to you.”

  “Not if she loves him.”

  “Well, she does not. I am sure of it.”

  “Then you should not need me to interfere. Ready or not, you should speak to her father.” She tried not to sound too irritated, but her brother was notorious for his mercurial affections that seemed to change on a weekly basis. His reluctance to speak to Miss Lewis’s father strengthened Constance’s resolve to stay out of her brother’s affairs.

  “Do you want her to marry him?” he asked.

  “Why should that matter to me? Have you forgotten the mouse incident?”

  “Mouse?” Giles laughed and playfully tapped her shoulder with his fist. It hurt and she rubbed the spot, eyeing him uncharitably. “That was eight years ago if it was a day. You cannot hold that against me or Blackhazel.”

  She could and she did.

  One sticky, hot summer day long after Constance had decided her brother had outgrown jokes, her brother and his friend, Lord Blackhazel, had proved how wrong she was. Laughing at her protests, the boys had locked her in the cellar and thrown a box of mice through the window to spill its wriggling contents at her feet. They little realized that instead of terror, she thought the mice were the sweetest things she had ever seen, and she was grateful to them for calling her attention to the one window that wasn’t painted shut. Patient as a cat, she had collected the confused and frightened rodents and put them back in their box.

  After the boys ran off, hooting with hilarity, she managed to crawl out of the stuffy, dark space. That night, her brother and his friend woke up screaming and subsequently discovered dozens of mice burrowing into their pillows. Giles naturally blamed Lord Blackhazel, and Blackhazel returned the sentiment since both boys retained the illusion that Constance was deathly afraid of the small creatures. The next few days were magically quiet as the boys spent most of their waking hours devising suitable and escalating methods of revenge.

  She didn’t see or hear about all of the tricks the boys played on one another, but the rest of that summer had been blissfully quiet as far as Constance was concerned.

  “I can only repeat that Lord Blackhazel does not interest me.” Although Constance preferred to believe Lord Blackhazel had finally matured and no longer indulged in whimsical jokes, he seemed more like another older brother to her after so many summers spent together as children. Familiarity didn’t necessarily breed contempt, but it certainly didn’t breed love, either.

  “You cannot gammon me, rodents notwithstanding.” A slow, devilish grin stretched Giles’s mouth. “It is apparent to everyone that you cherish hopes in that direction, my dear sister.”

  “The only hopes I cherish are that you will do your duty and ask some unsuspecting female to dance with you before Lady Alicia sends her butler to escort us to the door. Naturally, I am assuming there are some females present who have never danced with you and therefore don’t realize your propensity to rip the hems and crush the toes of any poor woman who stands up with you.”

  Her brother grinned and placed a mocking hand over his heart. “What is this cross temper, dear Connie? Has Blackhazel neglected to ask you to dance this evening?” He grasped her hand and pulled her a step toward the dancing couples. “Let me assist you by bringing you to his attention. I am sure he will take pity on you if I beg him to.”

  “You will do nothing of the sort, you lout!” Pulling her hand from his grasp, she stepped back to her place by the wall.

  “I will let him know you are languishing here, desperately waiting for a scrap of his attention, if you don’t oblige me by convincing Miss Lewis that she could do better.”

  “Very well.” Constance’s clasped hands tightened as she resisted the urge to jab her elbow into his ribs. “I will do my best, but you cannot expect any further favors, ever. Your success or failure is entirely in your hands. If you wish to engage her affections, speak to her father and try to be a bit more diligent in courting her. You cannot expect her to wait patiently while you and your friends go to horse races, boxing matches, and the like.”

  In a surprising burst of good humor, her brother bent and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “You are a treasure, my sweet sister.” Then he tapped the large emerald in the center of the necklace she wore. “And make sure you don’t lose that treasure, cursed though it may be. Cousin Oriana would never forgive you if you lose the Peckham necklace after all the trouble she went through to find it.”

  “There is no need to worry. I have never lost anything in my life.”

  “Be that as it may, there is still the curse to cont
end with. I am surprised you have the courage to wear it.”

  “Perhaps I hope for a speedy end to this dreadful Season by dying in some romantic fashion.” She fingered the emerald in the center of the necklace. “At any rate, the curse does not appear to be working, as I feel quite well.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “You tempt fate, Connie.”

  “Hardly. I simply don’t accept such superstitious nonsense. Now go away like a good brother and make some other female desperately unhappy.”

  Chuckling, he strode away.

  Uncomfortably speculating on what deviltry he might get up to, Constance watched her brother wander through the attendees on the fringes of the dance floor. When he reached the far side of the room, he sauntered up to a plain girl ensconced in a corner chair next to her mother, Lady Alicia. Giles bowed, extended his hand to Miss Manville and escorted her to the dance floor. Blushing and smiling, Miss Manville appeared ecstatic as she took her place opposite Giles.

  Relieved that her brother was making the attempt to behave, Constance let out a long breath. For the first time since she arrived, Lady Alicia smiled at her.

  “Are you not dancing?” Miss Lewis, the object of her brother’s desire, asked as she joined her.

  “Not at the moment.” Constance impulsively glanced across the room at her brother. At that same instant, he happened to look her way and noticed Miss Lewis. He smiled and nodded encouragement to Constance. An intense flash of irritation sparked in her chest, and she struggled to ignore the uncharitable feeling. “Don’t you find it a trifle warm?”

  “I do,” Miss Lewis agreed. “It is much too crowded to dance in this heat.”

  Miss Lewis was a pretty, good-natured girl who almost always agreed with anything anyone said, which most likely accounted for Giles’s infatuation with her. As soon as she realized how cynical her thoughts had become, Constance thrust them away. She liked the woman too much to be so mean-spirited. Miss Lewis deserved her popularity and never acted superior because of it. If anything, she had grown kinder as the Season plodded through its never-ending paces.

  “My brother is here.” Constance struggled to think of a way to throw Miss Lewis in his direction. “He was hoping you would save a dance for him.”

  “Oh.” Miss Lewis’s gaze followed Giles for a moment as he worked his way through the country dance.

  Constance raised her brows, waiting for Miss Lewis to continue. When she didn’t, Constance tried again. “Is your dance card full?”

  “My goodness, no,” Miss Lewis admitted. “I was hoping to save at least one dance for…” She flushed and her voice drifted off before she named the lucky young man.

  “Lord Blackhazel, perhaps?” Constance asked lightly.

  Miss Lewis’s blush deepened, but she didn’t confirm her guess. “Is your card full?”

  “No.” Constance shifted her feet. They felt hot and swollen in her new dancing pumps, and she wished Lady Alicia had thought to provide more seating. “I understand Lord Blackhazel has visited your father. You must be very happy to have such an excellent offer.”

  “Happy?” Miss Lewis giggled. “Oh, you must not listen to such gossip. Lord Blackhazel and my father have business together. I don’t believe he is even aware that my father has a daughter, much less one of marriageable age.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” Constance said, relieved that her brother’s assumption was wrong. Now, she simply needed to find a way to turn Miss Lewis’s attention back to Giles. “I wish someone like you would form an attachment to my brother. He is so lonely that I fear he will never find true happiness.”

  “Oh? I had not noticed him being particularly lonely. He hides it very well.” Miss Lewis showed more astuteness than expected. With all his friends and constant attendance at the most elite social events of the Season, Mr. Giles Archer was the last person most people would describe as lonely.

  “Truly, he is lonely, and you are correct, he hides it very well. He is too proud to let it show.” Struggling to maintain her air of sincerity, Constance continued, purely out of loyalty to her brother, “Just the other day he told me he longed to find a helpmate to share his life. It is time for him to settle down and start his own family.”

  “Then I am so pleased he is enjoying his dance with Miss Manville. Her mother, Lady Alicia, seems satisfied, as well.”

  That wasn’t the reaction she had hoped for. “He indicated to me that he feels like an older brother to Miss Manville,” Constance said. “Truly, he—”

  Before she could finish, Lord Ainsley interrupted, bowing to both women. “Miss Lewis and Miss Archer, how delightful. I regret intruding, but I believe Miss Lewis promised me this dance. I regret I was so late in claiming it.”

  “Oh, not at all,” Miss Lewis murmured, casting a puzzled look at the dance card dangling from her wrist by a pink ribbon. “However, it is the next dance, is it not?”

  He leaned forward to peer at the card in her hand. “But you have no entry for this dance so who can say that fate herself did not allot this one to me? We must not refuse what the fates decree, Miss Lewis.”

  She laughed and nodded, placing her gloved hand lightly on his. “I shall be delighted, Lord Ainsley. Pray forgive us, Miss Archer.”

  Constance watched them go with mingled feelings of relief and aggravation. She had failed her brother, but thankfully, her excessively awkward conversation with Miss Lewis was finally over. On the whole, she found that she was satisfied, even if Giles was not.

  “Such a sad sigh,” a voice murmured in her ear. Lord Blackhazel stood at her elbow gazing at her, his brown eyes gleaming with good humor. When she turned to him, he caught her gloved hand and gave it a slight, friendly squeeze. “When Lord Ainsley joined you and Miss Lewis, I thought I had lost my opportunity to talk to you.”

  “No, obviously not.” She glanced over her shoulder at her brother. “Have you spoken to Giles?”

  “Archer? No. Should I speak to him?”

  “I just wondered.”

  “Ah, the light dawns. You were hoping he had reminded me to ask you to dance.” He held out a gloved-hand and bowed. “Would you honor me with this dance, Miss Archer?”

  “No, that is not it at all.” Despite her abrupt refusal, she took his proffered hand.

  “You don’t wish to dance?”

  “No, I meant I had not asked my brother to do any such thing.”

  “Then you were not hoping to dance with me,”—his eyes twinkled, although he continued—“and I am heartbroken.”

  “You are no such thing. Pray cease being such a muttonhead and stop pestering me so.”

  “But I came to beg a favor of you.”

  Inwardly, she cringed at the thought of yet another idiotic request. Why did her family and acquaintances insist on pushing her into the middle of their affairs? She had no inclination to meddle in things that weren’t her business and she knew she was incompetent at such things. Just look at the muddle she’d made of her brother’s request regarding Miss Lewis.

  “I am not sure I am in a position to grant any favors.”

  He smiled, a dimple creasing his cheek. “You shall find this one excessively simple.”

  “That does not reassure me.”

  “You are acquainted with Miss Lewis, are you not?”

  “Miss Lewis?” she echoed. She wanted to deny not only knowing her friend but the ability to speak as well. “Yes.”

  “Delightful. In the course of your many conversations, has she ever mentioned me?”

  “I cannot say one way or the other. It would be rude of me to reveal such a confidence as you very well know.”

  “You are not afraid of losing the wager, are you?” His voice rang light with amusement. “Of course I understand, but I had hoped we could forget that nonsense for one night.”

  “So that you could gain the advantage and win? No, I have no intention of assisting you in besting me.”

  “Not at all. I merely thought you had set aside that
ridiculous wager”—he glanced around with patently false sincerity—“since you are standing here with no prospects, kicking your heels against the wall.”

  “You are mistaken. I am resting at the moment.” She raised a brow and looked up at him. “Although I offer you my sympathy since you have had so little success that you are setting aside the wager, even if only for a single evening.”

  He laughed. “Like you, I am simply resting.” Pausing, he placed his left palm over her hand and studied the magnificent ballroom thoughtfully. “Nonetheless, one of us must win soon, or the wager will be a draw as the Season is coming to an end. It may merely be a matter of who is closest to the finish line.”

  “That is not the wager: the winner must be betrothed.” Without her realizing it, he had expertly guided her to the dance floor, and she found herself joining the line of dancers.

  “Then we should both redouble our efforts,” he said with a bow.

  Thankfully, the music and presence of other couples prevented her from answering and therefore ended their discussion of the wager Constance now loathed. When she’d entered into it at the beginning of the Season, it had seemed like such a lark. Several of her friends had laughingly agreed to similar ones and all of them had won, or lost, already and exchanged winnings with the other half of the pair.

  Now, only Lord Blackhazel and Constance remained in a stalemate, and she was heartily sick of the entire thing.

  As they waited for their turn in the dance, Constance changed the subject to a recent, albeit lamentably boring, art display.

  At least there was nothing that could possibly embarrass anyone in that topic.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Constance awoke much later than her usual seven a.m. and didn’t join the rest of the family in the breakfast room until nearly nine. She felt tired and muddle-headed as she sat, and she attributed her ill temper to her brother. After discovering several friends in attendance at Lady Alicia’s ball, he had fled with them to the card room, and Constance wasn’t able to pry him loose to accompany her home until nearly three in the morning.