The Thief Read online

  “I will give your suggestion all due consideration.”

  “I am sure you will,” Edmund replied in a dry voice, wishing his uncle could control his odd urges. Somehow, it fell to Edmund to replace all the small objects that made their way into his uncle’s pockets.

  They managed to leave London behind before Hansford waved his handkerchief again in defeat as they approached a crowded coaching inn. After a light lunch and two tankards of light ale, a healthier tinge colored Hansford’s thin cheeks.

  “Would you like to stop here for the day?” Edmund cut into a slightly withered apple obviously left over from the previous fall.

  “No.” Hansford shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am quite ready to continue, at least as far as The Orchards.”

  “The Orchards?” A suspicious feeling crept over Edmund.

  “Yes.” His uncle smiled blandly. “Giles Archer is a friend of yours, is he not?”

  “He is, but he can hardly want to see me again so soon.”

  “He and his sister will be happy to see you, I am sure of it. And I shall be happy to rest there for a few days before continuing home. It is tedious to be trapped in the close confines of a coach for hours on end. A break would be most welcomed.”

  “I see,” Edmund said. “Are the Archers expecting us, then?”

  “No, nothing of the sort.” Hansford paused and appeared to think for a few minutes. “The Season was not particularly successful, was it? I had thought you might offer for Miss Lewis. It would have been a good match as you are in business with her father.”

  A small flash of anger came and went as quickly as a spark flying off a struck flint. Edmund hated to be reminded of his near mistake. He had thought the same as his uncle until Miss Lewis began to treat Edmund with a condescending air that presaged difficulties if he were idiotic enough to offer for her.

  “We would not suit one another,” Edmund said at last.

  Hansford nodded. “An excellent excuse after losing her to Archer.”

  “I did not lose her to Archer.”

  Giles Archer’s competitiveness had made him chase Miss Lewis for the sheer joy of cutting Edmund out, but fortunately he had realized his mistake before Edmund had grown weary enough to step aside. And Archer had nearly fallen into Miss Lewis’s trap before he abruptly lost interest prior to leaving London. Edmund wondered if Archer realized how close he’d come to an engagement.

  “Did you simply lose interest, then, or was another young lady on your mind?” Hansford asked.

  “What?”

  “Well, you could hardly be so sanguine about losing the only woman you appeared to be attracted to unless there was another fair damsel already edging her way into your heart.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Perhaps Miss Archer?”

  “Don’t be absurd. We have known each other our entire lives. She is like a sister to me. Would I have made the betrothal wager with her had I felt anything other than friendship?”

  Hansford laughed. “My dear nephew, the best marriages are based upon friendship. I believe your reason for dropping Miss Lewis might not be the one you claimed.”

  Crack! The carriage jolted to a stop.

  Wiping his brow with his handkerchief, Hansford glanced out of the window. He smiled. “If I am not mistaken, we have damaged a wheel. Fortuitously, we appear to be near The Orchards and can halt our journey there. What say you, nephew?”

  Edmund studied his uncle, thinking about Hansford’s observation. Had Edmund overlooked Miss Archer, taking her for granted simply because he knew her so well?

  “Well, nephew?”

  “I beg your pardon. Yes, that is an excellent suggestion. I believe we should visit the Archers.” He wasn’t ready to accept his uncle’s suggestion, but Edmund did find that he wanted to see the lovely Miss Archer again.

  Perhaps the accident truly was fortuitous.

  Chapter Four

  Constance had barely settled into the Archer’s sprawling country home when Giles pounded on her chamber door. “The Hansfords are here. Stop hiding in your room and come down to the drawing room.”

  “I am not hiding, I’m trying to catch up on my correspondence.” Constance opened her door. “What is Lord Blackhazel doing here?”

  “Blackhazel and his uncle, Mr. Hansford, you mean,” he corrected as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “They are on their way to Blackhazel’s estate and decided to stay here a few days, or so they said.” He eyed his sister and grinned. “At least it gives you another chance at becoming Lady Blackhazel.”

  “Why do you persist in this belief that I wish to marry him?” She brushed past him and headed for the stairs, shaking the wrinkles out the skirts of her round dress of pink muslin and smoothing the lace running down the front. She should have been writing letters, but in reality, she’d been rearranging the contents of her wardrobe. She wasn’t dressed to receive visitors, but her brother would never give her time to change clothes or brush the dust out of her hair.

  Giles followed her, obviously bent on goading her. “It is better than becoming an old maid, is it not?”

  “No, dear brother, it is not,” she answered sweetly as she descended the creaking staircase. “You see, I intend to grant you the privilege of supporting me so that you can continue to have the advantage of my advice for the rest of your life.”

  “Not bloody likely,” he grumbled under his breath, following her.

  Still smiling, Constance entered the drawing room. Their mother had redecorated the room fifteen years ago in muted greens and golds and at that time, the colors and rich fabrics had looked fresh and inviting. Since her mother’s death, Constance found the room becoming shabby and a little forlorn, but she didn’t have the heart to redo what her mother had done. Somehow, the colors always reminded her of her mother.

  As soon as she entered, Lord Blackhazel and his uncle, Mr. Hansford, rose.

  Lord Blackhazel caught her gaze and an elusive dimple appeared as he smiled. “Miss Archer, how delightful to see you again. You are well?”

  “Yes.” She bit her tongue to stop from commenting that they had seen each other a mere five days ago before the Archers departed London. “And how are you and your uncle?”

  “Splendid!” Mr. Hansford declared with a slight bow. “Absolutely splendid!”

  He had the same twinkling brown eyes of his nephew, but Mr. Hansford’s brown hair was mostly gray and brushed back from his high forehead unlike Lord Blackhazel’s mop that threatened to spill over his brow with the smallest movement. Mr. Hansford was nearly as tall as Lord Blackhazel, but he was very thin and lacked his nephew’s broad shoulders and determined, square jaw. In fact, given a roughly woven cowl, he could easily have passed for a scholarly monk, slightly bent, and nearsighted from years of study.

  “You will stay the night at least,” Giles said. He placed a heavy hand on Constance’s shoulder and pushed her, not so gently, toward a large, green damask wing chair.

  “Certainly.” Mr. Hansford beamed and nodded.

  “As soon as our carriage is mended, we will be on our way,” Lord Blackhazel amended. “We have no wish to discommode you when you have only just arrived at The Orchards.”

  “Your carriage?” Constance frowned in confusion and glanced over her shoulder at her brother. Hadn’t Giles indicated that the Hansfords had halted at The Orchards so the men could rest before continuing to their estate? She knew Mr. Hansford had been ill and traveling would be difficult for him, so breaking their journey into easy stages seemed reasonable.

  “Yes, a wheel cracked. It should not take too long to mend,” Lord Blackhazel said with a reassuring smile.

  “No need to rush off,” Giles said, leaning over the back of Constance’s chair.

  She shifted in her seat, hating the feeling that he was looming over her deliberately to irritate her nerves. “Giles is correct: there is no need to rush off. I am sure Mr. Hansford will appreciate a few days here before you go on to
your estate in Surrey.”

  “Yes, indeed. Thank you.” Mr. Hansford rubbed his long-fingered hands together and glanced around the room. “Splendid.” His stomach rumbled, but they were all too polite to comment on the noise that continued on and off for another two minutes.

  “Would you like tea?” Constance asked when the growling subsided. “I know I am famished.” She pushed against the back of her chair to relieve the tension in her neck and to encourage her brother to stop slouching and move away.

  Unfortunately, he only seemed to lean harder against the chair back.

  “Yes.” Mr. Hansford’s large brown eyes brightened. “Tea would be splendid.”

  Constance had the sudden premonition that she was going to hate the word ‘splendid’ before too long. She stood and smiled at the men. “Let me see what our cook has prepared.”

  “No need.” Giles gripped her shoulder and encouraged her to reseat herself. “I will ring for the maid. When the Hansfords arrived, I ordered tea, so it ought to be nearly ready by now.”

  “Thank you,” Constance said with a stiff smile. Her brother obviously had no intention of allowing her to escape so she could put on a more flattering dress and brush her hair.

  She had just turned to face their guests when a loud crash sounded, followed by a series of screams, another smashing noise that sounded suspiciously like crockery breaking, and finally the unmistakable sound of canine paws clattering over the oak floor in the hallway.

  Through the door behind her, a white dog bounded into the room, tail wagging and pink tongue lolling.

  “Merlin!” Constance stood, torn between laughing and dying on the spot from mortification. The dog’s joyful expression made Constance bend to hug the animal and scratch his ears, although given the loud voices in the hallway, she could well imagine the trail of destruction the terrier had left behind. “How did you get in here, you sly thing?”

  “Oh, Miss, I am truly sorry!” One of the maids, a young girl who appeared to be no more than fifteen, came in, wringing her apron as tears ran down her red cheeks. She sniffled and said, “He ran right past me—fair knocked me over—and there I was with the tea all nice and proper on a tray.” A sob broke through her wavering voice and she rubbed her eyes with the hem of her apron. “And now it is all in pieces on the floor!”

  “Oh dear.” Constance caught Giles’s expression. He was doing his best not to laugh, but the harder he tried, the redder his face grew. “Well, if you could help Anna clean up the mess and have another tea tray prepared, I would appreciate it. Thank you, Liza.”

  After a fearful gaze at the dog, Liza bobbed a curtsey and rushed out, still wringing her apron between her hands.

  Lord Blackhazel chuckled, but his uncle’s face grew ashen as he stared at the terrier. Laying a hand on the dog’s head, Constance asked, “Do you find dogs disagreeable, Mr. Hansford?”

  “No, no, not at all. I have a good many figurines of dogs that I quite like,” he replied hastily. “I simply am not, well, familiar with live animals, at least not in the house.” Despite his assurances, he remained pale and took a step back when Merlin sniffed the air in his direction.

  “You don’t need to fear Merlin.” She stroked the dog’s smooth head and it sat obediently at her side. “He is normally a very well-behaved dog.” She surreptitiously moved her foot out from under the dog’s haunches before her toes grew numb.

  “Good boy.” Giles clicked his fingers. Merlin leapt up and danced around Giles as he scratched its soft ears. “He is quite the most intelligent beast you are likely to find, are you not, boy?”

  Merlin barked excitedly and made a dash around the room during which it picked up a brass candlestick from a small table near the fireplace. When it completed the circuit, it pushed the candlestick into Giles’s hand and sat in front of him, wagging its tail.

  “See? What did I tell you?” The muscles in Giles’s arm tightened as he gripped the brass candlestick.

  “Don’t throw that,” Constance said sharply.

  Her brother cast her a disgusted glance before he set the candlestick on another small occasional table next to him. “I was not going to throw it in here.”

  You were, too. She shook her head at him as Merlin lay down, head on its paws, at her brother’s feet.

  While the family described Merlin as a terrier, it was much larger than most fox terriers even if it did have the smooth white coat along with the black and brown patches on its face that often characterized the breed. The dog also had a great deal of intelligence and a talent for breaking into the most securely locked houses that even the most accomplished burglar might envy.

  In short, it was a fairly large mongrel that had a superficial resemblance to standard terrier breeds and couldn’t be kept out of any place it really wanted to enter.

  “Merlin is an unusual moniker for a dog. How did you happen to name him that?” Lord Blackhazel asked.

  Giles laughed. “Because he can perform magic.”

  “Magic?” Mr. Hansford echoed, staring unhappily at the dog.

  “He does not perform magic.” Constance gave her brother a stern look. If Mr. Hansford was unsettled by dogs, there was no need to frighten him further. “He is just very clever.”

  “Never met a closed door he could not open,” Giles said. “And don’t leave anything bright and shiny within his reach if you value it.” He pointed to the candlestick. “He is a regular magpie. He either picks it up in hopes you will play fetch with it, or he takes it away and hides it. He has managed to collect quite a number of pretty baubles over the years has he not, dear sister?”

  “Well yes, but he is really not that ill-mannered. As long as you put everything away in a drawer or wardrobe, you should have no difficulties with him.” Constance glanced at her brother, feeling as if she had just told a terrible falsehood.

  Instead of supporting her as she hoped, her brother’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Not precisely true, though. Don’t you remember that time he got into the drawers in father’s wardrobe and took every silver button he had?” He chuckled. “It was the cleverest thing: we did not realize what had happened for ages because he closed the drawers after he rifled through them.”

  “How did you determine what had happened?” Lord Blackhazel snapped his fingers. Tail wagging so hard it knocked over the table next to Constance, Merlin dashed over to Lord Blackhazel and leaned against him while Lord Blackhazel scratched its ears.

  “We did not know,” Constance said, relieved that at least Lord Blackhazel seemed to like dogs. “I only found the buttons, along with a number of other things, when I discovered the nest Merlin made for himself in the cellar. He had one of my best shawls, too. I thought I had lost it at Miss Lewis’s house, but our little thief had taken it, instead.”

  “I told you: intelligent.” Giles beamed at the dog as it wagged its tail violently, battering Lord Blackhazel’s well-polished Hessian boots.

  Chapter Five

  After tea, the men went out to inspect a chestnut gelding Giles had acquired in London, leaving Constance and Anna to clear away the impressive array of cups and plates scattered over every flat surface in the drawing room. Finally hoping she could change out of her increasingly limp muslin gown, Constance had just picked up the last cup when their butler, Mr. Brown, announced yet another visitor.

  Constance handed the delicate bone china cup to Anna and once more tried to smooth out the stubborn wrinkles from her skirt. “Who is it now?”

  “It is Miss Franklin, Miss Archer,” Mr. Brown said.

  “With her mother, I presume.”

  Brown shook his head and from the creases furrowing his brow, he appeared to take a dim view of young ladies wandering around the English countryside without a proper chaperone. “No, Miss. She is quite alone.”

  “With her groom?” It was the only thing that made sense. Miss Franklin was the height of respectability and would hardly go riding without an escort. It wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t done by young la
dies of fashion.

  “No, Miss. As I said, she is alone: entirely on her own.”

  Odd. “Well, show her in.” Constance sighed as the tea she had already drunk sloshed inside her. “And Anna, bring another tray of tea.”

  “Yes, Miss.” The servants answered in chorus. Anna curtseyed and the two departed on their separate errands.

  A minute later, Mr. Brown returned and announced Miss Franklin.

  When Constance saw the strained expression on Miss Franklin’s plain face, she held out her hands and drew her into the drawing room. “What’s wrong, Miss Franklin? Has something happened?”

  “No. I’m so sorry to arrive like this, but I…” Her low voice stumbled to a helpless halt.

  “Sit down, please.” Putting an arm around the woman’s shoulders, Constance led her to the green wing chair. “I have already sent for tea.”

  Miss Franklin sat as if her knees had suddenly buckled, and she took a deep breath. “You have always been such a good friend, and I did not know where else to go.”

  “Honestly, I am pleased you felt you could come here for we are true friends.” She glanced up as Anna returned with a tray laden with a fresh pot of tea and a plate of delicacies including some large Sally Lunn buns.

  Constance poured the tea and offered Miss Franklin the plate of sliced cakes, waiting until Anna finally left the room and shut the door. Once Miss Franklin had taken a few sips of tea, some of the color returned to her cheeks, and the skin around her blue eyes seemed less pinched.

  “If you are feeling refreshed, can you tell me what has happened? Mr. Brown indicated you are unaccompanied and that it not at all like you.”

  “I was desperate, Miss Archer. I did not know what to do. My mother says I will have to leave tomorrow for a position in Northumberland. I have never in my life been to Northumberland.”

  “A position?” Constance asked, confused. “In Northumberland?”