An Honorable Thief (6 page)

Kit managed a quiver and a sob without losing her step. "My papa ith... ith... dead."

Above her head, Devenish rolled his eyes and danced grimly on, silently cursing the length of these wretched Viennese dances. It was worse than he had expected
—getting information out of this little dullard was like getting blood out of a stone. Lord knew what his nephew saw in her. A man needed more in a wife than a pretty face or a fortune.

Not that she was all that pretty
—oh, she was well enough; small, dark-haired, which was the fashion just now, and passable enough features—a straight little nose, a cu
riously squared-off chin and slender arching dark brows set over a pair of very speaking blue eyes. Yes, the eyes were her best feature...so very blue...

But Lord! If he had to look at that vapid smile and listen to those simpering "yeths" over the breakfast table every morning, he would strangle the woman inside a month! Less. He would infinitely prefer that he never had to speak to her again.

But he had promised her another interminable waltz, he recalled gloomily. And then supper. At least there might be crab patties at supper to compensate. He was very fond of crab patties.

"Well, Hugo?" Amelia glided up to him, a beaded silk scarf trailing behind her in elegant disarray. "What do you think? Have you learned all about the diamond mine in New South Wales? I hope you didn't tell her you were Thomas's uncle!"

He glowered at her from under dark eyebrows. Five minutes' conversation with the Singleton chit had caused him more frustration and annoyance than he had experienced in a long time. But he was not going to give in so easily. He was loath to admit he had discovered almost nothing about the wretched girl.

Yet.

Hugo Devenish was not a man who would let himself be defeated by a pretty widgeon.
Defeated?
He blinked in surprise, and caught himself up. An odd word to use.

Amelia tugged his sleeve impatiently. "Hugo! What did you tell her? If she discovers your tradesman's blood..."

He withdrew his arm and smoothed the crumpled fabric in irritation. "The girl is a dead bore."

"But
—"

"In fact, much more of Miss Singleton's company would drive me to Bedlam. Thomas must be desperate indeed to

consider wedding such a dreary little simpleton, rich or not."

Amelia looked at him in surprise. "Simpleton? I do not think she is simple, Hugo."

He shrugged. "Well, either she is simple-minded, or so shy that it cannot make any difference." He rolled his eyes. "And that lisp! Infuriating."

"What lisp?" said Amelia, confused. "Are you certain you have the right girl, Hugo? Miss Singleton has no lisp. And I've never thought her shy."

Hugo frowned down at his cousin. "No lisp? Are you deaf? All I got out of the wretched girl was a dozen 'yeths'
—addressed to my waistcoat."

Amelia's eyes narrowed. "Did she indeed? How very intriguing." A faint worldly smile curved her discreetly painted lips. "Hugo, you've flustered the poor little creature. How very, very interesting. She has never once lisped in my hearing, and Thomas has certainly never mentioned it
—and I do believe he would have." She frowned suddenly. "So...Miss Singleton is not immune to the charms of an older man, then—''

"Older man!" snapped Hugo. "I am barely two and thirty, Amelia, as you very well know! And you, sister-in-law, have the advantage of me by more than ten years."

"Nonsense, it is barely seven!" retorted Amelia instantly. "I am not yet turned fort
—no, I cannot even say it. It was most ungallant of you to raise such an unpleasant subject." She waved away his objections. "The point is, Hugo, that I know how overwhelming a man of your age and experience can seem to a chit just out of the schoolroom."

Hugo opened his mouth to argue, but Amelia continued, "She must have a
tendre
for you, else why would she lisp and behave shyly? Take it from me, she is not shy with anyone else. Quiet, pretty-behaved, yes. But I've found her

perfectly ready to converse and not a hint of shyness. No, if she is developing a
tendre
for you, it is yet another reason why you must certainly stay away from her."

"Oh, do not be ridiculous! How the devil can I investigate her background if I cannot go near her? You and Thomas would soon find yourselves in the suds if her fortune was not as large as it is reputed to be."

"We will find ourselves in the suds if the girl decides she prefers you to Thomas, too!" responded Amelia crossly. "Stop it Hugo! There is no need to roll your eyes at me in that disagreeable manner. I am merely stating a fact."

"Rubbish! Believe me, there is no danger of me succumbing to her simple-minded charms."

"The girl is no more simple-minded than you or I!" Amelia stamped her foot. "She is young, yes, and innocent, but she is not the least bit stupid or shy."

"But
—"

"And she does
not
stutter
—"

"Lisp."

"Lisp, then." Amelia hurried on, her eyes narrowed with ambition. "But she's clearly smitten by your masculine charms, Hugo, and thus all our problems are compounded. I
knew
you would ruin everything! You must leave this girl, and take yourself back to your rural wastes and your horrid ships. Thomas and I will see to securing this fortune ourselves. I'll not stand by to see you dazzle the girl with your elegance, your worldly address and your
—"

"Steal my nephew's bride from under bis nose?" interrupted Hugo with asperity. "Apart from being ridiculous, I have no intention
—"

"She is not his bride yet; they are not even betrothed. And
—"

"Oh, well, if she's not even betrothed," he said provocatively. "Oh, don't look like that! I have no interest in the girl, or her purported riches. I merely wish to investigate her background
—as Thomas's trustee! And that is all! Put those ridiculous suspicions from your mind! I have no need of a fortune, let alone a diamond mine of unproven provenance. And there is not the slightest danger of my succumbing to the charms of the younger Miss Singleton. Far from it! I am more like to strangle the girl!"

Kit frowned as she adjusted a curl in the mirror of one of the withdrawing rooms set aside for ladies. It was a puzzle as to why Mr Devenish was so interested in her. All those questions about her father. And New South Wales.

Perhaps Lady Norwood and Mr Devenish thought Kit a fortune hunter, out to snabble a lord for a husband.

She would have to allay their suspicions. It would be disastrous to her plans if Mr Devenish investigated her background too deeply and discovered that Miss Catherine Singleton was in fact Miss Kit Smith, actually christened Kathleen, and not a member of an aristocratic family at all. And that her father had been thrown out of New South Wales and a number of other places for cheating at cards. And worse.

If that came out, there would be a frightful scandal, and poor Rose Singleton would be the one to suffer for it. Kit would not permit such a thing to happen, not if she could prevent it. Whatever she had done in the past, Rose was an innocent, a kind and generous-hearted innocent, and Kit would not allow such a sweet-natured woman to suffer on her behalf.

She would have to speak to Thomas as soon as possible and make it clear she had no interest in him. And if he did not listen this time she would be more firm; once Thomas was out of the picture, Mr Devenish would have no reason to enquire into her background.

Foiling Mr Devenish's brusque, penetrating enquiries was much like fencing with rapiers
—exhilarating but dangerous. To see much more of him would be dangerous not only to her plans, but to her peace of mind, she suspected.

So she would allow herself one more encounter with the big dark watchdog and then
—

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

Kit's thought were interrupted as a young girl came blundering into the withdrawing room and crashed into her.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

The girl, who was very young and very pretty, stared a moment at Kit, then burst into tears, clearly overwrought.

Kit seated the young girl on a padded velvet bench and set herself to calming her. She had noticed her at a number of social events; like Kit, the girl was only just out.

"Miss...Miss Lutens, is it not?"

The girl nodded tearfully. "And you are Miss Singleton. I met you last week at Mrs Russell's recital. How do you do?" she sobbed, politely holding out her hand.

Kit smiled at such well-drilled manners. She patted the girl's hand and took out a handkerchief. "Tell me what is distressing you?'' she said after Miss Lutens had calmed a tittle.

"Oh, I cannot," she wept. "It is too mortifying, too foolish of me. I am just..." She wiped her eyes with Kit's handkerchief.

"Come now, splash some cold water on your face and you will feel better. Would you like me to fetch your mama?"

"Oh, no!" gasped Miss Lutens in distress. "Mama would be so cross."

Kit stared. It had been her impression that girls always turned to their mothers in distress.

"It is nothing. I am being silly, that is all. It is just that Sir Bar
—no! No, take no notice. It is nothing."

Sir Bar
— Kit frowned. She recalled seeing this girl in
the company of a certain Sir Bartlemy Bowles. Quite frequently, of late.

"Has Sir Bartlemy Bowles been bothering you?" she asked bluntly.

Miss Lutens gasped. "How did you know?''

"I saw him with you earlier. My aunt warned me about him. He is reputed to have the hands of an octopus, is that not so?"

Miss Lutens blinked.

"Too many hands, too much touching," explained Kit.

"Oh!" Miss Lutens gasped, blushing. "Yes, exactly! And
clammy
!"
She wrung her hands together in distress. "I simply cannot bear it."

"Tell your mother," recommended Kit. "She'll soon send the clammy-handed old roue about his business. From what my aunt says, he's notorious for pestering young girls. And though he is rich, he's also married, so there is no need to worry that your mama plans to wed you to the horrid old slug."

Miss Lutens giggled at the description, but shook her head. "No, that is the trouble, for I did mention it once, and Mama did not believe that Sir Bartlemy could be so ungallant. She told me not to be so silly."

Her hands twisted the damp handkerchief into a rope. “He used to be a beau of hers, you understand, before she married Papa, and I think she still has a
tendre
for him." She bit her Up. "I think.. .Mama thinks he is paying me so much attention for her sake..."

"Ahh," said Kit, understanding her dilemma at last. "Well, then, you must get rid of the fellow yourself."

Miss Lutens stared at her with large brown eyes. "Get rid of him? But how?"

"Be firm, be bold," said Kit decisively. "Tell him to keep his hands to himself."

Miss Lutens's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Oh! I am not sure I could... And what if he does not?"

“Then slap him! Good and hard.''

"Oh, I could not possibly slap him!" gasped Miss Lu-tens. "It would make a scandal, me slapping a man of his rank and years. I truly could not!"

Kit frowned. Miss Lutens had a point. “Well, try being firm and speaking to him about it, and if that does not work, let me know. I shall think of something. We women have to put up with enough in life without having to endure furtive caresses from a slug!"

"Oh, yes! Thank you!" Miss Lutens beamed. "Oh, I am so pleased to have met you. I was not looking forward to this ball, you know, with Sir Bartlemy escorting Mama and me, but now I have made a friend and I am so happy!" She clasped Kit's hand in an eager grip.

Kit smiled, her heart sinking. It was not part of her plans to make friends. If she allowed people to get too close to her, they would see through her deception. Already with Miss Lutens she had not behaved as an unworldly innocent would
—she had dropped her role to rescue an innocent child from a nasty groping octopus.

It was a foolish move. But Kit could not help herself. She had learned very young to protect herself from unwanted attentions
—she'd had to with the life she'd lived.

Kit hesitated. She'd been watching the other young girls with envy in her heart, envying them their doting parents and protective chaperones and wondering wistfully what her life might have been like if Papa had doted on her like these parents did on their daughters.

But now she realised that their very protectiveness had made these girls quite vulnerable to the unscrupulous attentions of persons like Sir Bartlemy Bowles. Without her mother's support, Miss Lutens was like an oyster without a shell; soft, exposed and utterly unable to protect herself.

But Kit did not have had the benefit of a protected upbringing; she had more than a few tricks up her sleeve. She resolved to help Miss Lutens.

"You need not simply put up with things, you know. You can take action on your own behalf."

"How?" said Miss Lutens, eagerly.