The Gentleman Thief

Jolted from her stupor by the realization, Georgiana muttered her apologies in a hushed whisper that sounded like the breathless nonsense of a swooning admirer. And then, Georgiana, who thought herself past the age of blushes, felt a fiery stain rise in her cheeks as embarrassment claimed her. She was not one of those marriage-mad misses, and she desperately sought the words to convey that to his lordship. But her halting excuse was cut short by the arrival of her mother, along with two servants, who hurried to clean up the spilled soil.

“Georgie!” Wincing at the sound of her pet name called out loudly, Georgiana did not hear Ashdowne’s murmured platitude. And before she could question him, he tilted his head and moved away, as if all too relieved to quit her company. To her dismay, Georgiana found herself surrounded by her mother and her sisters, while he disappeared into the crowd.

“Georgie! What on earth were you doing—inspecting the shrubbery?” her mama asked, eyeing the nearby plant as if it ought to explain itself. When it did not, she turned to her daughter.

“Lovely girl, but not too graceful, I fear.” Her father’s booming voice made Georgiana grimace, as did the titters of her sisters. Must her whole family make so much of this?

“Are you all right, Miss Bellewether?” As if things were not bad enough, Mr. Nichols had found her again. And how could he not, considering the spectacle she had made of herself? “I say, one can hardly move in this dreadful squeeze, and to clutter the floor with obstacles…” He shook his head, his gaze drifting down her wrinkled clothes to her ankle. Hastily Georgiana smoothed her gown and sighed as her mother urged her to a nearby chair and Mr. Nichols forced upon her the ice that was now sadly warm.

While they fussed, Georgiana fought the urge to leap to her feet and flee their attentions. Worse yet, she felt as if all eyes in the room were upon her—a terrible prospect for someone who was trying to be unobtrusive. She had bungled royally—and just when she was finally hearing something interesting.

Scowling with exasperation, Georgiana waved her mother away and searched the crowd for any sign of Lord Whalsey and his cohort, but all she saw was Ashdowne. Although he appeared to be speaking with the hostess, his eyes were on her, his mouth curved in condemnation as if he held her entirely responsible for the recent debacle.

Botheration! She had not asked for his help, nor had she even seen him tendering it, so he could hardly blame her if his efforts went awry. She would have done better without him, she thought, her cheeks flaming, and she had a notion to tell him so, but her opportunity for dialogue had once again slipped away. And it was all her own fault!

A Bow Street Runner would not have gaped like a schoolroom miss at a pretty visage, but would have made the most of the chance encounter, asking Ashdowne what he was doing in Bath, judging his answers and slyly maneuvering him into an admission of…something. Georgiana wasn’t sure what exactly, but she was determined to find out.

She glanced toward the subject of her musings and nearly started in surprise, for he was gone once again, Lady Culpepper now being deep in conversation with a turbaned matron. Amazed, Georgiana blew out a breath, disturbing one of her curls, and shook her head. The man seemed to appear and disappear in an instant, and she decided it was a good thing she was not given to whimsy, or she might suspect him of preternatural abilities.

“…like limpid pools.” The sound of Mr. Nichols’s voice brought her attention back to him, and, pasting a smile upon her face, Georgiana tried to show more forbearance than was her wont. She managed the task for a few minutes before abandoning her efforts and excusing herself.

Telling her mother that she needed to freshen up after the mishap, Georgiana instead roamed the room looking for Whalsey and Cheever, to no avail. When she caught a glimpse of Mr. Hawkins bearing down upon her with grim intent, she fled out into the garden, where she breathed a deep sigh of relief.

The night air was scented with the spring flowers that lined secluded walkways, lit only by the glorious display of stars overhead. Another young lady might have found magic in the evening, but not Georgiana. She wondered who was out there in the darkness. Had Whalsey and his cohort adjourned to a more private location to discuss their suspicious business? Only Georgiana’s innate good sense prevented her from indulging her curiosity and slipping onto the paths herself.

With a sigh, she cursed the gender that made her prey to the designs of men and subject to the confining strictures of society. A Bow Street Runner could easily go wherever he wanted, whether a midnight garden or the seediest neighborhood in London. Ah, what a wonderful life, she thought, never pausing to wonder how such a fellow would manage to gain entry to a party such as this one. She spent long, delightful minutes enjoying the illustrious career that could have been hers, if only she had been born a man.

Georgiana might have remained there forever, lost in pleasant musings, if not for a loud giggle that erupted behind one of the nearby shrubs. With a sigh, she decided it was time to return to the party before she saw the kind of assignation that was of no interest to her—the romantic sort. No doubt her mother was searching for her, for it was growing late, and the rather staid Bellewether party would be heading home soon.

With one last glance at the dark lawn, Georgiana turned and slipped through the French doors into the reception room, prepared to find her family, when a bloodcurdling scream rent the air. Stunned, she turned toward the sound and caught sight of the hostess, Lady Culpepper, rushing down the main staircase, accompanied by the turbaned matron she had seen earlier.

Both women looked distraught, and Georgiana hurried forward. She reached the bottom of the steps just in time to hear the turbaned woman babble something about a necklace, and then the cry went up, carried through the crowd faster than any wildfire: ”Lady Culpepper’s famous emeralds have been stolen.”

As news of the theft flew through the reception room, the rest of the house and, presumably, all of Bath, Georgiana, who had refused to budge until she heard the whole of it, was privy to the first breathless report of the turbaned woman she later identified as Mrs. Higgott.

Weeding through the babbling to the bare facts of the matter, Georgiana learned that the two women had been discussing Lady Culpepper’s jewelry when Mrs. Higgott expressed admiration for the emerald necklace, well-known among the ton as the pride of her collection. Lady Culpepper, either graciously or vainly, offered to show off the piece and the two went to her bedroom, where they found the jewel case open upon the bed, the piece in question gone and the window open.

Since a servant had been stationed in the hall outside the door all evening, it was assumed that the thief somehow managed to scale the side of the building, a feat that engendered nearly as much talk as the burglary itself. Although Georgiana forced her brother Bertrand to accompany her on a tour of the grounds afterward, there was nothing to be seen in the darkness, and all her efforts to question the two women were turned aside. Indeed, the party quickly broke up out of consideration for Lady Culpepper’s terrible loss, with everyone expressing shock at the commission of such a crime in quiet Bath.

Everyone, that is, except Georgiana.

Chapter Two

Thrilled at the first true challenge to her abilities, Georgiana rose early the morning after the incident and seated herself at the rosewood writing desk in the drawing room, where she put to paper every detail she could recall of the evening and the company. Unfortunately, she had been unable to view the scene or question the principles, but she was very thankful to have been present during the actual theft.

The mystery itself was a positively splendid one, not your average crime, but obviously a well thought out and daring perpetration, and Georgiana smiled absently as she made note of that which she deemed important. The time, of course, was of interest. When had Lady Culpepper last been in the room before returning with Mrs. Higgott? And what of the servant outside the room? Had he heard nothing? Was he truly there all night, or had he left his post?

And what of the room itself? Did it open onto any others? Georgiana would dearly love to look for any clues the thief had left behind, including the jewel case itself. From what she could understand from the two women’s ramblings, the container had been left behind, despite the gems that remained inside it.

Georgiana frowned. Why steal just the necklace? Had the thief been pressed for time, or hindered by what he could carry with him? A man who scaled the exterior wall could not be hampered with a bulky parcel, but Georgiana found it difficult to believe that someone had gone to such lengths to gain entry. Perhaps the fellow had tossed up a rope, she thought. Uncertain of the logistics of that sort of thing, she vowed to ask Bertrand. And she fully intended to view the building in the daylight.

If only she could see the room itself! Something about the open jewel box sounded familiar, but, unable to place the memory, Georgiana made a quick note of it and then pulled out another sheet of foolscap upon which to name her suspects. Her hand nearly trembled with the force of her excitement, for here not only was a challenge to her skills, but an opportunity. If she could solve this puzzle and present the culprit’s name to the authorities, she might finally receive the respect she craved.

Resting her chin on a hand, Georgiana smiled dreamily as she imagined the accolades due her, especially if she managed to recover the stolen jewels! More important than praise, however, was the possibility that she could make a name for herself, and she enthusiastically pictured a future filled with investigations as people from all over the country came to consult her, Georgiana Bellewether.

Heaving a sigh of delight at such pleasant fantasies, Georgiana nevertheless turned her attention back to the task at hand, for she must first determine the identity of the man who had taken Lady Culpepper’s necklace. Although the burglar might be someone unknown to her, a member of the criminal community who had lain in wait for his chance, logic argued against it. No common cutpurse would rob a house on a night when it was filled to brimming with guests and servants.

Whoever had done the deed did not waste time ransacking other rooms, but knew just where to go to find his prize. Georgiana abruptly dropped her hand and lifted her chin as the conversation she had overheard behind the plant came to mind. She had known from their whispers that Lord Whalsey and Mr. Cheever were plotting something nefarious, but little did she imagine the two men capable of a crime of such epic proportions!

With a grim expression, Georgiana tried to copy down everything the two had said, including Mr. Cheever’s complaint that he was hampered in his efforts to “get it” by the presence of servants. Oh, it was really all too simple, Georgiana thought, and as visions of acclaim once more rose to mind, she placed Mr. Cheever and the man who hired him first upon her list.

But, as promising as the two men were, Georgiana still intended to consider all possibilities, and so she wondered just who else at the house that night might be responsible. The culprit could be a servant, she thought, though such instances were rare, and who among them during the busy party would have found time to scale the building? She wished that she might question those in Lady Culpepper’s employ in order to obtain all pertinent information.

As to the guests, Georgiana found it difficult to name too many candidates among the genteel inhabitants of Bath. Most she deemed not clever enough to pull off such a scheme, while others were too honest and bland to suddenly take up a life of crime. But as she thought of all those simple faces, Georgiana suddenly remembered the vicar and his vocal contempt for the wealthy. Frowning, she wondered if the good cleric could have managed to steal the necklace. The venom in his words had disturbed her and, without hesitation, she counted him as her second suspect.

Once more, considering everyone she had seen, Georgiana easily dismissed the dowagers, the gouty old men and the young ladies as incapable of entering and escaping through the window. No, the culprit was definitely someone agile, slender but with the strength to climb, graceful undoubtedly, and…dressed all in black?

Georgiana’s eyes narrowed as an image of Ashdowne, dark and elegant, filled her mind. Ashdowne, who seemingly appeared and disappeared at will, certainly looked as if he could do anything, including scale the side of a building, and his strength had been evident in the way he lifted her with ease off his prone body. The memory made Georgiana flush with an unwelcome heat, as did the knowledge that the handsome nobleman had reduced her to a yammering ninny.

Georgiana scowled, angry with herself and at the man who was so carelessly capable of rendering her speechless. He was up to something, and she knew it! He was far too…healthy to need the waters. Of course, his presence in Bath might well be due to a lady, Georgiana realized with an odd surge of disappointment. All too often, gentlemen of the ton dallied with wives, widows and other available females. But somehow Georgiana had expected more from the possessor of those startlingly intelligent eyes.

And as she considered the women who had been in attendance last night, Georgiana was hard-pressed to come up with viable candidates. To her mind, the ladies present did not look worth the effort, but she was not a man, and everyone knew that their thoughts were unpredictable, at best. Georgiana had seen Ashdowne with the widow, but she had gone on to dance with others, while he was nowhere to be seen. As usual. And in the end, it was his unexplained disappearances that convinced Georgiana to add his name to the list of suspects with a flourish.

Although she had no liking for Mr. Nichols or any of her other admirers, in all good conscience, Georgiana could not include them, for none seemed to possess the wherewithal for so daring a burglary. And even should she have misjudged them, according to Bertrand, the young bucks were congregated in the card room during the time of the robbery, engaged in some sort of wagering. She had questioned her brother thoroughly and accounted for those few young men who might have the necessary agility.

Which left very few suspects. Of course, it was possible that the burglar was someone outside the party, abetted by a knowledgeable insider, a prospect that Georgiana found most frustrating. She was simply going to have to obtain the names of all the guests and talk to the servants—and to Lady Culpepper herself.

Putting aside her list of suspects, Georgiana swiftly penned a note to the lady, begging to call upon her as soon as possible concerning a matter of gravest importance. She decided to send a servant round this very morning with the message, for the sooner she gathered her information, the better the chance of retrieving the stolen gems.

Although the theft had been brilliantly executed, Georgiana did not doubt her own abilities, and she envisioned a swift resolution to the mystery. Mr. Cheever’s pinched features rose in her mind only to dangle there uncertainly, for somehow he did not appear capable of such cleverness. Indeed, as much as she tried to fight it, Georgiana felt an unwitting admiration for the culprit. Here, at last, was someone worthy of her own talents. She sighed and sank her chin onto one hand.

It was simply her ill luck that he was a criminal.

After waiting impatiently throughout the morning, Georgiana finally received a response to her missive, and, hurrying off to avoid her sisters, she arrived at Lady Culpepper’s elegant home shortly after noon. There she was shown into a salon, where the hostess was seated upon an elegant wing chair, a luncheon tray on the table beside her.

“Come in, young lady!” the older woman called in a shrill voice, and Georgiana stepped forward into the lavishly appointed room, with its carved white marble chimneypiece and cut-glass chandelier. The furnishings looked much as they had last night, but Lady Culpepper appeared far older in the daylight that streamed in through the tall windows.

Georgiana felt the noblewoman’s assessing gaze upon her as she took a seat. “Thank you for seeing me, my lady,” she began politely, only to be met with a sour expression.

“And well you should be grateful,” Lady Culpepper said. “I have refused all callers today, as befitting my distraught condition. So tell me, what is this matter of grave importance you have to discuss? Do you know anything about my necklace?” Georgiana nodded, and the older woman leaned forward, one bony hand clutching the mahogany edge of the chair. Her eyes glittered shrewdly, and Georgiana realized that Lady Culpepper was no fool.

“Well?” she asked impatiently.

“I have reviewed the incident with the information at my disposal and have narrowed down the suspects to a likely few,” Georgiana answered. At Lady Culpepper’s odd look, she added, “I consider myself most adept at the solving of mysteries and hope to come to a definite conclusion soon. However, I would like to speak with the servants, if I may, and ask you a few questions.”

“Who are you?” Lady Culpepper demanded.

“Georgiana Bellewether, my lady,” she answered, wondering if the woman was forgetful. If so, that might put a different slant on the case, making it more difficult to ascertain the time of the theft.