The Gentleman Thief

“Please sit down,” Jeffries said to Cheever. His voice, although cordial, held an under

lying insistence that Georgiana admired. She had to restrain herself from clapping and urging him on.

Whalsey, however, did not join in her enthusiasm. He puffed his chest and his cheeks out once more, reminding Georgiana of a bellows. “This is an outrage!” he declared, most emphatically. “Y-you barge into my home, accost me, and now you are attacking my guests. Well, I—I won’t have it! You, sir, may leave the premises at once!”

When Cheever inched toward the door, Whalsey shot him an exasperated glance. “Not you! You!” he clarified, pointing a finger at Jeffries. “Harassing your betters! Why, I’ll have you stripped of your position!”

To his credit, Jeffries did not waver, and Cheever eventually sat on the edge of a faded damask-covered chair, where he proceeded to dart anxious glances toward a small gilt table. The only item on the worn surface was a simple wooden box that was hardly in keeping with the rather shabby elegance of the salon, and Georgiana drew in a sharp breath at the realization.

While Whalsey continued to object to the presence of the visitors in no uncertain terms, Georgiana rose and walked casually toward the table that held so much fascination for Cheever. She was immediately rewarded with a squeak of horror from the man, which alerted his partner. Whalsey whirled toward her and gaped, his face growing red and mottled.

“You! Get away from there, you wretched female!” he said.

Excitement surged through Georgiana as she ignored the warning and stepped closer. Triumph, which had so often teased her, suddenly appeared to be within her grasp at last, for the significance of the box could mean only one thing. The overly confident thieves had hidden the necklace in plain sight, disguising its value in the rough container that normally would not have drawn a second glance.

Moving behind the small piece of furniture, Georgiana gestured toward the box with a flourish. “Mr. Jeffries, I believe that you will find the stolen item in here!” she said, trying to contain the exhilaration that rushed through her. Surely, this was her finest hour! she thought, beaming at her audience.

And then pandemonium erupted.

Cheever shot to his feet, his hands fisted at his sides, but Ashdowne swiftly rose, too, a formidable figure among the shorter men. Whalsey, his blustering at an end, pulled out a handkerchief and began fanning himself as he fell onto a nearby chaise, moaning in distress, while Jeffries stepped toward her.

“I’ll just have a look, my lord,” Jeffries said. No one made a move to stop him as he took up a stance at Georgiana’s side and reached for the lid. It stuck momentarily, but then Jeffries lifted it away to reveal the contents, and Georgiana held her breath only to release it in a hiss of disappointment.

With dismay, she saw at once that no gold necklace lay inside, for instead of the glitter of emeralds, her gaze met the dull sheen of glass. Although she leaned forward, it was soon obvious that the box was empty except for a dark bottle. She blinked, but just as she opened her mouth to admit her shock, Whalsey spoke from his position across the room.

“You cannot hold me accountable!” he said. “I’ve done nothing! Whatever is in there is Cheever’s, for he left that box here yesterday!”

Startled, Georgiana swung her attention toward Cheever, who was gripping the arms of his chair in a rather fierce fashion, as if he could not decide whether to push to his feet or remain where he was. He glanced wildly at Whalsey and then back to the Bow Street Runner, his face pinched into a most desperate expression that puzzled Georgiana.

“I left it here all right, but only because he paid me for it, the vain old bugger! I took the stuff, and the formula, too, but on his orders. It was all for him! What would I need with hair restorative?”

Georgiana finally found her voice. “Hair restorative?” she asked as Jeffries gingerly lifted the bottle from its berth.

“Aye, miss,” Cheever said. “It’s a secret formula, created by a certain Dr. Withipoll here in Bath, and nothing would do but that his lordship must get hold of some. And when the doctor wouldn’t sell, that’s when he called me in. It was all his doing! He forced me to steal it!” Cheever whined, eyeing the Bow Street Runner with canny intent.

“There are nigh on eighty physicians practicing in Bath. Surely one of them could have been induced to help you with your…ah…problem, without resorting to robbery,” Ashdowne said dryly to a sputtering Whalsey.

Having no interest in male baldness or how to cure it, Georgiana broke in upon the conversation. “But what of the jewels?” she asked. Both Whalsey and Cheever looked at her blankly. “Lady Culpepper’s necklace?” she prompted.

Cheever’s small eyes grew wide, and whatever gentlemanly ways he had put on fell away like a mask. “Now, you hold on a minute there, miss. I don’t know a thing about that! I’m strictly smalltime, I swear it! I ain’t no jewel robber!”

“Nor am I!” Whalsey cried from across the room. “I may be a bit short of funds at the moment, but everyone knows I get my money by marrying it, not stealing it. It’s my hair I’m worried about! How will I find a rich widow, if it goes? A man can’t wear a wig all the time! I simply must keep my hair!” he declared with passionate ferocity.

Jeffries held up the bottle, and Georgiana could see that it was filled with some sort of dark liquid. “And you think this here’s going to do the job?” the Bow Street Runner asked.

“Oh, most certainly! It will grow hair on a billiard ball!” Whalsey claimed.

“The professor swears by it!” Cheever put in. “And you should see the head of hair he has on him!”

“A mane that he was no doubt born with,” Georgiana muttered as disappointment swamped her. After all her careful investigation, she had not recovered the missing gems! And the nefarious scheme she had overheard had come to this: two men fighting over a stolen batch of hair restorative.

It was decidedly lowering.

Jeffries cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that whether or not this concoction works is irrelevant, for either way, it’s been stolen, and I’ll be returning it to the rightful owner,” he said firmly. “I’ll have the formula, too, if you please.”

With another loud huff, Whalsey pulled a paper from his coat pocket and thrust it angrily at the Bow Street Runner.

“Is this the only copy?” Jeffries asked.

“Yes!” Whalsey snapped.

“Very good, then. I’ll be in touch with you two regarding any charges that the professor might want to make against you.”

“It was all his doing!” Cheever accused, scowling at Whalsey.

“I did nothing. You’re the one who approached me, you housebreaker!” Whalsey retorted.

The two were still arguing when Georgiana, Ashdowne and Jeffries left the house, and it was not until they stepped outside that silence reigned once more. Georgiana, for one, was too distressed to speak, and the three walked quietly down the steps that fronted the building. So mired in her own dejection was she that at first Georgiana didn’t hear the sound of a low chuckle. But by the time they reached the street, it was clearly audible. Did Ashdowne mock her?

Whirling on him, Georgiana prepared to give him a good set-down, but the look on his face stopped her. The marquis, who always seemed so elegant and assured, was grinning helplessly. “Hair restorative!” he murmured. And then he threw back his head and burst out laughing.

Watching his handsome face relax so fully, Georgiana felt her own tension ease. After all, Ashdowne was not finding humor in her miscalculations, but in the situation in which they had found themselves, which she had to admit was the silliest she had ever encountered.

Before she knew it, Georgiana was laughing, too, and then, to her surprise, Jeffries joined in with a rough growl of amusement, until all three of them were nearly making a spectacle of themselves on the streets of Bath. Her eyes watering in a most unladylike fashion, Georgiana swayed on her feet, but Ashdowne was there to lean on, and she decided that it was a most pleasant experience to share her mirth with a man.

It was only later, after sobering once more and parting with her companions, that Georgiana realized the awful truth. If Whalsey and Cheever were innocent, she was left with only two suspects.

And Ashdowne was one of them.

Chapter Five

Ashdowne stretched out upon the uncomfortable Grecian squab couch in his bedroom and propped his feet on the top of a carved stool. He had let the house, including the ghastly furniture, for the season, though he had only intended to stay a short while. Now he found himself hating the fashionable address in Camden Place. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he had disliked his surroundings, but the pretentious trappings bothered him more than usual. Everything