Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (36 page)

'At first I was embarrassed. I'd let The Cat get away.'

'And later?' Jack prompted.

'Let it suffice to say that, later, catching The Cat held little novelty for me.' Brandon took a swallow of brandy.

'That must be how she gets away with it.' Jack smiled

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umphantly, gloating a bit at his friend's discomfort. 'Men don't want to

her in. If she's caught, she simply cajoles them into compliance just as she's done with you.'

'She is not a trollop!' Brandon protested, although he had nothing to base that claim on and plenty of evidence to the contrary. Jack's comment had done its work.

'I've yet to meet virgins who tie men to beds. Good lord, Brandon, do you think you're the only man she's tried this on?'

Jack pressed, then softened his tone. 'You're making no sense.

You say you want me to help you catch The Cat. Now you're telling me the opposite. Which is it? Do you want to catch her or not?'

Brandon said nothing. Jack's eyes glinted with knowledge.

'Ah, so that's how it is. You want to catch her for yourself.

Why? Jealousy? Can't stand the thought of another man under The

thrall?'

'I am not under her spell,' Brandon argued, incensed by the implication that a thief could buy his loyalty with her charms.

The claim to jealousy rankled. Was Jack right?

'Then how do you explain this urge to protect her?' Jack shook his head. 'You should know already you can't tame a wild thing. You can't tame The Cat, Brandon.'

Brandon looked down into the remains of his glass, suddenly inundated with vivid memories of his last meeting with The Cat. 'I suppose you're right, Jack. Still, she'd be better off in a cage of my making than a cage of society's making. If the investors catch her, it's off to prison for certain.

If what you believe is true and she's guilty of robberies elsewhere, no judge can overlook three years of indiscretions.' He recalled her comment Christmas Day that there was no sense in stopping the robberies because of her past.

'So it's a race and you believe you have the inside track because you think The Cat is Eleanor Habersham the spinster.'

Jack began sorting through the pieces of the puzzle aloud. 'You

Pickpocket Countess

believe this because of a slip in a conversation you had with Eleanor at a card party?'

Brandon stood up and began to pace. 'For other reasons too.

The spinster is a disguise, I'm sure of it. Well, I was sure of it until I blundered a few nights ago at the card party. I wrote you about it in my note.'

Jack nodded at the reminder. 'Your account was deuced When do I get to meet this paragon?'

'Tonight, at the New Year's party, but, Jack, don' t alert her to our suspicions. If she bolts, we're back to nothing.'

The New Year's celebration was in full swing around her as Nora sat unobtrusively with a few ladies of Eleanor's acquaintance. The display of wealth tonight was more than lavish. It was garish, almost as

as Eleanor's dress with its large

red rose print against a cream background. The material might have done well for curtains, but definitely not for a dress. As Nora intended, the large pattern distracted the viewer from further scrutiny.

The women with her tittered and fanned themselves, exclaiming over the gowns and jewels of the investors' wives. One of them raised her voice over the others and gestured to the doorway of the ballroom. 'Oh, my, the Earl of Stockport has come after all and he's brought a friend. I heard talk that his friend's a Viscount. They had lunch at the Cart and Bull this afternoon.'

Nora diverted her attention from the conversation. Stockport's eyes swept the room, giving her the distinct feeling of being hunted. He was

for her. For once the guise of Eleanor offered no protection. He had reason to mistrust Eleanor as much as The Cat after their exchange at the card party.

Damn him for

so handsome. She took in his dark

evening attire. His toilet was flawless, not a hair out of place, or a hair visible on his clean-shaven jaw.

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Her cheeks burned at the memory of him a few nights ago, less than perfect, but no less delectable in his state of undress, stubble staining his jaw. It would be something of a trial for Eleanor Habersham to remain aloof, but nothing else would do. The last meeting between them demanded no less.

Eleanor should still be upset over his treatment of her on the verandah. Of course, there was always the possibility that Stockport would not bother to seek out a lowly spinster.

But this wasn't London and the distinctions of class were more easily blurred. Within minutes of greeting his hostess, Stockport began the long walk to the cluster of chairs where she sat. It would take some time. Everyone was interested in making Stockport's acquaintance. It wasn't often an Earl mixed with such a bourgeois grouping of people. The opportunity was not to be missed.

If she was so inclined, Nora could remove herself from her group, but Stockport would find her wherever she went. There was no sense in delaying it. She reasoned it was far better to confront him with a group of others around instead of an

encounter where he could get her alone and press his suspicions.

'Ladies, may I present to you the Earl of Stockport and the Viscount Wainsbridge.' The hostess made the introductions.

The dreaded moment was upon her. Nora met it head on. She was putting too many constructions on the encounter. Stockport would attribute any awkward behaviour on her part to their encounter at the card party.

The interaction proceeded quite harmlessly until Nora realised it wasn't Stockport who posed the threat. It was his dandified friend, Viscount Wainsbridge. There was an aura of oddness about the gentleman. His gaze was too penetrating when he looked at her. The hardness in his eyes belied his easy manners. His clothes were overly foppish for a man of his broad-shouldered physique.

Well, it took one to

one. Nora recognized the look of a