Touch of a Thief (28 page)

“Oh
, Ashford, I’m ever so glad to see you, dear boy,” the Dowager Countess of Meade said, walking across her parlor toward him with her hand outstretched. She was so obviously confused by his middle of the night arrival, she hadn’t bothered to dress, coming to meet him in her nightshift and robe de chambre. Her iron-gray hair streamed in a long plait down her back. “This has been a most peculiar night, most peculiar indeed.”

“Is Viola here?” He took her hand between both of his instead of making the requisite obeisance over it.

“There you see. No pleasantries, no inquiries after my health. You’re not being the least polite and I find that peculiar, too.” She patted his shoulder and settled onto the threadbare settee. She waved absently, indicating he should sit. “No, Viola’s not here, but she was. Shall I ring for tea?”

“No, thank you. Where is she now?”

“Oh, I haven’t the foggiest,” Lady Meade said. “That girl vexes me sore. She came home in the middle of the night. She left me a stocking full of gemstones, with no explanation of how she came by them, and then she went. Uncut gemstones! Now I ask you, what am I to think? What am I to
do
with them?”

The dowager countess was really quite helpless in practical matters. The older woman’s plaintive tone made Quinn realize what a heavy burden Viola had shouldered since her father’s death. “She got the gems from me.”

“Oh. Well. That’s fine then, isn’t it?” She sighed with relief. “One doesn’t want to think badly of anyone, but honestly, what would you think in my position?”

“I believe you should think your daughter loves you and was trying to provide for your welfare, madam,” Quinn said testily. “Now please, I need you to remember. What exactly did Viola say when she left?”

“Well, I was so flustered by all those jewels, I’m not sure I was attending properly. And why are you asking me? She’s your wife.” Lady Meade turned her head and scrutinized him with one eye half closed. “Did the two of you have a lover’s spat? What did she say before she left your home?”

Quinn leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “I suppose I wasn’t attending either.”

He had no idea what had sent her scurrying off. The evening’s events scrolled past his mind’s eye. The last time he’d heard anything from her, he was fighting with Willie and he’d ordered her to stay back. Then Fenimore and the peelers had burst in and arrested her fence, thinking he was the Mayfair Jewel Thief.

Could that have been it? Was she afraid Willie would regain consciousness and expose her for a thief?

“Did she take anything with her?” Quinn asked.

“I should say so! She took all my pin money,” Lady Meade said indignantly. “But I suppose the jewels are worth a bit more than that.”

“A good deal more, I should think.”

“Oh! And she took one of yesterday’s loaves of bread.”

“I need something on my stomach if I’m to be a pleasant sailing companion, bread for choice.”
Viola’s words when she’d boarded the
Minstrel’s Lady
rose up to taunt him. She was preparing to take ship.

“Oh, Lord, she could be headed anywhere.” Quinn bolted for the door without so much as a fare-thee-well to Lady Meade. He’d apologize later if he must. If he missed Viola on the London wharves, he’d never find her unless she wished to be found.

Dawn was breaking when Viola reached the docks at Wapping, but men were already at work, loading and unloading the vessels riding at anchor. The fragrant aromas of tobacco leaves and coffee beans mingled with tar and the stench of hides and pungent rum fumes. Chains attached to the unloading cranes rattled and workers grunted a boisterous and offcolor sea shanty as they hauled on heavy ropes. A forest of masts dipped and swayed with the swells of the Thames and a steamer preparing to depart belched black clouds of smoke.

Viola couldn’t afford passage on the steamer, not even if she was willing to travel steerage. She pressed on toward the smaller sailing vessels, looking for something like the
Minstrel’s Lady
, that might offer passenger accommodations for less. Her meager cash would have to stretch into the foreseeable future, at least until she lighted somewhere and figured out what to do with herself.

She could continue with thievery, she supposed, but it made her stomach lurch to think of it. Having a near brush with arrest was a sobering experience. For the first time, she felt the full weight of the consequences of her actions and couldn’t bear the thought of her mother and sister, not to mention little Portia, being tainted with her shame.

She’d find work. Honest work. She might serve as a governess or a tutor or even a shop girl with a clear conscience. But she had to quit England before the peelers discovered they’d arrested the wrong person and came looking for her.

And she had to put as much distance between her and Quinn as possible.

Her chest ached at the thought of him. A lump of caring rose in her throat. He’d betrayed her, but she still loved him. Why didn’t her heart have a tap she could shut off?

She switched her single valise to her other hand as she threaded her way through the crowd of milling people. “At least Quinn can’t say I’m not traveling light this time,” she murmured.

“What if he’s not happy about you traveling at all?” came a masculine rumble behind her.

She turned around to find Quinn dogging her steps. He smiled at her.

Damn the man, he had the audacity to smile.

“What’s it to be, Quinn? A Judas kiss?” Her gaze darted about, looking for the authorities he must be dragging in his wake. “Oh, no. How silly of me. You prefer to shag those you mean to betray.”

His brows shot up at her casual obscenity. “Betray? What are you talking about?”

“You told Mr. Fenimore you were working with the Mayfair Jewel Thief. Fortunately for me, he assumed Willie was your accomplice.” She turned back around and started walking away with a determined stride. He fell into step beside her. “However, Willie will promptly denounce me, so Fenimore probably knows and is on his way to take me into custody.”

“No one is after you, Viola. Who’d believe anything Willie says? I’m the only one daft enough to want custody of you,” Quinn said, “and I’d never turn you over to the authorities. Besides, Fenimore is dead.”

She stopped and looked askance at him.

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re thinking. It was the diamond. Just like de Foix.” Quinn shrugged. “But Sanjay has his kingdom back and the Blood of the Tiger will be returning to the temple of Shiva.”

“Oh.” She started walking again. “Congratulations. You accomplished your goal.”

“I did a good deal more than that.” He reached over and took her valise from her, still keeping step with her.

“Oh?”

He stopped her with a hand to her forearm. “I fell in love.”

“Oh!”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on her palm. “I love you, Viola. If you’re still intent on running away, I’ll run with you, but I hope you’ll stay here with me.”

Her heart leaped at that, but she knew he’d never intended on staying in England. “You’re not going back to India?” It had been his first thought when he received news of the uprising.

His brows drew together slightly. “No. My father’s ill. From what I’ve heard, it’s probably mortal. And that means I’m needed at home.”

Viola glanced up at him, sensing tension in the set of his shoulders. “But you want to go back to India, don’t you?”

“I’ll always love that land, but once I take my seat in the House of Lords, I’ll be in a position to do more good for England and Sanjay’s country here than I would as a line officer there.” He pressed her hand to his chest. “I’m heir to a title I wasn’t born to, that shouldn’t be mine. I’m drawn to a land halfway around the world, but I’ve been exiled from it. I’ve never quite known where I belong.” He palmed her cheek. “Until now.”

He bent and kissed her, right on Wapping Dock, in front of God and everybody. A trio of sailors walking by broke into loud huzzahs.

“You are my home, Viola. I belong with you. Marry me.”

“Oh, Quinn.” She wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust, but she’d had to fend for herself for so long, it was hard to put so much hope in another soul.

“Don’t you love me?”

“Of course, I do.” If she loved him any more, her living heart would leap out of her chest.

“Don’t you believe I love you?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“You can hear what a jewel has to say, but you can’t sense the love I bear for you?”

He pressed his forehead to hers and suddenly she felt it, a Sending more intense than from any gem she’d ever touched. Quinn’s love washed over her, a warm sea, buoying her up on its waves, fierce, then gentle. She could trust her heart, her life to this man.

“I feel it,” she admitted. “And I love you too.”

“Then say yes.” One corner of his mouth curved up. “You’ve already stolen my heart. You may as well take the rest of me.”

“When you put it like that”—she stood on tiptoe to nip his bottom lip—“what self-respecting thief could resist?”