What a Rogue Desires Page 5

  “Aye.” Only his lower lip moved with the word. She swallowed and edged closer.

  “Please, sir, I—I have some things to sell. They tell me you give fair prices.”

  Still his face didn’t change. “Aye. A fair price for fair goods.”

  “I have that,” she hurried to assure him. “My husband—that is, my late husband…” She shook her head and went to work on the reticule strings, bending her head as if in shame or sorrow. “I have some things of his,” she whispered. “Very fine.”

  “Let’s have a look, then.” He spread his hands on the counter and cocked his head, waiting. Slowly Vivian brought out the pocket watch from the onion man yesterday. Mr. Burddock took it and examined it coolly. “Passable workmanship,” he said, sounding bored.

  Vivian’s blush was real, although not from shame but anger. It was a fine watch, and he knew it. Just let him try to cheat her. “And this.” She drew out the pearl pin.

  Burddock held it up to the light and yawned. “Is the pearl genuine?”

  “Of course!”

  He twisted his lips and put it down on the counter, but didn’t argue with her. Vivian was quite sure it was a fairly valuable piece. “That all?”

  She bit her lip as if in indecision. “Yes. No. I—I don’t know.” Taking care that her fingers trembled, she reached into the reticule again and took out the signet ring. Just its weight guaranteed a good price. It gleamed of riches even in the dusty light of the little shop. “His ring,” she said softly, keeping it in her hand instead of adding to the other items on the counter.

  The man looked at it for a moment, and then finally a flicker of interest showed on his face. He reached for the ring and she let him take it, blinking rapidly. Mr. Burddock turned the ring from side to side, studying it, weighing it in his palm. “Family crest?” he asked with a keen glance.

  “Yes,” she said. “He was the last of his family. And now—not even a son to follow him—” She broke off and bit her lip, looking down.

  Burddock continued to roll the ring between his fingers. “Well, it seems a well-made piece.” He put it down. “A fine piece, in fact. I’d say it’s worth a fair sum.” His attitude had thawed considerably in a matter of seconds. Vivian gave him a cautious smile.

  “Is it? Oh, I cannot tell you how that comforts me, that dear Charles may yet provide for me.”

  “Left you badly off, did he?” Burddock nodded, peering at her face.

  “It is a familiar tale to you, I’m certain,” she said with a sigh. “This is all I have left of him. Oh, sir, you wouldn’t cheat a poor widow, would you?” She assumed an expression she knew made her face look young and hopeful. “You have raised my hopes tremendously.”

  Something like a smile flitted across his face. “Never say Thaddeus Burddock is a cheat, madam. Fair prices for fair pieces, is my creed.” And he named a sum that made Vivian almost gasp aloud, act or no act. It was even more than she’d hoped for. Flynn would have to shut his mouth about Simon’s rashness in taking the ring. With her share of that, plus the funds she’d already saved, she could apprentice Simon to a decent businessman. And with Simon safely settled, she could even think about extricating herself from thieving. An image sprang into her mind, of a small quiet cottage, with flowers and honeysuckle growing wild about it, and a fat cat sunning in the window.

  She forced her imagination into submission and concentrated on the matter at hand. She mustn’t get ahead of herself. “Sir, that would be most acceptable,” she said breathlessly.

  “I thought so.” He put the ring down. “It’s such a sum, though, I haven’t the funds on hand to pay you today. If you come again tomorrow morning, I shall have it.”

  Vivian’s disappointment was tempered by anticipation of the lovely, high price he would pay. “I believe I can manage it,” she said. “And the other two pieces?”

  With newly attentive eyes, he examined the pin and the watch again. “Perhaps these are a bit finer than I first thought,” he said. “Shall we make a deal for all three pieces? To be purchased tomorrow?”

  Vivian agreed, especially when he named a sum within reason for the other two pieces. She slipped all three items into her reticule. “Until the morrow, then, Mr. Burddock.”

  “The morrow,” he said. “I shall expect you.”

  She ducked her head. “I will. Early tomorrow. Thank you, Mr. Burddock.”

  “Thank you, madam.” He nodded, and Vivian left. She walked along as sedately as she could, clasping her shaking hands together in relief. She’d feared it would be a terrible task, selling that ring. Of course it was valuable, and a shop on the edge of St. Giles likely took in items of that kind every day, with no questions asked. Still, after she’d feared having to find someone to melt it and sell it as just a lump of gold…Even though it would mean another early morning trip into the city, she hurried through the streets all but wiggling with excitement.

  The note arrived just before dinner. After a long and torturous day, David had finally succumbed to the headache that had never completely faded after his encounter with the highwaymen the previous day. He had accomplished his goals for the day, and felt rather proud of himself for doing so, but now his skull seemed to be squeezing his brain to the point of strangulation. He was lying on the sofa in his small drawing room, with a cushion over his face, when the bell rang. After a few moments it rang again, and then once more. David uncovered his face. “Bannet!”

  At last shuffling footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened, then closed. The servant tapped at the drawing room door. “A message for you, sir.”

  David grunted, but the bell had disturbed his rest already. He levered himself into a sitting position, closing his eyes against the renewed dizziness the action caused, and tore open the note Bannet held out to him. David gazed blearily at it for a moment before realizing what it was. The message inside lifted his spirits greatly. Come early tomorrow to meet your thief.–Burddock

  “Excellent,” he breathed to himself. At last, his shady past had come in handy. Immediately upon his return to London in a hired carriage, David had taken the time to personally visit each and every fence and pawnbroker he knew in London. Thanks to his highly varied gambling history, David knew quite a few fences and pawnbrokers, and all of them had been delighted to do business with him again. But instead of his silver or his pocket watch, this time he had offered them a reward: twenty pounds to anyone who recovered his signet ring, and double if they helped him capture the thief. Thaddeus Burddock, who had once extended David a loan against his best hunter, had had a visit from the highwayman, it seemed.

  “Bless you, Burddock,” he muttered. He lay back on the sofa and frowned in thought. It was best, perhaps, not to summon the Runners at once. Not because David feared they would object to his plan, but because they would be noticeable to a practiced thief. David didn’t want to risk giving himself away and letting the thief escape; oh, no. David did not take kindly to being knocked senseless. Without thinking, he flexed the fingers of his sore hand, imagining the pleasure of driving his fist into the cowardly criminal’s gut.

  These thieves weren’t entirely stupid, given their efforts to unload their stolen booty as soon as possible. Within a day reward notices could be posted, and robbery victims could hire thief-takers to track down their property. David doubted any had done so yet, for the simple reason that they could only have arrived in London today. Had the thieves’ plan gone off successfully, the stolen goods would have already been sold, and any chance of capturing the thieves would be greatly reduced. David knew it had been a good idea to see to the pawnbrokers first, even though he’d had to postpone a meeting with Marcus’s banker to do it. The banker could wait. David meant to catch those thieves, and smile at the shock on their faces when he did it. And then he would hand them over to Bow Street and applaud at their hanging.

  Smiling with grim anticipation, he rang for dinner, his headache miraculously improved.

  Chapter Four

 
The next morning David was at the pawnbroker’s shop before it opened. Burddock, still in his nightcap, let him in and showed him into a small office at the rear of the shop. He offered tea, which David refused, and then went back upstairs to his lodgings. By the time he waddled back down the stairs and unlocked the front door, David had already explored every inch of the cluttered shop. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

  He settled himself in the back room, but found it difficult to be patient. David shifted his weight and sighed. He’d been here an hour already, but it felt like an eternity. Burddock had assured him the thief would be returning early, but that was all. David was quite tired of waiting in the cramped, dingy back room of Burddock’s shop, which smelled faintly of meat pies and sour ale. He peered through the threadbare curtain again, observed Burddock’s wide backside reposing as indolently as ever on his stool, and cleared his throat.

  “Patience,” said Burddock without turning around.

  “I’ve had patience,” said David with an edge. “Have you anything else to suggest?”

  Burddock glanced over his shoulder. “Have a seat, m’lord. Thieves ain’t the most punctual sort.”

  Fair enough. David dusted off the end of the dingy bench and gingerly sat. He resisted the urge to drum his fingers. He couldn’t afford to give in to his urge to go pace the streets until he found the thief and thrashed him. Tracking a criminal into the rookeries was madness, and David knew it; odds were, his throat would be in more jeopardy than the thief’s. He had to wait, at least for a while, and see if this plan worked.

  But sitting and waiting were almost impossible. The walls of the tiny room seemed to close in on him. The smells seemed to grow stronger and stronger until the air was too thick to breathe. He jumped up and peeked through the curtain again. The shop was still empty. “I’ll wait outside,” he said. “When he comes in, make certain you get the ring, then show him out. I’ll watch for it.”

  “As you wish, sir,” said Burddock, who seemed unconcerned about anything but keeping his ample body stationary. David set his mouth impatiently, then let himself out the back door into an alley. He strolled around to the front of the shop and across the street to where his carriage waited. His eyes swept the crowded street, but saw nothing exceptional. He spoke to his driver, who gave a discreet nod and sat back to wait, subtly shifting his position. Still unhurried, David bought a hot bun from a street vendor and leaned against a lamppost to eat it, keeping Burddock’s shop in sight.

  He waited a while. Several people entered, and all left alone. He finished his bun and took his time wiping his fingers on his handkerchief. Where the devil was that thief, he thought in aggravation. If Burddock had told him a tale, he would…

  David left that thought unfinished. The door of the shop had opened again, and Thaddeus Burddock himself was holding it open for the thief who had just sold him David’s signet ring.

  It was a woman. Not just any woman, he realized, his mouth dropping open in shock, but the pretty little widow from the stagecoach. Mrs. Gray, he remembered, the one with the face of an angel.

  David snapped his sagging jaw shut. Not an innocent victim after all. He’d stood up for her and gotten knocked unconscious for it, never dreaming she would turn out to be in league with the thief who hit him. She’d played him for a fool—but would not do so again.

  He raised his hand and adjusted his hat, the signal to his driver, who nodded once in response. Taking his time, but never letting her out of his sight, David drifted into the stream of passersby. It wasn’t hard to overtake her; his stride must be half as long again as hers. Hard to believe such a dainty little woman was a hardened criminal, but David knew looks never did tell true. She paused at the corner, waiting for a produce cart to rumble past, and he made his move.

  “There you are,” he said, sweeping her into the curve of his arm and taking a tight grip on her elbow. “I thought I’d never find you.”

  Shocked blue eyes flew to his. “S-sir,” she stuttered, then gasped as she looked at him. “Release me, please,” she continued, masking her recognition well, but not well enough. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else, I fear.”

  “I fear much the same thing, but let’s sort it out properly, shall we?” His carriage drew up, and David pulled open the door with one hand and shoved her inside with the other. She braced her arms against the doorframe, trying to resist, but David made short work of that by stepping onto the step, wrapping one arm around her, and bodily boosting her into the carriage as if she were a large sack of wheat. The carriage was off even before he pulled the door shut behind him.

  His quarry had tumbled to the floor in a heap of shabby gray skirts, and was struggling to right herself. David watched in dark amusement as she scrambled to her feet, crouching a little in the carriage. She was breathing hard, and her eyes were like saucers. She stared at him for a moment, then lunged for the door. He put his boot on the opposite seat, extending his leg across the door. She drew back as if singed, huddling in the corner farthest from him.

  “Mrs. Gray, I believe,” he said easily. She was rattled, and he wanted to rattle her more. “My memory’s not terribly good for names, but being robbed and beaten about the head does tend to impress things even on my mind.”

  “Oh,” she said in an odd, choking voice. “Oh, yes—now I remember you. From the Bromley stage.”

  He tilted his head. “Only now? I would swear you remembered a few moments ago.”

  She licked her lips. She had such a perfect mouth, he thought. What lies would come out of it next? “I—I wasn’t certain. You took me very much by surprise, sir. I certainly never expected to be accosted on the street by someone with whom I’m hardly acquainted.” There was just a trace of stinging censure in her words, which David found highly entertaining. She was a very good liar, it seemed.

  But unfortunately for her, so was he, and one liar could always sniff out another liar. He leaned forward, watching her draw back and widen her eyes in alarm. “Ah, but we’ve a much closer bond than that, haven’t we?” She blinked, an uncomprehending angel. “Since it was my ring you were trying to sell Burddock,” he clarified.

  If possible, her eyes got even bigger. “Oh, no!” she gasped. “No! Your ring? Why, I’ve no idea what you’re talking of! I’m just a poor widow, sir—I have no other means of support than to sell some of my late husband’s things—”

  “A tragic tale,” he agreed. “If only it were true. Stealing is a crime. Did you know they hang thieves?” She didn’t move a muscle, her eyes fixed on him. The carriage jerked to a halt. “Ah, excellent. We’ve arrived. Care to tell me the truth? Last chance,” he added with a dangerous smile.

  “The truth? But I’ve told you…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes darting to the window. As directed, the driver had gone around to the alley behind Burddock’s shop. The shopkeeper was waiting for them.

  Without comment, David pushed open the door, keeping his leg across the opening. Burddock waddled closer, peered into the carriage, and said, “Aye, that’s the one. Sold me this.” He produced a pearl stickpin and a watch ornamented with tiny rubies. David frowned.

  “Where’s the ring?”

  Burddock lifted one shoulder. “She didn’t bring it today.”

  “Oh, sir!” cried the widow pleadingly. “Say you aren’t in league with him! This villain snatched me off the streets and won’t let me go! Please help me!”

  Burddock gazed at her with his opaque black eyes, then turned back to David. “I bought ’em both, as you asked,” he said.

  David took them, holding his pin up to the light. “Good work. Your compensation will be sent over directly.”

  Burddock smirked. “Very good. A pleasure serving you, sir.”

  “But the ring?” David prompted. Burddock hesitated.

  “She didn’t have it. At least she said she didn’t.” David shot him a dark glance, and Burddock backed up a step, spreading his hands as if to plead helplessness. “What was I to do? I expect you
can handle it from here better than I could.”

  David turned back to his thief, the lovely, white-faced widow opposite him. “Yes, I believe I can,” he said grimly. He thumped a fist on the roof. “Drive on.”

  Her gaze veered from the jewels in his hand to his face. “Release me,” she said, her voice a thin thread of sound. “Please, sir, I beg you…”

  “Yes, I expect you do.” He held the watch up to the light. “This was from the Bromley stage robbery, isn’t it? The fat man who smelled of onions, I believe. What was his name?” David turned the watch from side to side, pretending to study it but watching her from the corner of his eye. She was tensed like a cat waiting to spring, her hands curled into the cushions. “No matter,” he said, putting it in his pocket. “I can send word to the constable. He’ll have the man’s direction.”

  His companion said nothing, her unblinking gaze fixed on him.

  “I expect you’re in it with them,” he went on, as casually as one might discuss the weather. “There’s really no other explanation for how you came into possession of items stolen from passengers on the coach. Fortunately for you, I don’t particularly care. All I want is my ring. And you might as well give back my pocket watch, since I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to track you down. But once you return those things, you’ll be free.”

  “I don’t have them,” she protested.

  He smiled gently. “You’ll have to get them. Send word to your associates.”

  “But I can’t!”

  David sighed, still smiling. This was really quite entertaining. “Then you’ll just be my guest until you can.”

  She jerked, yet more color fading from her face. “What?”

  He leaned forward. “My guest,” he repeated. “I don’t appreciate being robbed, my dear, let alone coshed on the head and left for dead. It was quite a fit of nerves, was it, that you had after that. I heard all about it.”