Charlotte turned her head and looked at the handsome stranger, for he was handsome in a dark, brooding, dangerous way. She smiled, slightly, so the constable wouldn’t see. “He is notjoking.”
The man buried his hand in his back pocket. “Shestole this stuff. Not me. I took them from her as evidence.”
“All right,” grumbled the constable, seeing the two watches. “I have seen enough.” He put his hands around the stranger’s wrists and pulled him forward. “You are coming with me.”
“What?” the man gaped. “You believe her?”
“I will be the one asking questions from now on,” said the constable, pulling him away.
The stranger let himself be tugged. He was bigger and taller than the constable, but he didn’t resist. Instead, he turned one last time to pin Charlotte with a glare that promised retribution.
She looked away first, feeling chilled to the bone. Who was he? Though he looked like he could very well be an outlaw, she didn’t think he was. He seemed simpleminded. Pity.
Preston would never believe what happened. That ruby ring would have made him proud of her. After all, she had to fall into a man’s arms to get it. She hadlost her balanceand dragged herself down her victim’s arm, taking his ring with her. There was a flair to it, of course. Something Miss Amanda Beasley, Preston’s latest apprentice hadn’t learned yet. Charlotte doubted she ever would.
Preston Bristol III, Viscount of Sutton, was Charlotte’s mentor when it came to lifting and all things rebellious and defiant. Preston began his defiance by fighting the Whigs, the political faction in the majority since George of Hanover became king. Most were Protestant, though Preston didn’t care about religion. He was a Tory—the other side of the faction, in favor of Catholic Stuart kings—in name only. He needed someone to hate and the powerful, dominating Whigs were perfect.
Charlotte didn’t care who Preston hated. It was who he loved that drove her. Though, her drive was wearing thin of late.
He’d found her waiting outside her father’s courthouse when she was just eleven. She’d worn her finest dress and ribbons in her hair. And she thought no one saw her when she lifted a small, silver box of powder from an old man in robes.
But Preston had seen her. He had been just a few years older than she and impressed with her skill. He met her at the courthouse every second and third day of the week from then on. They became quick, close friends. Quick,secretfriends. Her father hadn’t known how close until her name began to circulate in the courts. Petty crimes for which her father called in favors to other judges to sweep away.
She and Preston had never been intimate, but she’d fallen in love with him and the life he promised her when she was fourteen and never looked back. Not even when Lord Benjamin Adere asked for her in marriage last year and her father agreed without speaking to her about it.
Sadly for her betrothed, but fortunate for her, he died three months before their marriage. Dr. Lewis had said it was old age.
Since then, she had refused a dozen offers from noblemen with various titles. She wanted to marry the man who knew her better than anyone else. Preston. It wasn’t always easy to convince her father to trust her to her own freedom. Though he always had before. When she was a child and it was most dangerous for her, when her mother had chosen the attentions of other men over her daughter.
She ground her teeth as she neared her four-wheel carriage and her driver. She hated thinking of her parents and her lonely childhood. These thoughts served no purpose other than to slip their icy tendrils around her heart make her angry. Make her hate.
“Take me home, Henry,” she said, barely looking up at him in his seat where he waited for her. No need to let him see her tears. She cursed them as she gave them one more swipe with her gloved fingers.
“Aye, my lady.” He waited until she opened the hinged door and stepped inside. After she knocked on the panel in front of her, he tapped the horses on the flanks and made a sound with his mouth.
The carriage moved forward with a slight, sudden dip behind her. She waited to see if Henry stopped to see to the wheels. When the carriage continued on, she relaxed and pulled the pins from her hat that was hitting the roof of the carriage.
She leaned back against the cushioned bench and closed her eyes. She wished the ride home was longer. One of them might be there. Her parents. At home. Marriage to some dull noble was almost a temptation to be free of her parents. She’d actually let herself be promised to Lord Benjamin Adere to get away from them and stop living her days in anger. In the end, though, her betrothed had died. She couldn’t bring herself to do it again unless it was to Preston. But he hadn’t asked. Half the men who offered for her were old and fat, with red noses from too much drinking. The other half were young, pampered, high-wigged dullards who didn’t care for conversation with her. Too busy were they singing accolades to her to learn anything substantial about her. She had no patience for any of them anymore.
What did the stranger think of her? He hadn’t fallen at her feet when she smiled at him. What did he think she took from him? When the constable carted him off, her captor looked at her with determination sparking his gaze. Determination to make her pay.
Who was he? Why were his clothes and his speech so different than hers and everyone else’s?
She must admit, she liked both. His clothes fit well and had drawn her eyes to parts of his body that made her blush. His derriere to name one. His trousers were fastened around his waist with a button and a strange silver clasp at the top of tiny silver teeth. She didn’t think about the front and the way it had flattered the swell between his legs. His speech was slow, low, and sensual. The more she thought of him, the more she couldn’t stop thinking of him.
Well, he was the constable’s problem now. She smiled and patted her drooping curls. Standing before the justice of the peace would serve him well. Just as long as it wasn’t her standing there.
She’d come all the way to Beddington, along the border of Croydon, where she lived, and Sutton, just in case she got caught. Today’s stranger would likely be taken to the Sutton justice of the peace.
She decided she’d stop home for a few things and then ride her horse to Hayward House in Sutton. Preston was sure to be there. She wondered if Amanda Beasley would be there.
She had no right to say a word. Preston wasn’t hers. Still, she didn’t like it.
The carriage stopped. She plucked her hat off the bench and pushed opened the door. She stepped out into the sun, carrying her hat in her hand. It was good for riding and keeping her hair out of her eyes.
She walked to the house and thanked Old John when he opened the door for her.
“Are they at home?” she asked her family’s long-time butler.
