Read To Catch A Thief (Saved By Desire 2) Online
Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #Historical, #Romance, #Fiction, #Regency, #Victorian, #London Society, #England, #Britain, #19th Century, #Adult, #Forever Love, #Bachelor, #Single Woman, #Hearts Desire, #Mysteries, #Suspense, #Romantic Suspense, #Saved By Desire, #Series, #Star Elite, #Investigation, #Summons, #Fear, #Harrowing Ordeal, #Hertfordshire, #Sleepy Village, #Deceit, #Killer Revealed, #Dangerous, #Deception
To Catch A Thief (Saved By Desire 2)
To Catch A Thief
Saved by Desire Series
Book Two
by
REBECCA KING
©2016 by Rebecca King
The moral right of R L King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any informational storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, either living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Further books in this series will be published shortly.
ONE PENNY SURPRISE (BOOK ONE)
TO CATCH A THIEF (BOOK TWO)
MISTAKEN IDENTITY (BOOK THREE)
A SCANDAL MOST DARING (BOOK FOUR)
HIDING ROSE (BOOK FIVE)
RECKLESS DESIRE (BOOK SIX)
THE ARRANGEMENT (BOOK SEVEN)
HOPE’S SECRET (BOOK EIGHT)
RUNAWAY GROOM (BOOK NINE)
MAY THE BEST ROGUE WIN
(BOOK TEN)
Jeb slammed the kitchen door closed and yanked his cloak off with a bitter snarl of disgust. He ached from head to foot, and was thoroughly fed up. His nightly sojourn into the East End had gained him nothing except for an empty stomach, and an offer from a rather questionable lady of the night who was the last person he would turn to for an amorous tousle. It had been so long since there had been any dabbling in the sins of the flesh that he couldn’t be entirely sure he remembered what to do. The only thing he did know for definite was that he had just wasted another night of his life.
“I have to wonder sometimes why I do this blasted job,” he grunted in frustration.
The warmth of the room immediately enveloped him but he was so cold he didn’t think he would ever thaw out. Quickly tugging his boots off, he hurried over to the fireplace to warm his frozen toes while he contemplated what to eat.
“This is not the life you planned for yourself my friend,” he sighed as he sidled closer to the roaring fire and glared at the nearly empty table. “Not the life at all.”
Back at Briggleberry, cook always made sure there were at least two hams on the table, along with cheeses, bacon, freshly baked bread, jams of at least three different flavours, and plenty of eggs. Here, there was nothing to eat apart from what looked like a dried chunk of bread and some leftover mouldy stuff that at one time, a long time ago, might have been cheese.
The clock on the mantle behind him struck five, but he barely gave it a second glance. Dawn had already started to creep over the horizon: or would have done if it wasn’t for the dreaded smog. The damned stuff dropped over London, and embraced it in a veritable fog of smoke that made taking a deep breath a constant battle, and the ability to see virtually impossible.
“I need a break,” he whispered, despite the fact nobody was there to hear him.
At times like this, he hated having to sit down and not have anything to occupy his mind. It gave him far too much opportunity to think of things he would rather ignore; like the fact that his professional career was progressing in leaps and bounds whereas his personal life was practically non-existent.
Over the last several years he had spent most of his life working for the Star Elite. While it was a job he loved, and had absolutely no intention of quitting just yet, he wished there was – well – something else.
“I wondered when you were going to get back,” Barnaby drawled suddenly from the doorway. Unaware of Jeb’s discontent, Barnaby yawned and ambled over to join his friend before the fire. He eyed the dark shadows beneath Jeb’s eyes with a frown. “You need a break.”
Jeb looked at him and sighed. In all of his four and thirty years, he didn’t think he had ever felt this tired. His entire body ached. He had been awake for so long now that if he fell asleep then he might not wake back up again. Exhaustion beckoned. But in spite of that, he still didn’t want to rest. There was something deep inside him that kept urging him to carry on; just keep going; it would get better in time.
Of course, it never did.
“What are your plans for the day?” he murmured when Barnaby continued to yawn.
Barnaby snorted. “Well, now that Luke has taken Poppy to meet his family, I have to meet with Toby to see what he has found out about Balgravia’s painting.”
“Has anyone found it yet?”
“Not yet,” Barnaby warned.
Balgravia, a wealthy London aristocrat, had vanished several days ago along with an expensive painting from his study. His body had since been found, strangled, but the painting was still missing. Unfortunately, with no idea who had stolen it in the first place, locating it was proving difficult.
Trying to find anything in the vast and chaotic streets of London was a little like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Jeb wondered why there were even bothering. It wasn’t as if the family couldn’t afford the loss. As long as they managed to capture the person, or persons, responsible for Balgravia’s murder then finding the painting was irrelevant – wasn’t it?
“I am going to speak to Toby because he may have heard someone mention something,” Barnaby said.
Jeb nodded in understanding. In the last several weeks they had managed to persuade a rather cheeky pickpocket to provide them with information on stolen items of the kind that had recently been taken from numerous houses of the aristocracy
.
The Star Elite were convinced they were likely to be sold on somewhere within the back streets of London, they just had to find out where. Toby had so far proved to be an invaluable help, but due to the nature of his own activities, trusted very few people. With Luke now visiting family, Barnaby or Jeb had to go to meet with the boy, but Jeb was too cold and exhausted.
Barnaby disappeared into the hallway and returned with a letter. “This arrived for you earlier.”
The caution in his voice made Jeb hesitate for a moment. When he took the letter from him, he studied the writing and knew immediately who it was from. He knew Barnaby did too, which was why he was wary.
“Father is pestering me to find a wife again I don’t doubt,” Jeb sighed in disgust.
This was the last thing he needed to have to deal with right now, but it appeared his father was on the war path again. He was still determined to get Jeb to settle down, preferably to life at the family seat: Briggleberry.
Although Jeb refused to do his father’s bidding out of principal, he secretly had to concede that maybe Algernon had a point. He should get married, and find someone to share something other than work with. Maybe then he could at least eat decent food, and have a beautiful, warm woman to cuddle up to when he did manage to get home.
“I will leave you to it,” Barnaby sighed as he shuffled toward the door. “Just take a break Jeb. Sir Hugo is on his way back from Cornwall. Simon Ambrose is smoothing things over with Balgravia’s widow, and now that Poppy’s father is behind bars, things have gone a little quiet. Josh and Marcus are busy following leads. So, for now, get some rest. I don’t think you have had a break in – how long?”
Jeb squinted at the wall opposite while he tried to think, but then shrugged when he couldn’t remember.
“Will you take a word of advice from me?” Barnaby asked, uncharacteristically solemn. “Rather than write to your father, go and see him. You work too hard. One thing this job has taught me is that it is foolish to take life for granted. One minute you can be going about your business, the next - gone. Look at Samson and Balgravia.”
Jeb nodded.
Joshua Samson had been on his way home from a night out at the gaming tables when he had been set on by a not so friendly associate who had strangled him. Rather than leave him where he fell, Samson’s killer had thrown his body into the river. It wouldn’t ever have been found if it weren’t for Poppy, Luke’s new wife, who had found Samson’s corpse the day she met her husband.
“Every time I go back my father pushes me to leave the Star Elite.” Jeb sighed. He gave Barnaby a frank look. “It is all I know. I don’t know if I can stop.”
“I know,” Barnaby murmured. “But if Luke can make changes, so can you. I don’t mind admitting that I sometimes envy the men who have found wives. I think it would be nice to find something better to do in life. As yet, though, I have never found anybody I find all that interesting to want to stay around that long.”
He smiled ruefully when Jeb nodded in complete understanding. The men had been friends since they had started working for the Star Elite many moons ago, and their friendship had grown by leaps and bounds ever since. It was part of the reason why Jeb didn’t ever want to leave. The camaraderie between all of the men, no matter whether they were married or single and living in different parts of the country, was something that was unique to this elite band of fighting men. Jeb knew he would never find anything like it no matter where he went, or what he did in life.
But was it enough to sacrifice his life for, especially now that some of the men had wives and children to take their time?
“Go home for a few days, but for no longer than two weeks. We need to bring Sayers down, don’t forget.”
He didn’t think Jeb would do as he suggested mainly because Jeb was one of the fighters least likely to leave an investigation when it had started. However, he was growing concerned with just how exhausted his colleague looked. Tiredness in this game could kill. One wrong slip, one yawn at the wrong time, and Jeb could have his throat cut, or a knife in his back, and would never make it home again.
Once he was alone again, Jeb studied the parchment then broke the seal. After the usual enquiries as to his health and so on and so forth, his father did demand he return home. However, the urgency of the note was driven purely by the recent spate of alarming thefts that had happened from houses of the most affluent members of the village. Thefts that, unfortunately, had all the hallmarks of the recent burglaries the vast mansions of London’s aristocracy were being subjected to.
“Barnaby!” Jeb shouted.
He was already on his way to the hallway before Barnaby could get downstairs and thrust the note at his friend before he went to fetch his boots.
Barnaby followed him into the kitchen as he read. “Sounds strikingly familiar,” he remarked with a scowl.
“Doesn’t it just?” Jeb sighed. “I am just trying to remember who is
ton
around those parts. Apart from my father, who has long since turned his back on all of them, there are only three others.”
“Who?” Barnaby’s voice was sharp.
Jeb wrinkled his nose up. “Well, there is Lord Burlington, the Earl of Campdean; Lord Kinton, the Earl of Chislem is about ten miles away, and then there is Viscount Wendlebury, Derek, I think his name is. They are all within about twenty miles of each other.”
“Three of the aristocracy who haven’t been burgled yet,” Barnaby mused. “Do you know if they have houses in London?”
Jeb sighed. “Lord Burlington’s home is over at Cheshire Mews. I think it is that cream house on the corner. Viscount Wendlebury, I really don’t know at all. Daniel Kinton is someone I really believe that you need to see. As I remember, he is an affable chap but a little strange.”
Barnaby’s ears pricked up. “Oh? In what way?”
Jeb coughed uncomfortably. “He has somewhat eclectic tastes, in all things, if you know what I mean?”
He watched Barnaby’s brows lift and knew that he did indeed catch on to his meaning. With his boots on, Jeb paused in the doorway.
“I take it that I am free to go to investigate?”
“Please do,” Barnaby mused, handing Jeb the parchment. “I want you to let me know what items have been taken, how often the thefts have occurred, and while you are there, see what you can unearth about Wendlebury, Burlington, and Kinton. I am not saying they are involved, but this all sounds remarkably similar to what’s going on here. I don’t have a good feeling about this. No, I don’t have a good feeling at all.”
“Me neither,” Jeb sighed.
“When do you plan to leave?” Barnaby asked, once again eyeing the exhaustion evident on his friend’s face.
“No time like the present,” Jeb replied crisply.
It didn’t occur to him to stop to question why he was so determined to leave quickly. His earlier tiredness had swiftly vanished, almost to the point that Jeb felt re-energised and ready to go again.
“Do you not think you should rest first?” Barnaby asked but suspected now that Jeb had scented home nothing was going to stop him from leaving.
“No. From the sound of my father’s letter, the sooner I can get there the better.”
For both the investigation and yourself,
Barnaby mused as he watched his friend tug his cloak on.
Moments later, Jeb ignored his rumbling stomach, said his farewells to Barnaby, and slammed out of the kitchen.
“Time to go home,” he sighed with a hint of relief.
As he rode toward the outskirts of town, he mulled over his reaction to his father’s letter now tucked away in his cloak pocket. His eagerness to go home was something he had never thought he would feel. Was it because he was exhausted, and knew the only place he could relax would be in Framley Meadow? Or was his determination to leave London down to nothing more than his total disgust with cloying London smog that made his work virtually impossible?
His thoughts inevitably turned toward his father. To date, Algernon had pestered, blackmailed, coerced, lectured, worried, and downright ordered Jeb to make Briggleberry his home. It was all in the hope he would learn how to run the family estates, and be able to take over the running of the family business once his father had left this mortal realm. The fact that Jeb had absolutely no interest in what went at Briggleberry, any more than he visited, say, a modiste, didn’t seem to register on his father.
Of late, though, his father’s letters had been more of an enquiring nature rather than demanding. It was as though he had given up and accepted his son had no interested in what went on at home. Jeb had never discussed it with another living soul, but deep inside he had worried why his father had suddenly given up.
Now that he had received the rather strange note about the thefts, Jeb decided it was time to satisfy his curiosity and go home. It wasn’t that he had any intention of ever staying; he just needed to have a rest for a while, enjoy some good food, and find out what was happening. Then he could return to his duties with the Star Elite refreshed, re-energised, and ready for anything.
